Disclaimer: I don't feel like writing the same thing at the beginning of each chapter. Go read the start of one of the other chapters if you feel like reading an actual disclaimer. Potatoes.


Chapter 9: Hail, True Son of Skyrim

Fire… All around him tall flames danced onto the ceiling of the small house.

"Why did this have to be the way I go out…?"

6:00am Monday

"C'mon! Get up mister Pence!" A Young boy called, "We're supposed to start work soon and you're still in bed!"

"Alright Thomas…" The brown-headed man yawned as he sat up in his cot, "I'm up."

"It's about time! I thought you were gonna lay there all day."

Pence frowned, "Who do you think I am, huh? I'm not that lazy."

"Pretty close though," The small child huffed, "Here's your laundry, Ma' just finished with it so you're gonna have to hang them up to dry."

"Thanks kid. Now go on, I'll be out in a minute to join you and your father."

"You'd better," Thomas mumbled under his breath, after handing the man his wet clothes.

After the boy left, Pence stood and stretched to get the sleep out of his muscles. The folks that lived here had been good to him. Thomas' father, Sabjof, had given him the opportunity to work the farm in exchange for the shack he was given and the boy himself made sure that there was never a dull moment for the inhabitants of the small farm. Cooking food and washing filthy tunics were taken care of by Sabjof's wife and daughter, despite the latter's constant protest on the matter.

The brown-haired man opened the door to his tiny shack with his right hand and held his damp clothes with the other. He stood in the open doorway for a moment to take in his surroundings. The quaint farm looked just like any other to the normal, passerby eye, but to pence, this place had become him home away from home; wherever that may be.

"Finally decide to come out of your den, eh Pence?"

Said man let out an audible sigh, "Good morning to you too Sabjof…"

"Make a note so you don't forget," when he noticed Pence's head shoot up in curiosity, he continued, "you and I are going into town later today, make sure to bring anything you'd like to sell."

"Is anyone else coming with us?" Pence asked.

"No, It's just going to be the two of us," Sabjof explained, "Anymore and we'd be there a lot longer that I'd like."

"Okay. When are we going to head out?"

"About an hour after we finish tending to the fields I suppose. We'll cross that bridge when it arrives."

Irkngthand Depths

"Are you all deaf?" Mercer asked, "You'd think that with twelve or so arrows pointed at the lot of you, you people might grow some ears."

"You bastard! How can you sit there with that smug attitude while you rob the guild blind?!"

"Ah, Karliah," Mercer scoffed, "it's been a long time traitor, or should I say, a long time coming!"

"How can you all side with that piece of trash?!" Tyler asked, addressing the rest of the thieves beside Mercer, "He's been stealing from the guild for years!"

"Mercer told us you'd say something like that," The archer farthest to the left spoke up, "Just because Delvin and the others in the Flagon believed you, doesn't mean you'll fool us!"

"Wait," Brynjolf said, clenching his teeth, "Don't tell me…"

"They're dead Brynjolf," Mercer sneered, "Every one of those traitors, and I'll admit, it was a bit hard to stomach the idea of them going against the guild."

"You son of a bitch!" The Nightingale man yelled back in rage, "I'll rip your fucking head off!"

"Oh, now come Brynjolf," The guild master snickered, "do you really think you're in the position to be making threats?

"Yeah," Cameron said, from behind him, "I think he is." Mercer stiffened as he felt cold steel being pressed against his throat.

"What the- how the hell did he get up here?" one of the guild members shouted.

"The answer to that is simple," Cameron chuckled, "but I don't feel like telling all of you."

Mercer dropped his sword and put his hands in the air, "Think about what you're doing, I could make this worth your while if you'd look the other wa-,"

The traitor's answer was the black knife being pressed harder into his skin, "Shut the hell up. I'm not going to kill you; it's not my place to take this away from those who really deserve it." The hooded man then shouted to the other guild members, "Now, since the tables have clearly turned, order your men to drop their weapons." Mercer nodded to his men and they did as instructed. "Good dog. Everyone, listen up! Karliah, Tyler and Colton have something they want to show you all, when they're done with you, this bastard will be tied up and ready for a punch in the face from each of you." The group of thieves looked at each other in confusion, but figured that they had no choice in the matter, given their current position.

'It's not their fault,' thought Brynjolf, who was walking up to, a now tied up, Mercer Frey, 'they were just following the orders of their guild master. Even if he is a backstabbing son of a bitch,' "Now," he spoke, while popping his knuckles, "time for some payback you milk-drinker."

Whiterun, 4:00pm

"Alright, meet me back here by sundown; shops close after eight o' clock."

"Got it Sabjof," Pence replied, "I'm just going to run by Belethor's place to sell some goods and then I'll probably end up being back here way before those two moons come out."

