Chapter One - Darkwater Crossing
"Get your hands off him. Don't you know who he is?!" Ralof shouted at the Imperial grunt soldiers as they bound his hands and the hands of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and the true High King of Skyrim.
The Imperial soldiers laughed heartily. "Of course we know who he is," the short one said, smiling as he slapped Ulfric on the back. "We've been waiting for you, Ulfric. And thanks for bringing some friends. We're sure to be promoted now." Other Imperial soldiers laughed as they forced struggling Stormcloak soldiers into horse-drawn carts.
"Wait," said a tall, ugly Imperial who smelled of garlic. "We should cover his mouth. Rumor says he Shouted the King to death!" They laughed again, and the short Imperial ripped a strip of cloth from Ulfric's tunic, followed by another strip. Already in the cart, Ralof cursed at the Imperials, his face turning red with anger. The tall Imperial ignored Ralof kept his eyes and sword trained at the Jarl's neck. The short Imperial balled up one piece of cloth and forced it into Ulfric's mouth, then wrapped another around his head, securing the gag. "Therrrre we go, he won't be doing any shouting now!"
The soldiers shoved Ulfric up and into the cart. With him was Ralof, his second-in-command on this mission in western Eastmarch, and a dark-haired Nord and an unconscious man, both in rags. The unconscious man was also gagged. Another cart held four more Stormcloaks.
Ralof shouted more curses and spit at the cart-driver. He was rewarded with a blow to the temple with the butt of the cart-driver's sword, knocking him unconscious and sending him crumbling to the cart floor.