(AN: Yay, a review! Hopefully it's not the last one. Honestly, I feel that the game developers were already greatly biased for the Empire, making all the Stormcloak supporters dicks, racists, corrupt or just a-holes while all the nice, intelligent, informed and honorable people are Empire supporters [manipulative portrayals much?]. But my brother complained for half of The Dragonborn and the Lioness that I include Torgrim, even though that character makes no sense at all since Crixus is based off of my brother and, like him, harbors a deep-seated, pathological hatred for Nords and thinks Skyrim sucks in general [no, really, my brother is an Oblivion hipster and thinks, like everyone else on here, that the people and situations in Skyrim are sub-par and a plot by the game designers to appeal to the "evil" casual gamers].)
(I usually give a purpose for everyone who appears in my story. Rarely do I end up with someone with no end in mind [even Rayya the Bright, aside from possibly becoming the Falkreath huscarl, is set to appear in a spin-off set in Hammerfell], but Torgrim serves no purpose to this story at all. Eirik is the hero, the savior of Skyrim, Lydia's friendship with him needs to be explored, Crixus' purpose I can't tell yet but it is very important, and for now, Mjoll is kind of on the edge. I feel like she has very little to work with as far as making her interesting but not compromising her lawful good alignment. I feel like there aren't enough well-written lawful good characters because everybody is jumping on the misunderstood villain band-wagon [I don't care if emo-Loki from Thor and the Avengers has daddy issues, I don't care if Flint Marko was so caring about his terminally ill daughter that he chose to selfishly land himself in prison rather than find a legal way to save her from Sam Raimi's Spiderman 3 - Revenge of the Peter Parker pelvic thrusts - and I don't care about Elsa the Snow-Queen as voiced by Idina Moonzel from Frozen! Period. I'd much rather care about Jon Snow of Game of Thrones, a morally good character set in hell...literally].)
(But aside from being spammed with misunderstood villains, I have a question for you all. In Oblivion, the Imperial soldiers wore heavy plate armor akin to 14th century knights. In Skyrim they reverted to the 4th century Romanesque gear from Morrowind. Typically, my brother took offense by this and said that it was stupid for the Empire to "devolve" from full body plate armor into light leather Roman armor. I gave a decent explanation in The Dragonborn and the Lioness, that it would probably be less costly for an empire weakened by war to fund an entire army with heavy plate armor in rugged terrain [unless, like my brother, you believe that the Empire has fully recovered from the Great War with the Dominion but are still at such a disadvantage that the unification of Skyrim is essential]. Personally I think it would be hilarious to see leather-armor Stormcloaks able to weave and dodge and move swiftly around heavy, tin-can suited Imperial guards from Oblivion: they'd probably work up a sweat in those suits and get hypothermia. Of course that won't happen, because I'm sick of all the heavy plate-armor knightly orders of Oblivion and how they are incompatible with the Viking-era like atmosphere of Skyrim and, personally, I feel that it would have ruined Skyrim if my brother got his wish and the environment of Tamriel evolved to the next logical step from 14th century plate armor...gunpowder and cannonade of the 16th century. Of course, like a racist, he says that this wouldn't matter in Skyrim because it is a backwards "frontier" country [frontier to what?], but seriously, I hate the Dwemer ruins for how out of place their robots, computers, steam and cog machines appear, so a gunpowder age Skyrim would not be interesting at all imo. What do you think?)
Journey by Sea
When morning came, both Eirik and Lydia were weary-eyed and half asleep. Mjoll rolled out of bed wearily and said nothing as she girt herself in her armor. As Lydia gathered the rest of their traveling things, Eirik walked over to Mjoll and asked her privately about if she had dreamed.
"Yes, I dreamed tonight," she replied. "And I do not wish to speak of it." Mjoll looked at Eirik with her big amber eyes and that was enough. The look of concealed horror and contained dread was more telling than any words she could speak. Eirik nodded knowingly and did not press the matter.