"Yeah, right…" The Nord man sighed, rubbing his temples, "the last time you assured me you'd be back here before the sun set, I had to drag your arse out of The Bannered Mare before you chatted Ysolda's ear off." Pence just stood there, mouth agape. He hadn't a response to that statement and the silence from the man all but confirmed Sabjof's suspicions. He just laughed and waved behind his back as he left his silent friend, "Don't make me wait this time."

Pence glared at his friends back, then cupped his hands around his mouth, "I have no idea what you are talking about Sabjof!" he folded his arms and huffed when he saw the Nord's laughter only increase. 'What the hell does he know anyway? So what if I was going to pay Ysolda a short visit? I wasn't planning on being that long…'

Belethor's General Goods

"Welcome! Come, browse around!" A skinny Breton man greeted as Pence walked trough the door, "Long time no see Pence. Where ya' been for the last couple of weeks?"

"Oh ya'know, just planting and picking crops for the season. How's business been Belethor?"

"Well, with the war and everything…" The Pawnbroker began, "Things are going great! Goods that were hard to acquire before this Nordic civil war are now even harder to get, making the prices higher than ever. Don't worry about me though; I'll still have everything in stock, just like always. Now, what can I do for you?"

Pence smiled at the man. He had something in common with the merchant; they were both different. Most all Bretons had a serious and poised nature to them, and Belethor was pretty much the polar opposite. As for Pence, he had always felt out of place among the rest of the Nords that inhabited Skyrim. "Actually, I've got something for you today Belethor."

"I see," the Breton said, rubbing his chin, "Well, let's see it then." Pence nodded and dumped the contents of his burlap sack onto the counter. The merchant's eyes widened at the gems and gold bars that fell from the bag. "Wow," he exclaimed, picking up a glistening emerald, "where did you come across beauties like this?"

"Well, I was on one of my morning walks when I discovered an out of place chest," Pence explained, "Some fool just left it sitting in the trunk of a fallen tree!"

Belethor laughed as his friend told the story, his eyes never leaving the random assortment of gems. "Well, that certainly is an interesting tale. Now, back to the things you've brought me. I don't have enough septims to pay you for all of this, but I am thinking that we can set up some sort of trade, if you're interested."

Pence folded his arms across his chest, "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, the other day a drunk Orcimer came barreling into my store at about mid-day," the shopkeeper began, turning around and fumbling through some chests, apparently looking for something, "he was shouting all of this 'Code of Malacath' nonsense before drinking himself unconscious. The drunkard fell right on top of an expensive urn I had on display, so I took this off of him as the payment."

On the counter sat polished Orcish sword. The farmer's eyes were locked on it; he had seen swords before, but none could compare to the one Belethor had just presented to him, 'Why would I need a sword? I'm just a simple farmer.' He thought, 'Although, I've heard that being an adventurer pay better than any job short of a Jarl…' "Ah, what the hell? I'll take it!"

"Good to hear! Here's the remaining gold I owe you for the gems," Belethor said, placing a good-sized sack of septims alongside the orichalcum-made weapon.

The Bannered Mare

"What's with the sword strapped to your back Pence?" a redheaded Nord woman asked, "I never took you for the violent type."

"Yeah, who knew the whelp had it in him?"

Pence glared at the smart-mouthed woman, "Quiet Uthgerd, no one told you to butt into this conversation."

"Oh-ho-ho, you think you're something milk-drinker? I'll have you know that I haven't been beaten in a single hand-to-hand competition yet!" the armor-clad lady boasted.

"Hush up," Hulda, the bartender shouted, "you both are acting like a couple of children. Listen up, Mikael is about to start."

The bar patrons both grumbled under their breaths as they turned towards the bard. In truth, Pence always looked forward to these stories; he loved hearing about the latest exploits of his favorite group of adventurers. The farmer had heard before that one of them owned a house in Whiterun hold, but every time Pence and Sabjof's path had crossed by the manor, the man seemed to be away on some journey or another, 'I wonder if that's what the life of an adventure consists of; constantly going on one quest after another,' the man thought, quite intrigued by the concept.

His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of The Bannered Mare's Bard, "Alright fellow citizens of Whiterun hold, it's time once again to fill you in on the latest adventures of everyone's favorite group of sellswords!" Pence leaned closer in anticipation, "From what I've heard, they have continued to do the tasks everyone thought impossible. Why, just the other day Cameron, Malakia and the companions' own, Colby, assisted Victor in Completely eradicating every last Frost Troll in the labyrinthian!"

The bar patrons' eyes all widened in shock, "How- why would they do that? That place is completely overrun with those things."

"No one knows," The bard continued, "but people have now started to use that place as a crossing point again; making it easier to get through the mountains. However, not a single person knows what the original intentions were behind, what is now being called, 'The Great Troll Purge', as the journeymen themselves have not said anything about the matter."

