I awoke slowly to the rattling of a carriage. I opened my eyes and sat up quickly, trying to figure out what was going on. My hands were bound, and three other men shared the carriage with me. The driver of the carriage was a legion soldier, and my stomach clenched in fear. This couldn't be good.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake," said the man sitting across from me. He was clearly a Nord, and wore his blonde hair shoulder length, with a braid near the front. I couldn't help but notice he was dressed in a Stormcloak uniform. He must be a member of the rebellion, then.
"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there," the man continued.
He was right of course, but that didn't explain why I was here. I wasn't a part of the rebellion. I was a simple farmer. What had I done wrong? It didn't seem fair that I was to be punished simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I should have answered him, but I said nothing. I was already in enough trouble as it was. The last thing I needed was to be seen associating with Stormcloaks. Maybe I would be able to clear up any confusion when we reached wherever it was we were going.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy," a dark-haired man, presumably the thief, growled. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." Looking at his tattered, threadbare clothes, I couldn't help but wonder if he really would have made it all the way to Hammerfell. He didn't look so good. His face was gaunt, and the dark shadows around his eyes made me think that he wouldn't have survived the journey there anyway.
Turning to me, the man said, "You there. You and me—we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
I agreed with him wholeheartedly, but before I could say anything, the Stormcloak soldier said, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief."
"Shut up back there!" the Imperial soldier yelled. I was glad that I hadn't been doing any of the talking. Maybe that would help me plead my case later.
Ignoring the Imperial soldier, the thief continued talking. "And what's wrong with him, huh?" he asked, nodding to the carriage's other occupant. I was curious myself. Unlike the rest of us, he was gagged in addition to being bound. Whoever he was, he must have been a real troublemaker.
"Watch your tongue," the Stormcloak snapped. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." My eyes widened in shock. No wonder he was gagged. Ulfric was legendary. If the rumors were to be believed, Ulfric had killed High King Torygg with only the power of his voice. I wasn't sure I believed that such things were possible, of course. Everyone had heard of the reclusive Greybeards, but surely if it were possible for a man to command such power, more people would. Somehow, he wasn't at all what I had imagined. He looked…humbled. Like he had already resigned himself to death. Even sitting down, it was obvious that he was a towering figure, but he looked like a man who had lost all hope. I had trouble picturing him as the self-serving opportunist everyone claimed he was.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion," the thief said in awe. I rolled my eyes, wondering if the thief had taken a blow to the head when he was captured. He seemed content to state the obvious, rather than actually contribute to the conversation.
"But if they've captured you…Oh gods, where are they taking us?" the thief cried. Apparently, he had just realized that we were being brought to our deaths. That kind of confirmed my suspicion that he wasn't the smartest man alive. I wondered how he had managed to survive as a thief. He probably wasn't a very good one. He wasn't smart enough to be.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovengarde awaits," the Stormcloak soldier replied.
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening," the thief fretted. I had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to laugh at his frantic denial of the situation. Maybe if we all wish really, really hard that this isn't happening, we'll wake up and this will all have been a bad dream, I thought sarcastically. I would have said it out loud, but I still sort of hoped that I would be able to talk my way out of being executed, and I couldn't risk spoiling what little chance I had.
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" the Stormcloak asked.
"Why do you care?" the thief said sullenly.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
He didn't ask me about where I was from, and I didn't offer any information. The less he was associated with me, the better, as far as I was concerned.
"Rorikstead. I'm…I'm from Rorikstead," the thief answered.
Before they could say anything else, the Imperial Soldier called, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" Apparently, we were here. And the Imperial's words left little doubt that we were to be executed. My stomach clenched nervously. I really hoped I could talk my way out of this. Otherwise, my life would be over in a few short minutes.
"Good. Let's get this over with," General Tullius replied. His words earned my respect. He was dealing with prisoners of the rebellion (at least a couple of them, anyway), but it was apparent that he took no pleasure in it. That was good. Maybe he would be reasonable.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," the thief prayed. I doubted his prayers would do him any good, but maybe they would give him comfort in his last moments, anyway.
"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor," the Stormcloak snarled. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." He clearly didn't think very highly of the Thalmor. Not surprising, I supposed, given that he was a Stormcloak. I had never had anything to do with the Thalmor, but if they were working with Imperials, I didn't have a problem with them.
"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," the Stormcloak said. It seemed strange to me that he would be concerned with mead at a time like this. He was only moments from death, and his only thought was of alcohol? I wondered if he was an alcoholic, but decided it didn't really matter. Besides, I felt like I could use a drink myself, even though I didn't normally drink. Something about facing my own eminent death made me wish for a pint.
