Hey guys, I am completely sorry this took so long to release another chapter, I will keep up on it more, I just kept putting it off and again i'm sorry if anyone was waiting for this chapters release.
Hope you all like it, R&R please.
Some things I should mention in this chapter, first of all, I extended the landscape because I think it should take more than a day to travel two thirds of the country on foot, and also increased how much a septim is worth, just because i'm sure people don't like carrying bags filled with 200 coins around.
The searing forge gave off a heavy heat, doubled by the hot summer sun, and tripled by the heavy apron and clothes made working at the forge nearly unbearable today. But Conan was determined to finish shaping the last axe blade before noon. Alvor was behind Conan, busy wrapping the hilt of the imperial blades they had finished yesterday, it had been a large order of three dozen that were due by the end of the week. A special request from somebody in Whiterun. The two had worked long into the night and before sunrise all week until they had finally finished shaping the steel and assembling the blades with the hilts. But by then a hunter had come to town, his gear in desperate need of mending, Conan had been surprised and proud when Alvor had entrusted him to complete the order on his own after only four months working at the forge.
"Well I'll be busy finishing up these blades, but my young apprentice here can help you same as I could." Alvor had said. Though the hunter had been skeptical at first, and insisted on staying and watching what happened to his gear, his skepticism turned to appreciation by the time Conan had finished reshaping his axe and mending his boots and helmet by late afternoon.
"That's will be about twelve septims, for reshape and repair." Conan told the hunter. Calculating the prices Alvor had set.
"I'd have payed double that." The hunter said upon inspection of Conans work. He counted out the septims, throwing in an extra two.
Conan was about to put the money in the chest where all daily profits were stored, but Alvor stopped him. "You did the work, lad, profits yours." He said. Though Conan did not feel entirely right about it, he did agree, and through the coins in a small pouch he hung on his belt.
That evening Conan sat at the table quietly eating his soup while listening to the others around the table speak. Though the house did have a welcoming feeling to it now, it did not feel like home, though he no longer felt like a stranger there as he had when he arrived nearly half a year ago now.
Sigrid spent most of her time working on crops along with many of the other villagers, every night at dinner she would explain any rumors she had heard from the others, most of it turned out to be gossip, word about the war, either too idealistic to be true or too grim to bear. But mostly she just focused on what happened around the village, arguments between the tavern bard and the wood elf who worked at the lumbermill over some woman who helped run the general store- which had a recent break in resulting in the lost of some valuables. There was plenty of other things, but most of it was just dull stories heard from travellers and bards.
Though the people who often came to the smithy for repairs, or builds often had stories and information from all around the Reach. But since most of their business came from the hunters, Conan heard little about the war, since all requests for equipment for the imperial army came by courier and was always picked up by a runner at a specified date.
But every now and then somebody came through with information from outside the Reach and they were usually pretty open about sharing with whomever would listen, but it was all usually the same, one side had the upper hand, then the other did.
After the conversation around the table had ended, Conan asked: "Is there any news from Cyrodill?"
Sigrid shot him a sympathetic look, and said "I'm sorry, Conan nobody has heard anything from across the borders yet." Conan hadn't expected anything different.
"It's the same answer every night, you know." Dorothe pointed out. She didnt like Conan, he only recently learned it was because she had been hoping to help her father at the forge before he had arrived. Though he felt bad about it, knowing it may be because of him she had to work with her mother, which he knew she despised. But her opinion of him meant very little to Conan, if he was going to be honest. Nobodies opinion really meant the world to Him, he had far worse things to worry about, and it wasn't until the next day that he finally announced his plan that he had decided months ago.
"I'm going to join the Imperial Army." Conan said while he was sorting the leather scraps for what was usable.
"They don't let children join the army, last I checked." Alvor replied with a chuckle, he was mending one of the sawmills axe blades.
"I know, I'm going to find somebody to teach me to fight. Then when I can, I'll go to Solitude and join up." Conan said. "It's better that way, so I can get some experience."
"That's fair." Alvor said "Sounds like you've been planning this for awhile."
"Since I got here, almost." Conan replied.
"Your plan is to get back to Cyrodill, isn't it lad?"
"If there is no war, than there is no reason for the borders to be blocked." Conan reasoned.
"And you think you can end it?
"I think I can help," Conan said.
"And if you die?" The blacksmith offered.
"Then at least I did more than sit around relying on others to solve my problem." Conan explained.
"The civil war is Skyrims problem, lad."
"But if it doesn't end, everyone will be affected, all across Tamriel, right? If the Thalmor are angry everyone will suffer. There are already attacks in Cyrodill, and probably in other parts of the world too-" Conan paused in his work, a memory of the Imperial City, of injured soldiers returning from duty, some missing limbs, others being carried on stretchers, completely covered by sheets, then the city from a distance,engulfed in smoke. His last memory of Bruma, set in flames "-I can't just do nothing Skyrims problem is my problem! It's everybody's problem! And it hurts everybody! I can't do nothing, maybe I won't make it any better, but at least I'm willing to try something!" Conans teeth clenched as tried to recover from his unexpected outburst
"Alright lad, calm down, I understand your position. I only want to see if you had really thought this through as well you thought, and I see your serious." He ceased his work on the forge.
"Perhaps you are serious about it, but you need gear. At least a weapon. And somebody to teach you enough to survive to Whiterun" Alvor said.
"Whiterun?" Conan looked up at the smith. Now calm, he was capable of thinking better.
"Aye, if you need somebody who's willing to train you a fair deal in combat, of all Skyrim, Whiterun is the place, if you have the coin of course."
"But how do I get there?"
"It's an easy route from here, about two days down the main road."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Travel is always dangerous, but the area is well guarded, since we're neutral for now we don't lose any soldiers or guards to the war effort."
"But I thought people from the Reach joined in the war all the time." Conan pointed out.
"Aye, they do. But that's their own choice, same as the blades we craft, somebody in Whiterun supports the legion, and so do I, so I'll rent my hands and talent to aid them."
"But what if somebody who support the Stormcloaks find out-"
"And what if you take a sword to the gut?" Alvor cut him off "It's at risk we take to bring order back to Skyrim." He paused and chuckled "and the rest of Tamerial.
