Skyrim: Dragonborn Returns
4E 218, 9th of Morning Star
Skyrim/Cyrodiil Border
Torval had not been asleep for even a moment before he felt himself being ripped from his tent and dragged away. Through his adrenaline filled gaze, he could tell that it was still night but the sky was obscured by the tall trees that resided around the south of Skyrim. It was early in the year and the winter's snowfall had yet to thaw.
He had no idea who had a hold of him, only that they were very strong. On their apparel, they had no identifying markings and he could not make out features through the darkness. Soon, they reached another camp nestled in the hills. Torval made the guess that they were beyond the border of Skyrim and had entered Cyrodiil, home of the Imperials.
Torval was brought into a large ornate tent and was thrown to the ground at the feet of a tall man standing beside a wooden table with a map of Tamriel rolled across it. He now had a chance and the proper lighting to see who his abductors were. Their armor seemed Imperial in manufacturing but had no sigils or markings on the breastplate or shoulder guards.
The tall man crouched in front of Torval and held his head up with his hand. He gazed down at him condescendingly.
"Look at this." the man said under his breath while taking in Torval's features. "This is what becomes of savages with no one to maintain order."
He was referring to Torval's Nordic features. His long blond hair was bound into several larger dreads and his long beard was braided.
"When the Empire was in control, these were banned." he said, grabbed a handful of Torval's hair. "This chaos is why we must return to order."
Another soldier entered the tent. "General, the reinforcements have arrived." he said before turning on his heels and walking out.
General Bayleon Charteris walked out into the brisk mountain air and smiled as three battalions of troops amassed in the valley below. Three riders were approaching. They rode right up to the tents and dismounted swiftly. They gave Bayleon an Imperial salute and removed their helmets.
The first man held out his hand for an embrace and Bayleon acknowledged it. "The Empire has finally seen the need to retake Skyrim. The Stormcloaks are all but disbanded and from what our spies tell, turmoil is on the brink of eruption from within." "What of the Stormcloak leaders? It was their cunning that ensured our defeat 17 years ago." Bayleon asked.
Legate Evodius nodded thoughtfully. "The Usurper Ulfric's body has aged poorly and he is no longer fit for command. Galmar Stone-Fist still leads the majority of their army but the wounds he sustained in the Siege of Solitude have left him physically unable."
"And the Third?"
Legate Evodius was about to speak but was cut off by one of Evodius' companions who had been silent up until that point.
"He has retreated into seclusion. He will not be a problem, I assure you."
Bayleon nodded. "I will take your word for it, Commander Hadvar."
Hadvar smiled. He hoped with all his being that the Third wouldn't interfere. Despite Hadvar's allegiance to the Empire and the Third allying himself with the Stormcloaks, they still escaped Helgen together. It was the will of the Eight that they never met on the battlefield.
/
4E 218, 12th of Morning's Star
Whiterun, Province of Skyrim
Jarl Frothar sat in the chair that he had inherited from his father, Balgruuf the Greater. He had definitely earned that title, Balgruuf had won many battles and aided Ulfric in the liberation of Skyrim. Sadly, he had taken ill a decade prior and passed rather hastily. After Balgruuf's death, his personal mage; Farengar, departed Whiterun and started a self-proclaimed pilgrimage south to Valenwood. Irileth and Frothar's uncle Hrognar were the only remaining members of his father's inner circle.
Frothar's sister Dagny had also moved on as well since the Civil War, she had married the son of a high ranking Stormcloak and moved to their estate south of Riverwood in the forests overlooking the lake. Nelkir; however, remained at his half-brother's side as an advisor. While they did not get along in their youths, the two had grown quite close.
Today, a scout from Whiterun's garrison in Riverwood stood before him in Dragonsreach. The lad was rather short to be a scout, maybe five feet and nine inches. His hair was long but well kept and a deep auburn color, a strand of hair on his temple was braided and promenant. A traditional look of Nords from eastern Skyrim. His face had a weak attempt at facial hair, showing his age to be under twenty years but at least above fifteen.
He was out of breath and his hands were shaking. Similar to the day that the Dragonborn came storming into Dragonsreach with news of the destruction of Helgen and the imminent danger that was presented upon Riverwood.
"Care to repeat what you told me, boy?" said Commander Sinmir.
Commander Sinmir had been captain of Whiterun's guard for decades, even before Frothar was born. If there was anyone that garnered respect from the jarl, it was him.
The scout gathered his thoughts and spoke. "I was making a routine patrol of the woods and I spied four men deep in the woods. They had the markings of the Imperial Legion."
"The Legion has returned to Skyrim? Curious." Nelkir said. "I would have suspected that they'd learned their lesson after General Tullius' execution."