"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe," he continued. I looked at him strangely. How had we gone from talking about mead and girls to talking about Imperials? I wanted to tell him that the Imperials were still keeping people safe, and that he was here because he was a Stormcloak and a traitor, but given my current situation, I suspected that my words would fall on deaf ears. I was as much of a prisoner as he was, and I hadn't been a part of the rebellion. So why weren't the Imperials keeping me safe? They will, I thought, just as soon as I explain to them that I don't really deserve to be here.
As the carriage passed through town, I could hear the whispers of the townspeople, wondering what we had done to deserve death.
"Who are they daddy?" a little boy asked. "Where are they going?"
"You need to go inside, little cub," the boy's father replied, ushering his son into their house and glaring at us as if we were going to corrupt his little boy with our vile ways.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers," the boy argued.
"Inside the house. Now," the father insisted. He looked as if he were going to spit at us as the carriage rolled past, but apparently he respected the Imperials too much to do so.
"Whoa," the Imperial soldier called, and the carriage came to a stop. We were surrounded by Imperial Soldiers, and everyone started to panic a little. The sight of the executioner standing across the courtyard holding his sharpened axe didn't help soothe our nerves.
"Why are we stopping?" the thief asked. Yup. There was definitely something wrong with his mind. If he couldn't figure out what was going on, even with the executioner standing there, then he was even dumber than I thought.
"Why do you think?" the Stormcloak asked him. "End of the line." He had much more patience for the half-wit than I would have, apparently. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us," he said, pushing out of the cart.
I would have been happy to keep the gods waiting for me. I didn't plan to die today. This was it. This was the moment they were going to realize that I didn't actually belong here, and I would explain to them that this was all just a big misunderstanding, and they would just let me go.
"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" the thief cried. He wasn't helping his case at all. He was just being a coward. And besides, even if he wasn't part of the rebellion, he was still a thief. It wasn't like he was innocent. Me on the other hand, I was just an innocent citizen who happened to get tangled up with the wrong crowd. That could hardly be held against me, right?
"Face your death with some courage, thief," the Stormcloak said, pushing him forward.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief was panicking now, and I nearly snorted with disgust. Even if the worst happened, and they decided that I was to die with the others, I wouldn't act like this. I would face my death with some dignity, at least.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," the Captain of the Imperial Guard called, ignoring the thief's senseless blubbering. We had been joined by other Stormcloak prisoners. Apparently, today was a good day to be executed.
"Empire loves their damn lists," the Stormcloak soldier sighed.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," they called. The towering man stepped forward calmly. I admired his collection, even in the face of death. I could see how he had commanded so much respect, even if I disagreed with his cause.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" the Stormcloak said fervently.
"Ralof of Riverwood," called the Imperial. The Stormcloak stepped forward. I finally had a name to go with the overly talkative man.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." At this, the thief seemed to lose his mind.
"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" he cried, making a run for it. "You're not going to kill me!" Even before the Captain of the Guard called halt and the archers raised their bows, I knew he was a goner. He didn't have a chance. Moments later, he lay face down on the cobblestones with an arrow in his back. He had died a coward, and hastened his own death, the fool.
"Anyone else feel like running?" the Imperial Captain demanded, turning back to the rest of us. No one else was that stupid. We all just stood there silently, waiting for the next name to be called.
"Wait. You there. Step forward," the man with the list said, gesturing to me. I obliged, stepping forward to meet his gaze.
"Who are you?" he asked me.
"Jofari the Blackthorn, sir," I replied respectfully.
"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman," he told me. That seemed promising. All of this was just bad timing. Maybe now they would let me go.
"Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list," he said. I held my breath, hoping she would instruct him to let me go.
"Forget the list. She goes to the block," she commanded, crushing any hope I had left. In that moment, I lost all respect for the Imperials. All my life, I had been told that they would protect me. And yet here they were, ready to kill me for crimes that I didn't commit, just because I happened to be here. It wasn't fair, and I hated them for proving that at least some of the rumors about the weakness of the Imperials was true.
"By your orders, Captain," the Imperial said. His tone suggested that he didn't agree with her decision, but he also didn't stand up for me. Maybe he was a decent sort, but he was also a coward, and I couldn't respect him any more than I could respect the ruthless Captain.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to console me. "We'll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerset Isle." As if that made this any better! I was still going to be dead. It wasn't fair. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to do…something. But I didn't dare. I wouldn't risk being shot the way that coward Lokir had been. I followed the captain over to where the other prisoners were already standing, and awaited my death.