Chapter 1. Chopping Block
All Norman could here was the clopping of hooves on a worn road. As he slowly gained consciousness, he saw a grown-up Nord man with his hands bound at the wrists. Looking down, he saw his own hands bound. He was also wearing rags, instead of his usual white shirt and red hooded coat. 'No, no how could I let this happen? I was supposed to stay safe, my mother- "Hey you, little boy." The Nord man was looking at him expectantly. "You were trying to cross the border, right?"
Norman nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, um, how did I get here?"
"I'm afraid you walked right into that imperial ambush, same as is, along with that little thief and that da... young elf."
Norman took note of that slip up that almost sounded like a swear, and looked to his right. Across from him was a young, chubby imperial boy with curly red hair, also dressed in rags, who seemed a little too cheerful, considering the circumstances. The boy caught him staring and gave Norman a warm smile.
"Hi, I'm Neil. What's your name?" Neil gave him a look of encouragement.
"Nor...Norman." This kid seemed completely harmless. He supposed that charisma would make him a pretty good thief, but Norman had nothing to steal... at least, nothing that could be seen at the moment. Was it possible that the redheaded boy just wanted to talk?
"And what about you?" Neil looked at the girl on his right, a little Altemer girl with long black hair and light blue eyes, who seemed quite reserved. She was dressed in simple brown clothing. She glanced at him, but quickly looked back down at her hands without saying a word.
"Aw, don't be shy, I don't bite." No response.
This didn't discourage Neil in the slightest, as he immediately looked over to Norman's right, smiling at another adult male Nord. This one had his mouth gagged, for some reason. No one else in this cart, or the one in front of them, could say the same. Why?
"So, what's your story? And what's with the gag-up?"
The younger adult Nord glared at Neil sternly. "Mind your tongue, boy. You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
Norman frowned. "Who?"
The young Altemer girl started figeting anxiously. She seemed pretty scared.
Neil also seemed to know who he was talking about, and while he didn't look... scared, per say, he did slump a little.
"Well, if he's here, and we're here, and the Imperials got us... so, Norman, put any thought into your afterlife?"
"What?!" He looked over to the Nord man. "What's going on? Where-Where are they taking us?"
The Nord man looked at Norman with pity, just as the gates to a stronghold opened up. A man mentioned something about a headsman, and then it all became clear. They were going to be executed. Why? All he did was cross a border. He was 11. Why would they execute a refugee? A child? He looked at the shaking Altemer girl and the slightly less bubbly Neil, and a hint of resentment bubbled up inside of him, but he bit it down. Resentment never got him anywhere. In fact, resentment was the reason his mom was probably... he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.
"Look at him. General Tullius, the Military Governer. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn, elves, I bet they had something to do with this." He looked at the three children, and sighed. "This is Helgan. My home, Riverwood, is not far from here. Where are you from?"
Norman looked up at him. "I'm from a small town in Cyrodiil. My mom sent me here, to her homeland, in hopes of escaping the persecution of Talos worshippers, but... well, here I am."
Neil spoke up as they neared the end of the Hold. "I grew up in Riften. I heard tales of a legendary archer thief in Cyrodiil who stole from the rich and gave to those who didn't have enough to live on. I wanted to be that guy. But-" The wagon stopped. "I guess it's the end of the line. Oh well, I lived a good one."
The Altemer girl said nothing, but... she was crying. Why was she here? What did she do?
An imperial woman dressed in heavy armor stepped up to their wagon and ordered everyone to exit the wagon. Everyone got off. An Imperial man stood beside her, holding a list.
"Empire loves their damn lists." The kind Nord man told them bitterly.
Norman looked around. There was a large crowd surrounding them. His mother and father had told him about public executions, but he never really understood why people watched them. Fascination, curiosity, maybe bloodlust he supposed. It was mostly grown-ups, but he noticed two short, identically sized figures wearing novice mage cloaks, one in a rich light blue, the other an unusual shade of bright pink. Why would a mage wear pink? Their faces were hidden, but their uncomfortable body language gave off the impression that they really didn't want to be here.
"When I call your name, step forward." The Imperial man called out. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The gagged man walked forward, nearly knocking Norman over. Jarl, where have I heard that before? Norman pondered.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the Nord man said respectfully.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The Nord man stepped forward.
"Neil Downe, of Riften." Neil stepped forward, but not before giving Norman an encouraging smile.
"Don't worry, we're still kids, I don't think any of us is going to end up someplace bad. Maybe we could be friends there, too. See you soon?"
Norman couldn't believe this kid's optimism. Here they were, about to be killed, and this kid, who couldn't be more than 10, was just thinking about being friends with him after they died. It wasn't fair.
Neil looked up at the Imperial Captain. "Ma'am, is it alright if I write a letter to home, first? I don't want them to worry."