The scout spoke up. "Jarl, if I may, I've heard rumors from the south of an Imperial force gathering to the south near Cloud Ruler Temple led by a survivor of the Civil War, they call him Bayleon Charteris."
Sinmir grunted. "Charteris was a field commander during the War. His men were massacred in the streets of Solitude, but it was believed he was not among the dead, but fled the city via the cistern. It is not unlikely that he's returned with support from Emperor Titus Mede III."Hrognar, from his seat in the corner scoffed. "Mede is a puppet. And the ones holding the strings are the Thalmor. This is their doing."
Frothar spoke up for the first time in a while. "We have no proof of that just yet. But let us remain on alert. Scout, what is your name?"
The young man's eyes widened, then he cleared his throat. "Istanir, Jarl." he said with a slight bow.
Frothar leaned forward in his chair. "I want you to travel to Falkreath and tell Jarl Dengeir to keep a watchful eye on the southern borders for us, we cannot be too careful."
Istanir nodded. "It will be done, my lord."
Frothar smiled. "Good, then the matter is settled for now."
/
4E 218, 13th of Morning's Star
Solitude, Province of Skyrim
Hadvar stood down the street from the Blue Palace, the look of true sadness and disdain for his surroundings; if they had been noticed, might've given him away as an Imperial spy. Thankfully, they were not. A few days ago, General Bayleon ordered him to seek transport across the border via a hay cart, then hitch a ride with a group of lumberjacks to Dragon Bridge, from there, Hadvar walked all the way to Solitude and made it there in the allotted amount of time. Only the occasional wolf stood in his path.
His mission was rather simple. Remain in Solitude for the duration of Bayleon's invasion and report on the going's on. Troop movement, morale, the people's happiness, and the welfare of the High King. His informant was coincidentally a fellow former resident of Riverwood, the Bosmer Faendal. Hadvar had to clue as to how the usually reserved Faendal came into the Legion's service, but nonetheless, he was there.
Hadvar rounded a turn down a Solitude alleyway and there, dressed in a long dark brown hood and cape was Faendal. He was recognizable with the bow strapped to his back and twin daggers at his hips.
Faendal turned to Hadvar and smiled under his hood. "It's been some time, old friend." he said, removing the hood.
Hadvar returned the smile and they grasped each other's forearms in greeting. "Too long. What is the new development in Solitude that warrants me being here."
"Well, it's nothing that is a problem of Bayleon's in the short term, but rather the long term. It appears Elisif has had a son."
Hadvar felt his fists clench as he heard her name. She was the widow of High King Torygg before he was Shouted to pieces by Ulfric Stormcloak. She remained loyal to the Empire for a time but after their victory, she used herself as a bargaining chip and married Ulfric. Once a beacon of Imperial loyalty, she was now a reminder of Stormcloak corruption.
"They been trying for almost two decades now, how is it she can still bear children?" Hadvar asked after his emotions calmed.
Faendal sat down on a bench and Hadvar sat beside him. "When Torygg was killed, she was only 14. Ulfric's first daughter wasn't born until 208, seven years later. It's fair to assume Elisif is still able to bear children. Despite this boy being her sixth."
Hadvar rubbed the stubble on his chin. "We must consider every angle. Find out more on this Son of Ulfric. We must be sure that he is legitimate before Bayleon hears of it."
Faendal nodded. "That would be wise." he said before his thoughts trailed off and the two Imperial agents were left in silence.
Finally Hadvar spoke up. "Why do you work for the Empire, Faendal? Back in Riverwood, you were just the quiet mill worker."
Faendal sighed. "When was the last time you were in Riverwood, Hadvar?"
"I was there only a few days ago, but… I had no time to stay and catch up. Why?"
Faendal's eyes dropped to the stones at his feet. "Ten years ago, a young man dressed in a Stormcloak uniform stumbled into Riverwood, bleeding and could barely walk. Hod, Gerdur, Alvor, and I tried to hide him but in a matter of days, a small force of Stormcloaks came for him."
Hadvar was invested in every syllable that came from Faendal's mouth. "What happened?"
"They claimed the man was a deserter on the run and that sheltering a traitor to the Stormcloaks was punishable by death. They found him under Alvor's bed. Alvor and Hod took sole responsibility… They hung them from the village walls."
Hadvar was visibly shaken up by the revelation that his uncle and Hod were dead. "What of Gerdur and Sigrid? Frodnar and Dorthe?"
Faendal smiled. "Don't worry. They're fine, I've managed to keep in touch with them. They're in Whiterun living with Camilla and…" his words trailed off.
"And?"
"...Sven. Bastard is second in command of the Whiterun guard. Answers directly to the Thane."
Hadvar put a hand on Faendal's shoulder. "His time will come, old friend. Trust me."