Lydia of Whiterun was not a woman easily intimidated. She had stood her ground against bandits, spiders, trolls and all manner of creatures across Skyrim in her time of service as housecarl to the Jarl of Whiterun. Having lived twenty three summers, she was bit too old to be considered marriage material, not what most men looking for a young healthy childbearing wife would want anyways.
Staring carefully into the reflection of her mirror, Lydia made sure that every part of her armor was placed on properly. She had to be particularly presentable today, after all the Jarl had announced that she had been given the honor of becoming the personal housecarl of the new Thane of Whiterun. And this was not just any nobleman who had earned enough coin and power to deserve a title and voice in court, but a man who had proven himself with blade and courage in the service of the Jarl.
Dragonborn, came the whispers from amongst the guards. The ones lucky enough to survive the head on assault against the dragon that had attacked the Western Watchtower had spoken in hushed tones of how the new Thane had brought down the dragon by himself whilst their arrows and blades were turned aside by the fire breathing monster's seemingly impenetrable hide. A mage they said, one of great power. He had filled the skies with lightening and fire, piercing through the savage beasts leathery wings, successfully grounding the mythical creature. Speaking with the voice of the damned, he had awakened the fallen soldiers who littered the battlefield, sending a dozens upon dozens of the undead rushing fearlessly towards the thrashing beast.
While the guards had continued to rain arrows from a distance, the dragonborn had summoned a blade of ethereal power and charged fearlessly towards the downed dragon that had been tearing apart the zombies that had harassed the creature.
Circling about so that he came up outside the eye line of the dragon, the man had leapt courageously onto the dragon's head, grabbing hold with his free hand while stabbing wildly with the conjured long blade in his other. The tortured creature had screamed and thrashed more than ever, kicking up a cloud of dust that blocked the view of those few who were still alive, holding back their arrows for fear of hitting the man trying to kill the beast.
With a final roar that shook them to the core of their beings followed by a thump that made the earth jump beneath their feet, there was silence. As the dust settled, a strange glowing halo of light was dimly seen swirling about the man that stumbled through the ash and dust, a nimbus of power that seeped into his very skin.
Dragonborn, said to be those of the ancient bloodline who slew dragons and absorbed their souls to fuel their dragonsongs. Speaking the old tongue of the great wyrms, they could command power unlike any other with a shout. Stories of dragonborns were highly revered amongst the Nords, the few that had cropped up over the century had always heralded times of strife and great change. With the return of the dragons, the new dragonborn would surely be at the center of the maelstrom of events that will soon unfold and be recorded in history along with the other old tales.
And Lydia of Whiterun was to become the housecarl to the new dragonborn, given the task of guarding him, and in essence guarding the future of all of Skyrim. Understandably, even the well-seasoned housecarl felt out of her depth given the vastness of her next assignment.
Breathing out an explosive sigh, Lydia gave her reflection one final examination, carefully scrutinizing her steel armor. She had polished the metal carefully so that even though it was well used, it shown brightly, a reflection of her competence. The nicks and scarring on the metal plate was proof that it was not for show; she had survived many battles to get where she was. Hopefully the new Thane would approve of her.
A knock on her door broke her out of her thoughts and she quickly turned towards the entrance.
"It's open."
One of the many servants of the Jarl scurried in, a flustered look on her face.
"The Jarl sends for you my lady. The Thane has arrived."
Feeling her heart skip of beat, Lydia nodded her head before glancing quickly back at the full length mirror. She was as presentable as she was going to get.
Taking a deep breath, she took the steel sword laid out on the table and sheathed the blade into the scabbard. Grabbing the well-worn steel shield she had leaned against the table leg, she marched out of her room with a straight back and a determined face. Today she would be accepting her most important assignment, and like all other assignments she had taken, she would not fail her Jarl.
