Cold.
That is what I felt as I awoke, bound, with a raging headache, on a carriage alongside some sort of soldier, a noble (or, he looked like one), and a peasant. Yes, this does seem like the setup to some terrible joke, but I assure you, this was completely serious.
As I regained my senses, I took the time to look around. All there were trees and rocky hilltops as far as the eye could see, and I could see farther than the average Breton. The soldier, a Nord, must have seen me stir and look around, because he decided to get my attention.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
I nodded.
"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, same as that thief over there."
The Nord motioned beside him to the peasant-looking Nord. He looked froghtened beyond belief, as if he was about to be sent to some plane of Oblivion.
"Damn you Stormcloaks," he began, " Smyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."
Stormcloaks? Was that soldier one of those? What about the noble?
"If it hadn't been for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.
The thief then looked at me.
"You there," he said, "You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
All I could do, as my voice didn't want to work, was a sort of head gesture of, "Oh, okay."
The soldier Nord started again.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."
At this point, the Imperial soldier driving the carriage had begun to get annoyed, so he said, "Shut up back there!"
After a bit, the thief looked to the noble and asked, "And what's wrong with him, huh?"
The soldier then got a very irritable look in his eyes.
"Watch your tongue!" he snapped. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King!"
Ulf... Ulfric Stormcloak?
Oh.
Ohhhh, no.
I had heard of the man before, that he had killed the previous High King with only his voice, and that he was staging a revolution to take the throne and rid Skyrim of Imperial influence. The way he killed the High King must have been why his mouth was covered up.
The thief had the same realisation, and suddenly looked terrified.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh, Gods. Where are they taking us?"
The soldier then got a distant look in his eyes.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."
The thief then started to panic, denying that he was actually here. The soldier cut in, trying to calm him.
"Hey," he said, "what village are you from, horse thief?"
The thief responded, "Why do you care?"
"Because a Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
The thief broke a bit. "Rorikstead... I... I'm from Rorikstead."
As the carriage pulled up to a small village, an Imperial soldier said, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
Another man, I'm assuming Tullius, responded with, "Good. Let's get this over with."
At this point, the thief began praying to the Divines, asking them to help him in some way. All I could do was bow my head ans lightly shake it, resigned to my fate.
As we pulled into the village, I could see an Imperial decorated in ornate military fatigues speaking with a few Altmer. The armour of the Altmer looked... familiar, but I couldn't auite place my finger on what they belonged to. Then, the soldier inadvertently answered my question.
"...and it looks like the Thalmor are with him..."
The Thalmor. Those are the elite members of the High Elven army, the Aldmeri Dominion. If they were here, then there was no way any of us were going to escape.
I took a look around the village. It looked... backwater, for lack of a better word. The Nord soldier spoke again.
"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."
I phased out his speaking and stsrted staring out into space. A few minutes afterward, the carriage stopped.
"W-Why are we stopping?" asked the thief.
"Why do you think?" replied the soldier. "End of the line." The soldier looked at me again.
"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
I gave a light smirk as everyone in the carriage stood up and got off.
The thief began panicking again, and the soldier snapped at him to buck up.
The Imperial higher-up began barking at us.
"Step up to the line when your name is called."
"Empire loves their damn lists," the soldier commented.
A soft-spoken Imperial soldier began calling off names.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
Ulfric walked over to where some other Sotrmcloaks sere gathered - near a headsman's block. A shiver ran down my spine.
"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric," said the Stormcloak that was riding the carriage with me.
"Ralof of Riverwood."
Then the aforementioned Stormcloak made his way to the block.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
Oh, here we go, I thought to myself. This should be a spectacle.
Lokir walked up the Imperial and said, "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"
Then he started running back from shere we entered.
"Archers!" the other Imperial commanded. Then, a soldier drew his bow and arrow, nocked the arrow, and fired. The shot connected right in the back of Lokir's head and he dropped to the ground, dying instantly. I shook my head and sighed.
The higher-up then said, "Anyone else feel like running?"
The softer-spoken Imperial looked at me.
"Wait. You there. Step forward," he commanded. I did so.
He took a good, long look at me. "Hmm. Breton," he mumbled, "shoulder-length brownish-black hair, long head, small nose and mouth, green eyes, small build, light skin tone, two-nail scar on left cheek, red, cloudy paint around eyes. Who are you?"
I cleared my throat. "I am... *ahem* My name is Ferius Sparkwell."
"Hm. You from Daggerfall, Sparkwell? Fleeing from some court intrigue?"
He looked to his captain. "What should we do? He's not on the list," he said.
"Forget the list," the captain replied. "He goes to the block."
"By our orders, captain," he said, a bit sullen. I must have looked very shocked, as the next thing the Imperial said was, "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock."
"I... I understand," I told him.
"Follow the captain, Sparkwell."
I nodded and did as I was told. As I walked, I saw Tullius glaring at Ulfric.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," he said. "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."
All Ulfric could do with the cloth around his mouth was grunt at Tullius.
Tullius continued, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."
After Tullius made his speech, a roar sounded over the horizon. Everyone looked around, confused as to what could have made such a sound. The soft-spoken Imperial even asked what it was, but Tullius dismissed it, probably wanting to continue the execution without too much delay. The captain then called for the Priest of Divines to give everyone their last rites. However, as she was speaking, a Stormcloak interrupted her, wanting to get on with everything. He took his place at the block, and the headsman readied his axe. As the axe came down on the Stormcloak's neck, it made a sickening crunch. The head rolled into a basket as a small uproar began on both sides, Empire and Stormcloak. Then, the Imperial captain called me next to the chopping block. After she called me, though, another roar sounded over the mountain. The pause after this one was noticeably longer, with even Tullius looking a bit worried. The captain regained ber form quickly, though, and called me over again, more forcefully. As I made my way over to the block, I thought that this was truly the end. However, as the captain pushed me down onto the crook, I saw something that would change my life forever: a dragon.
Authour's Note: The first chapter of my first fanfiction! Sorry if it was too much like the vanilla opening of Skyrim to your liking, but I couldn't think of a better way to introduce Ferius. ANYWAY, feel free to leave a review, follow, favourite, whatever you wanna do.
Have a good one!