The captains cold eyes softend a bit, and reached into her satchel and pulled out a quill, an inkwell, and a piece of parchment, and removed his bindings. "Make it quick." Neil sat down on the wagon and started writing. "Make sure he doesn't try anything." She told a soldier. She looked to the Imperial man. "Hadvar, continue."
Hadvar looked at his list, and narrowed his eyes. He looked up at the Altemer girl, then back to his list.
"Agatha Pendergast, traitor to the Aldmari Dominion." He looked at her again, bewildered. "You're just a child."
Eyes from the crowd turned to her. Agatha whimpered. "I didn't know..." she cried quietly. General Tullius looked at her in suprise.
"Keep a close eye on her." he told the captian.
"Yes, General Tullius."
Hadvar looked at the list, then at Norman. "You there, step forward."
Norman hesitantly stepped forward, unnerved, confused, and scared.
"Who are you?" Hadvar asked.
"I'm Norm..." he gulped. "I'm Norman, Norman Babcock."
"You picked a bad time to return home to Skyrim, kid." He looked at the Imperial Captain. "Captian, what should we do, he's not on the list."
"Forget the list, he goes to the block. All three of them."
"But they're childr-"
"I am the captain, now do as I say!"
"By your orders." He looks to Neil, still scribbling on his note, Agatha sobbing quietly, mumbling something that sounds like a plea, Norman, whose expression was too complex to read, and Ralof, his old friend who became a traitor over his beliefs. It's times like this I wish that our laws weren't so unyielding... I am sorry, I will make sure that your remains are returned home." He looked to Agatha. "I will do what I can for you."
General Tullius stood in front of Ulfric. "Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgan call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged skyrim into Chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"
Neil just got his parchment taken way, after being asked where he wanted it to be mailed. Neil gave the address of his house in Riften, and the guard hastely wrote the address as given. They bound his hands again.
A loud, foreign sound, like a roar, echoed across the sky. Everyoned looked up, even Agatha, although briefly.
"What was that?" A Hadvar asks.
"It's nothing, carry on." General Tullius orders.
"Yes, General Tullius." The captian looks to a priestess. "Give them their last rites."
The Priestess walks to the block, and utters a prayer. As she utters the words,"... blessings of the eight divines upon you...", one of the Stormcloak soldiers steps up to the chopping block.
"Oh, for the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."
"As you wish." She tells him.
The headsman placed the man on the chopping block.
"Come on, I haven't got all morning." The Stormcloak told him.
Why does he want to die? Norman thought to himself. He looked over at Agatha, tears still streaming down her face, an expression of horror and fear overcoming her. She closed her eyes.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials, can you say the same?" he asked them. The headsman lifted his axe. Norman turned his gaze down, a sickening TWACK filled the air, and he looked up. The man's severed head tumbled into the little wooden box, as the headsman moved the body out of place with his foot. Norman felt a sense of horror, disgust, and only more confusion. Why? Why is this a vaild punishment for something like crossing a border or picking a pocket!? "Next, the Nord boy." The captian commanded. Norman looked at her, shocked, as another loud, unfamiliar roar filled the sky.. "I said, next prisoner."
Hadvar gave him a comforting squeeze on the sholder. "To the block, kid, nice and easy. It'll be over before you know it." Hadvar genuinely looked sorry for Norman, and he couldn't bring himself to hate him. It wasn't his fault.
Norman walked up to the chopping block, his body shaking with apprehension and anxiety. Hadvar stood in front of him, as the headsman pushed him down with his foot. Norman let out a shaky sigh, and silently prayed to Talos and Arkay. The loud roar rang out again, this time seemingly very near.
"What in Oblivion is THAT?!"
Meanwhile...
"Finally, Helgan. Whiterun can't be more than a day's walk from here." A bluenette Nord girl, dressed in iron heavy armor, held the map in front of her best friend, a Redguard boy with wild hair and unusual hazel green eyes, also dressed in steel.
"That's great, Jonesy." He didn't seem to be paying attention. The girl socked him in the shoulder. "OW!" He rubbed his arm, not all that hurt.
"What's with you today, Wybie? You seem distracted." She gave him a stern, but concerned look.
He sighed. "I... we've been walking for days... I-I was just expecting something interesting to happen, th-that's all."
A loud roar sang out. The duo heard heavy wingbeats from above them. The girl shoved him to the side of the road as a giant creature flew ahead of them, heading straight towards Helgan.
"By the eight," Wybie gasped, watching as the giant lizard flew into the highest tower. "Uh, Coraline, what should we..." he looked to where Coraline was standing next to him, but she already had her mace drawn, shield in hand, running straight to the open gates of Helgan. "You know, there's a difference between heroism and suicide." Wybie muttered to himself as he followed her, his own shield and sword at the ready.