They left the Windpeak Inn and made their way down to the wharfs on the first tier of the city. Here they were led to a familiar sight, the Red Dog, the carrack belonging to Shaddar al'Malik. The design was at least two hundred years old, a relic of the bygone age of the Septims and the old glory days of the Empire. Mjoll followed Eirik and Lydia to the edge of the docks where they said their farewells as Lydia deposited their gear in the part of the hold where they would sleep.
"Gods be with you, my love," Eirik said.
"The Nine be with you also," Mjoll replied. "I will do what must be done swiftly and be here at this spot when you return. And, if the Divines see fit to take you from me...may you die with a sword in your hand." She leaned in and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his large shoulders. After a moment they parted and Eirik boarded the Red Dog without as much as a single look back.
Onboard, Eirik saw Crixus and Torgrim waiting for him, as well as several faces he hadn't seen in a long while. Among them was Gorak Giant-Tamer, a large orc who had once fought in the Imperial Legion, Rayya the Bright and an elderly Redguard with a long grey-white beard: this was Shaddar, the captain of the ship and the only person Eirik knew who could possibly be called Crixus' friend.
"Welcome, Dragonborn," Shaddar greeted. "I am honored to have you on my ship once again."
"How do you know I am Dragonborn?" Eirik asked.
Shaddar chuckled. "This one," he said, gesturing to Crixus. "Has not ceased to sing your praises. Just a few days ago we were in the Bee and Barb in Riften and he told me all about everything you two have done since that morning when you fought the dragon."
"I find that difficult to believe," Eirik said, giving Crixus a glaring look.
"You shouldn't," Torgrim spoke from behind. "He speaks very highly of you: one might even say that he flatters you beyond your capacity to deliver."
"Torgrim!" Rayya greeted warmly. "It has been too long! How is the family?"
"Well, very well, Talos be praised," Torgrim replied.
"Hey, watch yourself, kinsmen!" Eirik interjected. "Crixus won't tolerate mention of Talos in his presence. He despises the very name of Tiber Septim."
"Let him say what he pleases," Torgrim stated. "Loyal subjects of the Empire have always worshiped Talos, despite what anyone might say."
Eirik laughed. "I cannot believe this. You mean to tell me that Crixus actually let you pray and worship Talos in his presence? And he never gave you shite for it?"
"Do you see?" Crixus said with a triumphant air. "You don't know me." He patted Eirik's shoulder condescendingly, but Eirik brushed his hand away. With a scowl, Crixus turned away towards Shaddar and his expression lightened. "Are we pushing off soon, captain?"
"Straight away, my friend," Shaddar replied. "There is a strong west wind out of High Rock, we should be able to ride it all the way to the northern coast of Vvardenfell."
"Make it so," Crixus said.
Suddenly there was a loud commotion heard and out from the hull came Lydia, running past two sailors with seemingly reckless abandon and coming to a skidding halt on the icy cold before Eirik. The breath was steaming from out of her lips and she had a look of panic on her face.
"There's...a giant!" she gasped. "Below deck!"
"A what?" Eirik asked.
"A giant!" she exclaimed.
"It's nothing," Crixus stated. "Don't worry, that's harmless."
Eirik turned just as large Gorak made his way down into the lower decks of the ship. Eirik was about to say something when there was heard a shout from one of the crew and the lines were being untied from the dock. Swiftly, Eirik turned back to the shore where he saw Mjoll standing there, looking after him. Swiftly the ship began to cast off and the gulf between the hull of the ship and the dock began to grow larger. He walked towards the deck and gazed after her, waving with his hand until she was lost from sight. For a while he kept gazing into the direction of the Dawnstar docks, illuminated by the clear light of day, until they passed the outer docks and all sight of the city was lost.
"Missing her already, I see," Crixus said, walking up to Eirik's right-hand side. "I'm surprised she didn't come with us."
"She has business in Dawnstar," Eirik replied, gazing back at the land.
"Still, I wouldn't mind it that much," said Crixus. "A man's best friend is his freedom."
"You know," Eirik said, turning to Crixus. "I never asked for your presence, or to hear anything you have to say, especially now that I..."
"I know," Crixus interrupted. "I put myself here for two reasons: one is that an assertive man always gets what he seeks."
"And the second?"
