Cal was at a loss for words with a dozen questions rolling through his mind.
Skyrim
He reached back to his lessons. The country to the north of Cyrodil, across the mountainous borders. A frozen wasteland full of unruly savages. His tutor had said. Bigger people, storms, monsters and bigger problems. He could not be there, they had to be lying.
"How?" He said quietly, almost a whisper.
"We were hoping you could fill us in on that one, lad. The mountains are an unforgiving challenge for a seasoned nord. For an Imperial boy…" Ralof did not need to finish.
Cals headache was not getting any better. "I… was in Bruma. I think there was trouble. A fight. I don't know." Cal was helpless. He wanted to see his parents, or his aunt and uncles. Somebody who could sort this out and explain it for him. Ily! that struck another note in his head, another memory that felt tied like a knot he could not untangle. The house was in danger, like a hundred smiths were banging steel at once.
Father and Mother were still in the Imperial City. That was something he knew. He had to get back to them, or Aunt Rela and Uncle Linus if not. Ily too, he had to find her.
"Bruma. The only border pass to Skyrim you can use by foot his there. But the Imperials have not let anyone pass for almost half a decade. Save for more of their damn imperials." Ralof said.
"Because of you bastards." Lokir cut back, Cal thought he might actually strike Ralof if his hands had not been bound.
"We fight for you too, thief." Ralof said back calmly.
"I said shut up!" The soldier shouted back. Cal flinched again. He had never been scolded by a city guard. Or even spoken to one for that matter. Let alone an actual Imperial Soldier.
"Helgen ahead!" another in front of the line of wagons shouted.
"Ah, Helgen." Ralof said calmly "I used to be sweet on a girl from here."
"Helgen? What is in Helgen?" Lokirs' voice shook. The edges of his eyes clearly threatened by tears. That scared Cal. What could frighten a nord so much?
"Relax, Thief. As I explained. Sovengarde awaits us."
"Divines help us!" Lokir sobbed. Cal's heart sank at that.
"What village are you from, thief?" Ralof asked Lokir.
"What do you care?" He snapped back.
"A Nords last thoughts should be of his home."
"Rorikstead" Lokir sighed. "I'm from Rorikstead"
Ralof nodded. He looked at Cal "And you?"
"The Imperial City." He said quietly. Tears forming under his eyes.
"Fear not lad, you will see your family and friends in Sovengarde. Not matter who gets there first."
That did no make Cal feel better. "They are not going to kill us?!"
"Aye lad. They are. In Skyrim, anyone old enough to care for themselves, is old enough to be treated as any grown man would be. They found you crossing the border by yourself." He paused "Damn the Empire. It's funny, growing up the imperial walls used to make me feel so safe. But now..." Ralof Trailed off.
Cal buried his face in his bound hands. Not wanting to show his tears freely flowing. Hardly noticing the voices around him growing. He could not fathom how somebody could face death so calmly.
Murmurs that sounded concerned, some angry. Parents shoeing their children indoors. He could hear a woman crying somewhere.
"Look at that!" Ralof barked "General Tulius himself. And they even brought the Thalmor! Damn elves." Cal lifted his head from his hands, he knew he looked pathetic. Even Raylen would laugh at him if he saw the tear streaks running down Cals face. A white-haired man in regal Imperial armor sat on horseback chatting with a high elf and golden armor Cal had seen a few times during public events back home. Those events were always a quiet mass. Eventually Cals father had stopped bring him to them, and forbidden him from playing in the Palace district anymore. He had said it was no place for children.
Lokir was saying his prayers to the eight, he was inconsolable.
The wagon trailed through the town, and for a moment Cal was caught off guard by the structures. Buildings unlike any he had ever seen. In the Imperial City enormous stone buildings were put up with various homes dotting all around it. A Dozen families sometimes living in a single structure. In Bruma that had been different, wooden buildings all in uniform rows, enough space to store small amounts of livestock as so many there did. But here, there was no uniformity. Structures dotted the village in any strange in pattern Cal could see.
Suddenly the car lurched to a stop, and for a moment Cals heart did too.
"Why are we stopping?!" Lokir asked
"Why do you think?" Ralof answered calmly "End of the line".
