Chapter 6
Crusaders and Kings
"My lords and ladies; Thanes, Housecarls, and dignitaries from beyond the North: arise, as High King Thian and Queen Macalla grace us with their presence!" exclaimed the herald.
The royal couple entered with a retinue of guards and attendants. It was all very formal, far more than he would have expected from a society that prided itself on its brutishness, but he supposed royalty and nobility had to put on at least some air of dignity in the face of foreign representatives.
"Please, be seated," the king demanded in the guise of a request, scanning his audience with his roaming eyes before settling on him. "For the sake of all of those present," he declared, "we, the children of Skyrim, will not be intimidated or forced into coercion, whether by friend or foe; mortal," he forced eye contact, "or otherwise."
"Ahoo! Ahoo!" his guards shouted, bashing their gauntlets on their shields.
"Now then; what's to be decided today?" the queen spoke.
A number of petitions from those first in line were heard. Minor things, mostly, it seemed. But there was one petition of note; a nest of Hagravens was causing havoc amongst the townspeople of Rorikstead. Whiterun's troops wouldn't go near it, claiming it was beyond their paygrade.
"Then surely, the Companions would be your next contact, would they not? Why come you to me?"
"Good King Thian, even if we pulled our resources together, we could not hope to afford a contract with the Companions. We turn to the throne, as protector of the realm, to protect us, your subjects."
"Then would not the Jarl of Whiterun be your sponsor? Would he not be responsible to finance the protection of his Hold?"
"Whiterun is still recovering from Oblivion's siege, my king," the man was growing visibly irritated.
"As are we all, or did you miss the scaffolding repairing the very walls that surround you when you entered my city?"
This king had a decidedly less than appetizing personality, he observed. Almost to the point of pettiness. Perhaps instead of waiting his turn, he could take the opportunity of necessity to force his way into Skyrim. He only hoped his fellow knights were having better luck in their respective provinces.
"Your Majesty," he stood, and the room went silent.
"Who is it that interrupts these proceedings?" the king demanded. "Speak, or have you lost your nerve?"
"Forgive me, good king, but I believe I have an answer to your problem."
"Well, this is certainly a first!" Queen Macalla exclaimed.
"My queen, I'm sure the people of this city, amongst others, had the same reaction when denizens of Oblivion swept out of their Gates and into yours," he replied.
"Hold there! You say too much. Guards! Arrest him!"
"Your Majesty I assure you, I mean no harm and no offense, to you or your wife!" he tried to explain.
"Yet you dare stand before being summoned, armed and armored as you are?"
"My king, perhaps I can be a voice of reason in all of this," Bjorn stood beside him, and the room was silent once again. The Harbinger of the Companions carried weight indeed.
"Bjorn Ebonsmith; you are always welcome in my court, as you know. But who is your…companion? Does he not know proper decorum?"
"Forgive his outburst, my king, I beseech you. He is unaccustomed to our ways, though he is one of Skyrim's sons; returned from his years abroad."
The guards looked to their king, wondering with their body movements what was to be done. He realized that in a war of words, the High King of Skyrim and the Harbinger shared near-equal footing. He decided to break the silence.
"Humbly, and with great respect and humility, a thousand pardons, I beg of you, Your Majesty," he began, taking a knee as he did so. "I only wished to offer my service—that, and the service of my Order—so that not only would Rorikstead be protected, but that by our service, your very realm would be more secure."
Thain looked to ponder a moment, before ordering everyone out, save for the Harbinger and him. Once the room was clear of people, the king summoned the two of them forward.
"And whom is it that you represent, friend of Bjorn Ebonsmith?"
"I am but a servent of the Nine, great king," he started after some hesitation. "I hoped to have an audience with you. I come baring a proposition for you, one that would be of great benefit to your realm at almost no cost to you or your coffers."
"Well, you have our attention now," Macalla offered.
"Yes, indeed you do. Now before you say anything else, I demand whatever name you go by and any titles you carry. Speak."
He had hoped to avoid such an exchange, preferring anonymity, but how long he could remain anonymous when he was the largest man around.
"A noble king, such as yourself, has surely read The Song of Pelinal?"
"Of course. We all know the story of Pelinal Whitestrake. What of him?"
"Good king, I am Sir Jace, the Divine Crusader."
The king's jaw dropped, but only briefly. The queen eyed him suspiciously, then, he suspected, with a hint of lust.
"I've heard that the Knights of the Nine had been reformed, and that the Relics of the Crusader had been found; but I never thought to see them for myself…you wear them now? They look so plain…"
"Pardon, good king, but presently, I wear only the armor my order. But the relics are never far from me, should I have need of them."