"'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' says the old proverb," Crixus continued. "Now I wouldn't stand too close to the edge if I were you. You'd probably end up sea-sick and we don't need that now, do we?"
"I've been to sea before," Eirik commented.
"But it looks like there might be storms ahead," Crixus stated.
"I can clear the skies, if a few storm-clouds scare you," Eirik retorted.
"A storm doesn't scare me. Not half as much as your housecarl was scared by Eld."
"Who?"
"Eld the giantess," Crixus said. "She's the one that Gorak tamed. Possibly his proudest moment, and I've seen him proudly wear the remains of the shattered skulls of his enemies."
Eirik said nothing yet, musing on the possibility of domesticated giants. Legends said that Ysgramor had a giant as an adviser and, if he recalled properly, one of the Skaal in Solstheim said something about their last leader being a giant.
"I should like to meet this Eld," Eirik stated.
"You will, eventually," Crixus replied. "Just as long as you keep a respectable distance. I've seen how you and Lydia treat that Snow Elf."
"No thanks for bringing her to you, I see," Eirik mused aloud.
"I would have collected her in time," Crixus repeated. "All you did was save me the trouble of going to get her, but I still have to send someone to Markarth, or don't you remember what Farengar said? That Dwemer specialist in Markarth who knows the lost language of the Falmer."
"Yes?" Eirik asked.
"She was speaking an elvish language I've never heard before," Crixus stated. "That's why I sent for Calcelmo from Markarth. He might be able to decipher something of what she was speaking."
"How do you know it's a she?" Eirik asked.
"How do you not?" Crixus replied.
Eirik did not respond but went below deck after Lydia to see what had gotten her surprised, while Crixus followed on behind him. They followed Lydia into a small hold that, like the last time Eirik was on the Red Dog, looked like nothing more than a cargo hold with a few blankets thrown in for comfort. Lydia was preparing for herself a bed on the floor.
"I don't understand," Eirik said. "Where's the giant?"
"Down the hall, fifth door on the right," Lydia replied. "But I'm not going anywhere near it, my thane. I've seen what giants can do to a man. They grind bones to fine meal with their bare hands and could with a single swing of their clubs send a man from the seven thousandth step of High Hrothgar all the way to the western watchtower of Whiterun."
"Suit yourself," Crixus said to Lydia, then turned to Eirik. "If you two decide to fuck, at least lock the door."
"Can I kill him now, my thane?" Lydia asked.
"She's right, though," Eirik said, turning to Crixus. "Get out."
"I'll leave for now," Crixus scoffed. "But you and I, we need to talk."
"About what?"
"You'll find out when I tell you."
Crixus turned about and left the two of them in the cramped cargo hold, spreading blankets upon the floors.
"The nerve of him!" Eirik groaned.
"I know," Lydia replied. "Sometimes I wonder why you put up with him. You know, despite what Mjoll said, he's usually more trouble than he is worth."
"I don't know," Eirik sighed. "Part of me believes what Mjoll said might be true."
"What, about you and him having some greater purpose together?" Lydia asked, then scoffed. "I don't see it, unless the Nine want us to suffer."
"Us?" Eirik asked.
"You're not the only one who suffers from his presence, my thane," Lydia replied.
The rest of the day was more or less uneventful onboard the Red Dog. Eirik saw no more of Crixus, though he had said that he wanted to speak to him later. They removed most of their armor but still wore their cloaks and winter clothes, as the winds from the north and west were still very cold far out to sea with no mountains to block them. They ate little of their rations and drank no ale or mead, as there was no water on the ship and they had to last for the voyage of a day or two to Solstheim without it. Around the coming of evening, Lydia went walking down the halls of the ship to learn what she could from the other sailors while Eirik remained in their room and sharpened his great-sword with a stone. While he was doing this, there came a knock at the door.
"Come in," he said.
To his surprise, in walked Crixus, dressed in the black gear he wore when he had met him on the road from Dawnstar.
"I said we needed to talk," Crixus stated. "Well, now's as good a time as any."
"Fine, let's talk," Eirik said stoically. "But about what, hmm?"
