"Hey. You. You're finally awake." Will slowly opened his eyes and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the skandian sitting in front of him. He was muscled, like a skandian should be. Furthermore, it appeared that the area was covered in snow. It look only a few moments for him to realize that he was moving. He was in a cart, going through the snow, sitting next to a skandian, and, as he noticed with dismay, his hands were bound with tight, leather cords. This was a prison cart. The skandian began speaking again.
"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush. Same as us. And that thief over there." Will looked up and saw another skandian. He seemed both timid and angry as he addressed the first man.
"Damn you stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." Will was bewildered. Where was Skyrim? Surely this is Skandia? The 'skandian' continued.
"If they hadn't been looking for you, I'd have stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell."Hammerfell? Skyrim? What was going on? The man turned to Will.
"You there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these stormcloaks the empire wants."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The first man replied.
"Shut up back there." Will turned. The man driving the cart had decided to speak up. His prisoners were being a bit too rowdy for his liking. Will studied him. From the angle he had, all that he could see was that the man had on a set of armor unknown to Will. It looked to be leather, but shaped to be something... distinct. The thief began again.
"What's wrong with him, huh?" He motioned to the last man in the cart. This last skandian was gagged. He was wearing the same armor as the other stormcloak, as they seemed to be called. The stormcloak seemed angry.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" So, at least one of them has a name, Will though to himself. The thief thought for a moment.
"Ulfric... The jarl of Windhelm?" His voice turned dark. "You're the leader of the rebellion! But if they've captured you... Oh, Gods! Where are they taking us?" The stormcloak was dour.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovengarde awaits." This sent the thief over the edge.
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening!" The stormcloak turned to him.
"Hey. What village are you from, horse thief?" The thief looked confused.
"Why do you care?"
"A nord's last thoughts... should be of home." The thief paused.
"Rorikstead. I'm, I'm from Rorikstead." Suddenly, the carriage driver shouted forward to the city that had just came into view.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" The man, presumably a general, replied.
"Good. Let's get this over with." The thief spoke again.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kinoreth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" They rode through a gate into a large, walled city. There was a group of people standing and conversing to the right of the carriage. As they followed the path to the left, the stormcloak spoke.
"Look at him." The said, staring into the group at the general who had been on the wall a moment ago. "General Tullius the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves." He said with disgust. "I bet they had something to do with this." Will focused in again at the mention of elves. They couldn't be serious, could they? Elves?
The stormcloak glared into the group a few moments longer, then looked around at the city.
"This... is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with Juniper berries mixed in." He glanced at the large tower they were passing. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe..."
They passed a house with a large front porch. On it was a boy and his father. Will faintly heard the boy saying, "Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?"
The father quickly responded with, "You need to go inside, little cub." The boy looked up at his father.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." The father was adamant.
"Inside the house. Now."
"Yes, papa." The child stood up and walked back into his house as the carriage pulled up against a wall. The thief was worried again.
"Why are we stopping?" The stormcloak replied.
"Why do you think? End of the line." Will began to think. Surely there was a way out of this? The stormcloak looked up at Will. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting." They all stood up and walked out of the back of the carriage. The thief began to try to explain his position.
"No, wait. We're not rebels!" The stormcloak replied with disgust in his voice.
"Face your death with some courage, thief." The thief didn't let up.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" No one responded to him. A woman up ahead, obviously in charge, took control.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" The stormcloak stood next to me and muttered, "The empire loves their damn lists."
The soldier next to Mrs. In-charge began calling names. Off to the left, the same was happening to the other carriage. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." As Ulfric stepped off to the left, the stormcloak next to me muttered again.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The soldier continued.
"Ralof, of Riverwood." The stormcloak, Ralof, followed Ulfric to the side as the soldier continued. "Lokir, of Rorikstead." The thief began to panic.
"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He ran past the to soldiers in a panic. The woman called, "Halt!" Lokir kept running. "Archers!" Lokir was shot by the five archers standing about who had access to bows. Lokir fell flat on his stomach, dead, with five separate arrows in his back. At least the archers are good here, Will thought grimly. The woman looked at the crowd.
"Anyone else feel like running?" No one responded. The roll call started up again and the soldier looked at his list. And then again.
He looked up at Will and asked, "Who are you?"