"Wow," Pence said, in awe of the adventurers, "First, they get rid of most of the bandits in Whiterun hold, and now this! These guys are amazing."

Road to Riften

"Glad that's over," Cameron sighed, "That son of a bitch was more trouble than he was worth."

The rest of his friends in the horse-drawn cart nodded and gave grunts in agreement. "Tyler?"

"Yeah Malakia?"

"What are you and Colton going to do now? I mean, the guild is all but destroyed."

"Well, I guess the plan now is to help Karliah and Brynjolf rebuild the guild, or what's left of it." Colton answered in place of his friend.

"So, you won't be joining us?" Cameron asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"We will at some point," Tyler responded, speaking for the both of them, "but for now, we will go back to the Flagon and help the guild get back on its feet."

"Alright then; this is your stop," The two thieves nodded to their comrades and waved goodbye.

"Wherever you all go, just know that you have the support of the Thieves Guild!" Colton shouted as the cart departed.

"Same goes to you two," Cameron yelled back, "Just don't break into my house any more!"

There were a couple of hours of silence before the two remaining adventurers said anything to each other. Staring at the breathtaking night sky was more captivating than conversation. Until Malakia thought enough time had passed to address the elephant in the room, or the cart to be more correct. He lowered his hood and looked at said elephant. "Okay, I have to know something."

"Shoot." Cameron said, gaze not leaving the stars.

"How did you get behind Mercer?" The Nightingale asked, "I've been trying to figure it out in my head for the last couple of hours and I still couldn't come up with a way."

Cameron finally lowered his eyes, but looked strait ahead instead of turning to face his friend. "I'm dying."

"Wh- ho- what did you just say?"

"I'm dying, or, in a more correct term, I've been cursed. I've gained some pretty cool powers, but it's slowly killing me." The hooded man grabbed the bottom of his tunic and lifted it up, revealing a black stab wound scar on the center of his chest. From it, several black veins branched out. When Cameron saw his friend's eyes widen, he pulled the piece of clothing back down, "Yep, my thoughts exactly when I first saw it. The veins seem to spread the more I use the powers."

"How do you know it's killing you?" Malakia asked.

"Every once in a while when I use 'it' a sharp pain racks my body, and it hurts more each time the pain returns."

"What exactly is 'it'?"

"It's this, sort of, shadowy energy that comes from the scar and pulses through me. I think that the person who used this on me expected it to kill me, rather than give me supernatural abilities."

"What are these 'abilities'?" The Nightingale asked.

"Teleportation, invisibility, and time maniplulation." Cameron responded.

"That seems kind of over-powered, don't you think?" Malakia chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, not really. Whenever it use them, they sap my energy; kind of like when Vic casts a spell. Only, his magic doesn't slowly kill him…" Cameron said.

"Well, there's got to be some way to cure it, right?"

"You'd think," he sighed as he returned his gaze to the nighttime sky, "I've asked the Arch-Mage at the Collage of Winterhold, consulted the Arcanium, and talked to damn-near every priest of every one of the divines. I think at this point it's a hopeless task." Cameron threw his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

"Well fuck, stop being so damn depressing," Malakia shouted, slugging Cameron on his shoulder and returning his gaze to the stars like the person sitting next to him, "there's got to be a cure out there somewhere, we just have to find it."

Whiterun Outskirts

"Why don't you ever listen? I said meet me back at the town center by sundown, what part of that statement did you not understand?"

"Oh come on Sabjof," Pence wailed, "I was only a couple of minutes late."

"I know, just tryin' to give you a hard time lad." The Nord man laughed. His chuckling died down when a group of people dressed in blue tunics approached their cart.

"Hail travelers! Where are you off to this fine evening?" the one in front of the group asked the two farmers.

"Oh, just on our way home after a long day of travel," Sabjof answered, smiling at the men, "How about yourself?"

"Well, my men and I are looking for the true sons and daughters of Skyrim that are willing to join our bout against the imperial scum that poisons this land!" The same man explained, causing the others in the group to raise their weapons and shout in unison, "Would you happen to know anyone like that?"

"Unfortunately no, I've got enough trouble tending to my farm," the Nord farmer answered, "but I wish you luck in your endeavor."

"Fair enough," the Stormcloak man replied, "well, if you meet anyone who shares our patriotism, send them to Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak wants to speak with them."

'Ulfric Stormcloak; why does that name sound so familiar?' Pence thought.

"I will do just that." Sabjof said, waving to the group of rebels as they passed.

"Who were those men Sabjof?" Pence asked when they had put a good distance from the group.

"Those men, were part of a group of rebels called 'The Stormcloaks'," Sabjof responded, not taking his eyes of the road, "headed by a man by the name of Ulfric Stormcloak."

'There's that name again,' "Who is Ulfr- wait, what's that glow up ahead?" Pence pointed to a faint glow that was a fair distance ahead of their cart.