"First of all," Crixus began. "You need to watch that attitude of yours. All the crew are loyal to Shaddar and will jump if I tell them to jump, also I have Torgrim, and Gorak and Eld, who could crush you with their bare hands. You're in no condition to be giving me any of your Nordic lip, is that understood?"
"Aye," Eirik grumbled.
"Now, here's what you need to know," Crixus continued. "When we get back to Skyrim, you're dead the moment we land. Obviously we're not going to drop you off at Windhelm, and if you show your face in Solitude again, doubtless you will be killed. You won't be able to return to any of the eastern holds since they've thrown off the tyrant Ulfric's yoke and have returned to their true masters, to say nothing of those performing the Black Sacrament on you. Of course, were you to join the Legion..."
"I won't betray my homeland," Eirik replied.
"Your 'homeland' is the property of the Empire," Crixus retorted. "Your people have only one prerogative, and that is to obey the laws of the Empire and if that means shutting up about Talos and obeying the White-Gold Concordant, then that is what you must do."
"Talos founded this empire of yours," Eirik stated. "How can you turn your back on him?"
"Talos was scum," Crixus replied. "A liar and a back-stabbing traitor, whose legend, like all of your Nordic heroes, was based on lies and fabrications. The Nordic blood of Tiber Septim had long since been cleansed from the Imperial blood-line by the time Martin was born, and the Medes had not even a drop of Nordic blood in their veins. They were the rightful heirs of the Empire, and it is their Empire, not the one of Tiber Septim, that I serve."
"Titus Mede is dead," Eirik said. "So you have nothing to serve anymore. And what do you mean, all of my heroes' legends are based on lies?"
"In between assignments with myself and you," Crixus continued. "Marcurio has been moonlighting as an apprentice at the College of Winterhold. One of the projects which they have undertaken has been the excavation of Saarthal, one of the oldest cities in your realm."
"I know the stories of the Night of Tears," Eirik said grimly.
"But what you may not have known," Crixus replied, a smug smile on his face. "Is that the bards and historians of your people have been feeding you lies for the past four thousand years."
"What?" Eirik asked.
"It's true," Crixus nodded. "Buried under snow and ice in Saarthal is the truth of the so-called 'Night of Tears'."
"And what is 'the truth?'" Eirik asked.
"First, answer me this," Crixus replied. "Why did the Snow Elves attack Saarthal?"
"They wanted to eradicate the Atmorans," Eirik answered easily. "We were the first men on Tamriel and they hated us."
"Wrong!" Crixus exclaimed. "See how arrogant you people are? The Atmorans were not the first humans on Tamriel: there is documented evidence that humans and elves co-existed peacefully before the arrival of you blood-thirsty Nords. So answer my question: why did the Snow Elves attack Saarthal?"
"They were afraid of us," Eirik said with a hint of pride. "They knew we would become too powerful for them."
"Wrong again," Crixus stated happily. "You really need to read more often, friend."
"Very well, all-knowing one," Eirik retorted sarcastically. "Why did the Snow Elves attack Saarthal?"
"I can't tell you," Crixus said cryptically. "But I can tell you why they didn't attack."
"Go on."
"They did not attack Saarthal," Crixus began. "For the sake of exterminating the Atmorans. That is a myth that your people have been propagating for centuries to justify your bigotry for anything that isn't Nordic. You don't have to take my word for it: there was a book, Heseph Chirinis' Imperial Report on Saarthal which tells the true story, published several years ago, or you can look at Marcurio's notes in the library of the College of Winterhold, or you can even go to Saarthal and see for yourself."
"See just what?"
"The city ruins," Crixus stated. "It's been preserved damn well for a four thousand year old city."
"That's just the strength of Atmoran stone-masonry," Eirik replied proudly.
"That's bullshit is what it is," Crixus retorted. "Your legends say that the Elves attacked at night and slaughtered all the Nords, with only Ysgramor and his sons running back home in cowardice like three little whipped dogs."
"That will be enough of that, now," Eirik said sternly.