"I think you need them. Right now," the king replied. It was a demand.
"Ah…as you wish," he said, rising again to his feet.
The throne room grew bright as he summoned the relics. Most of his knights had seen him perform the ritual of the Crusader before, but those in the room most likely had only known conjuration magic as practiced by the arcanely gifted, or necromancers. This seemed similar, and yet so different, as he saw in their eyes.
A blinding flash of light, and there he stood now, clothed in the Armor of the Crusader, sword and shield strapped across his back, mace hanging from his belt.
"Truly…you…ah…that is…my Lord Crusader!" Thian stuttered.
"So the rumors are true," Macalla exhaled.
"That's a sight I'm likely not to forget," Bjorn whistled. "I'd trade all the Skyforged Steel in Nirn just to wear that armor once."
"I hope I have proven myself to you, good king, kind queen. Might we return to the matter at hand?"
"Of…yes…by…means…" Thian stuttered again.
"Good then," he said, saying a quick prayer to the Nine for once again finding him worthy to wield the relics. He reversed the ritual, and was once again in his ordinary armor, bearing the simple Red Diamond; the aura that had surrounded him subsided.
"That was…well…we are honored to have you here, Divine Crusader. Sir Jace. Now, to your proposal…"
He laid out for the benefit of all his plan to open a Chapter House for his Knights. Preferably a castle, with a forge and room for growing crops. Ideally centrally located, so as to be able to respond to any threats. A place where any who needed them could find them.
"I find your proposal interesting. Tell me, good knight, how this will help my realm?
"The man who asked you about the Hagraven nest? He would come to us, rather than seek your aid. We would deal with Hagravens; witches; necromancers; any Daedra still lingering in Nirn. In this way, you would be free to deal with political enemies, at home or beyond. But your realm would be secure from within from elements and enemies of the supernatural variety."
"And what do you seek of me, apart from territory that is mine to grant?"
"As we would not seek to be paid as the crown or a Jarl or other companies would," he nodded to Bjorn, "we would ask that we be free from traditional taxation. We do not seek to profit from our presence here; only to serve the realm."
The king stood walked over to the window. Either in thought or giving the illusion that he was thinking. Likely, his mind was already made up, one way or the other, but of that, he could not actually be sure.
"Sir Jace, I will need a bit of time to think this through. And drawing up paperwork, if I decide in favor, will take some time. And I will need to locate territory, probably outside of Haafingar. Somewhere more central, as you propose. Even if I told you yes this very moment, it would take longer than a day to make official."
"It took us some time to cross Cyrodiil and the Jerall mountains. The Knights of the Nine practice patience, good king."
"Ha! I'm sure you do. Very well. Come back on the morrow. I will have my decision for you then. Is there anything else I might do to be of service to the Divine Crusader?"
"Well, it is more of a favor than a service, but, I am to wed soon. A great honor it would be, if the High King of Skyrim were to be present."
The room went silent, again. It seemed to be a common occurrence when he opened his mouth. He'd have to see what he could do to address that particular phenomenon.
Then the king began laughing. Not mocking; just jovial.
"Forgive me, Crusader. I forget myself. I just had no idea that you…well, that any of a Holy Order could do that."
"I'm unaware that I cannot," he joined in the laughter. "It may be that I will set a precedent."
"Today has been an interesting day in Solitude," Bjorn whistled.
"Well, I can't decide that tonight either. Being a king, even High King, means you must discuss taking a piss with your advisors. But rest assured, when you return tomorrow, I will have answers for you."
"Splendid. Thank you, Your Majesty. My knights and I will be staying in the Temple of the Divines, should you require our services."
"And you can find me at the Skeever, my king," Bjorn turned to follow him out the door.
"A moment, Harbinger, if you please," Thian beckoned him.
"Oh, ah, of course," he replied, clapping him on the back as they parted. "How may the Companions be of service to you, my king?"
And as they parted company, he felt his mood darken just slightly. But he brushed it aside. Though he had known Bjorn longer, the Harbinger and the king were likely in far more constant contact. Matters that didn't concern him. Mundane matters of a political nature, he told himself. Not his concern. Not his realm.
Once again outside, he felt the cold bristle his face whiskers. Not terrible, though, this cold. Then why was he shivering? He looked to the northwest, and felt his chill deepen. There was something…something there…but what?
Ideally, once they received their charter, he could find out. It was not nothing that he felt ill at ease.
A rustle of grass to his left, and a shadow seemed to disappear just as he turned to look. He gripped the hilt of his sword, but there was nothing to fight. He shook his head. It had been a long day. A warm fire and prayer in the Temple of the Divines would set him at ease.