I made this one a little longer by including some stuff I was originally planning to be used for a future chapter. Hope that doesn't disrupt the pacing!
I wake up on a cold stone floor, though I don't remember sleeping. I lift my head up from the hard ground, and look around.
I'm in a small jail cell, with the only furnishings being a bucket and a tiny bed covered with pelts. Looking out of the bars of the cell, I see multiple floors housing unusually empty cells.
Castle Dour dungeon.
"What's that? General Tullius? Is that you?"
The voice is coming from the cell to the right of mine.
"Yes." I answer, facing to the right.
"I saw you lying motionless on the floor when the Stormcloaks dragged me here, I thought they killed you. But obviously they didn't."
Unfortunately.
"Yeah, they didn't." I mumble. "So, do you have a name that I could address you with?"
"I'm Ahtar. The executioner? I beheaded Roggvir."
"You're the executioner? I'm surprised the rebels haven't killed you yet."
"So am I, but the worst thing they did was take a couple cheap-shots at me. I suppose they're planning on publicly executing me later. Ironic punishment you know." He says calmly.
I've spent so much time hoping the Stormcloaks will kill me, that hearing this man say that he'll probably get executed makes me jealous.
"So uh, why didn't they kill you?" He asks.
"I don't know." I lie. "Hey, where are all the other prisoners?"
"They all claimed to be Stormcloaks, so the rebels let them out so they could listen to Ulfric's speech."
"They just let any criminal claiming to be a Stormcloak out?"
"Yeah, I told them it was a bad idea, but they said that they'd "keep an eye on them". He says, using an exaggerated Nordic accent when quoting the Stormcloak.
Idiots. Most of em will esc-
"So why didn't they kill you?"
"Su Grah Dun!" The Dragonborn shouts. She bombards Rikke with stabs and slashes, the heavy Ebony sword swinging effortlessly with power only the thu'um could grant. Galmar and Ulfric have me pinned in a corner, I can't move to assist Rikke. The stabs and slashes puncture the weaker parts of her armor, and the few lightning-fast stabs she does block only tire her shield arm.
Unable to push her body any farther, Rikke collapses onto one knee. At this opening,like a wolf pouncing onto its prey, the Dragonborn jams a sword through Rikke's neck.
I hear a creaking door being opened, followed by heavy boots walking down stone stairs. Looking up, I see two Stormcloak soldiers walking towards my cell, One is wearing a closed-face guard helmet and carrying a bundle of ragged clothes, and the other wearing an open-face helmet with two horns poking out of it. Guard-Helmet shoves the clothes through the bars.
"Tullius, take off your armor and put these on." Horned Helmet says. "You're coming with us."
"Where to?"
Horned Helmet furrows his blond brows.
"We're not taking you to be executed, we're not like you."
Damnit, looks like the Dragonborn convinced Ulfric.
I stand up slowly. "Then where am I going?" I say, my arms crossed.
"If it'll make you more cooperative, we're taking you to the docks. There's a boat there that'll drop you off at a prison."
My heart races. The dishonor of not only losing Skyrim, but also being captured by barbarians like these, flashes through my head as if sent from Vaermina herself. And this dishonor would not just be on me.
"Remember cadets!" The instructor yells. "All soldiers of the Imperial Legion are extensions of the Empire itself. Any cases of theft, cowardice, and weakness are not just committed by you, but the Empire itself. Remember this, for the Imperial Legion is the most visible form of the Empire.
"I'm not leaving."
The two rebels stand silently, and than walk away. They start whispering to each other, unsure what to do when faced with a dedicated Imperial Soldier. They start walking back.
"Tullius, if you won't willingly come with us, then we'll have to use force."
"You can try that." I reply.
The two stand dumbly in place, once again unsure what to do.
Take that you traitorous bastards, you can't command me.
"Uh, Stay there." Horned Helmet says. He and the other rebel walk away, back up the stairs.
"Wow. That was uh, that was something alright." Ahtar chuckles.
"Brave? Stupid?"
"Maybe a bit of both" Ahtar laughs. "Uh, no offense."
"Ah don't worry about it. All the great soldiers of history owe both to their success. You think Tiber Septim attacked Sancre Tor in the dead of winter because it was the smart thing to do?"