"What in Oblivion are you talking abou- wait, that's in the direction of the farm!" The Nord spurred the horse puling the cart, causing it to dart forward in a sudden burst if speed.

The two men looked on in horror as they approached burning fields, and a collapsed house with three bodies in front of it. Each of them had their hands bound behind their backs and a pool of blood around them. A makeshift signpost was staked in front of them, "Take Notice: This is what happens to people that aid the rebel scourge put upon this land." Pence read as Sabjof slowly approached the lifeless corpses that used to be his family. Tears streaked down his face as he fell to his knees in front of his dead loved ones. The farmer picked up the smallest of the three and held him in his arms, and then he lifted his head and wailed to the sky, cursing the divines for his loss. Pence stood there in silence as his friend cried into the chest of his lifeless son.

"You in the mood to kill some Imperials?"

North of Windhelm

"Damn this freezing weather!" Pence cried as he trekked through thigh-high pockets of freshly deposited snow.

"Hold fast lad," Sabjof called out to his companion, "we've almost reached the standing stone."

"Speak of the Daedra…" Pence sighed as he pointed to the silhouette of, what looked to be, a shrine of some sort. The freezing man drew his Orcish sword and lifted his shield in front of his chest, prepared to slay the Ice Wraiths that lie in wait at their destination.

The two sword-barring men approached the standing stone slowly, fully anticipating whatever they might find. Two floating slaughterfish made of ice came out of the unusual stone. The Ice Wraiths snarled at the two warriors, showing their razor-like ice teeth. The one positioned in front of Sabjof charged at him; the Nord bashed the monster back with his shield and fallowed through with a thrust towards the Ice Wraith, just narrowly missing it. The next one attacked Pence by casting an Ice-spike spell at him, which he easily blocked with his iron shield. He smiled but yelped in shock and dropped the piece of armor when it started to freeze in his grasp; the thing was useless now. Pence let out a battle cry and charged the Ice Wraith. The freak-of-nature saw the attack coming and flew to the side to dodge, but Pence had counted on that movement, then he spun around and used the momentum of his movement to cleave the beast in half, killing it instantly.

Sabjof cheered at his friend's triumph, foolishly turning his attention from his opponent. "Sabjof, look out!" Pence yelled, but he could do nothing except watch as an ice spike hit him in the middle of his chest, "Damn you!" Pence thrust his sword into the Ice Wraith turned its attention to Pence. The monster turned into a pile of dust, as it died while skewered buy his weapon.

"Nice job lad *Cough* didn't think you had it in you." Sabjof said as Pence propped him up against the Serpent Stone.

"Don't talk Sabjof," Pence ordered, chocking up as he talked, "You've lost a lot of blood, but I can get you a healer back in Windhelm if I hurry."

"No… Don't…" The dying Nord man said in a raspy voice, "*Cough* I don't think I'm gonna' make it kid…"

"Don't talk like that, you're going to be just fine. Damnit, stay with me!"

"I-I want you to do *Cough* something for me," Sabjof wheezed. He reached up to the necklace he wore and took it off with a jerk of his wrist; "This was a gift to me from my wife on our wedding day… Do me a favor and wear it when you kill that bastard Tullius."

"Sure, I'll do that for you."

"Don't cry Pence, Nords aren't supposed to shed tears…" those were Sabjof's last words before he died against the freezing surface of the standing stone.

The Blue Palace

"Sorry about your friend son, I'm sure he was a true son of Skyrim, right until his last breath." a man wearing a bearskin cloak and hood said, "Are you ready to take the oath?"

"Yes, I'm ready to take the oath."

"I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak…"

"I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak…"

"…Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim."

"…Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim."

"As Talos as my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond…""As Talos as my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond…"

"even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms."

"even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms."

"All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"

"All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"

"Now you're one of us," Galmar congratulated after the oath was finished, "Hail Sabjof, true son of Skyrim!"

"Thanks Galmar."

"Now, that your one of us you get to means you get to tag along on a little trip with me,"


A/N: Well, that's another chapter done! Yes, I know I'm a heartless bastard, but bear with me, there is a reason I killed off the farmer, I just won't reveal that reason yet. Also, I owe you guys an apology for this chapter taking longer to come up than it should have. I owe that to me having to get ready for the dreaded return of school. I've had to do a bunch of shit to prepare for it these last couple of weeks, so I've been super busy and haven't had as much time as I would like to write this chapter. The next chapter will be the last chapter in this book, and the next one won't be out for a long while. I've been working on another story that I am really getting into writing and there will be a prologue to it coming up in my stories soon, so be on the lookout for it! As always, be sure to leave a review if you liked this chapter. If you didn't like it, please leave a review telling me why so that I can further improve my ability to not screw up everything I do. Auf Wiedersehen!