"The evidence says otherwise," Crixus replied haughtily, a smile of victory on his face. "The Elves didn't destroy key targets, they didn't even go after the defenders. They weren't after a slaughter, an extermination of your people, they were after something else. Like I've always said: your 'Night of Tears' was more of a stern ultimatum from the Snow Elves, telling Ysgramor and his people to leave and never return, and just like you pride-hurt Nords, he came back with an army and lied about the people who died. I'll bet he even sank his own ships with his own people onboard just to make it seem as though only him and his two sons came back."
"Get out!" Eirik shouted, rising to his feet. "This is the last straw! You've insulted my ancestors for too long, and now you insult the honor of the Companions!"
"Insulting the honor of the Companions?" Crixus laughed. "You're a pathetic band of mercenaries, sell-swords and werewolves: you have no honor."
"Get out of my room!" Eirik retorted. "And I never want to see you in Whiterun ever again."
"What are you going to do, kill me?" Crixus mocked.
"I'll have you banished from Jorrvaskr for life!" Eirik retorted. "I'm Harbinger of the Companions, I will see to it that you never set foot under our hall ever again. I don't care if Skjor knew you or if Kodlak knew you, this insult will not be tolerated!"
"Like I care about any pathetic Nordic ban," Crixus retorted. "I'm a law-abiding son of the Empire, I'll go where I please."
"Get out, now!" Eirik shouted. "You didn't come here to talk, you came here to mock me again! Is that it? Taunt me into a rage and then have an excuse to kill me on-board your ship of arse-kissing loyalists? I knew this was a trap, I knew it!"
"Are you fucking stupid?" Crixus shouted. "Shaddar's no loyalist, neither is his crew nor anyone else in Hammerfell. That's the problem with you ignorant Nords! The Dominion will have all our asses, yours too, because you people can't just bend your knees to just Imperial law like you should! Can't you see that? Don't you know anything about the Great War?"
"I know about the war," Eirik replied. "And while I know that your Titus Mede beat the Elves, he capitulated to them, agreeing to everything they demanded prior to starting the war. Your beloved Medes failed the Empire! Everyone who gave their lives to defend your precious Empire in the war died for nothing! The Dominion got what they wanted, didn't they?"
At this, Crixus suddenly punched Eirik in the face. The blow was strong, but Eirik did not crumble to the ground. Instead he staggered against the wall and clung to it to keep from falling. He slowly rose to his feet, keeping his eyes on Crixus for another blow.
"Don't you dare insult the Legion!" Crixus retorted. "Or the Medan dynasty! They did more for Tamriel than your precious Tiber Septim ever did!"
"They sold us out to the Dominion," Eirik said, rubbing blood off of his lip where he had bit down when the blow struck him. "They gave them everything they wanted: the loss of an Aldmeri host or a few legions was meaningless. The Dominion won in the end, and all you're doing is fighting for the Dominion, not for the Empire."
"The Empire didn't abandon its people!" Crixus said angrily, though Eirik could see there was disbelief in his eyes. "...they never have."
"Or have they?" Eirik asked. "You know something, don't you? Something you're not telling me."
"Look, what I know that I don't tell you..." Crixus began, but Eirik cut him off.
"So tell me already!" Eirik retorted. "Unless you actually believe all your talk of elven privilege and their entitlement to Tamriel because they once ruled it, you know as well as I do that they're a threat to us all. The war did nothing but give the Dominion what they wanted at the cost of lives, Nord, Imperial and Breton. You say that Hammerfell isn't loyal anymore? Well, why not if the Empire allowed the White-Gold Concordant to permit the annex of Redguard lands? The Dominion knew what they were doing when they made that part of the pact and now the Empire is suffering for it."
"Your point being?"
"Instead of fighting," Eirik said. "The Empire and Skyrim should be working together against the Dominion. We're not the enemy, the Dominion is."
"Peace?" Crixus scoffed. "The only peace the Empire will be satisfied with is one that sees Ulfric Stormcloak dead and Talos worship rightfully banned."
"Once again, more lives lost for your blood-lust!"
"My blood-lust?" Crixus retorted. "How dare you say I'm on the same level as you drunken Nordic scum! I am a servant of the Empire and the Empire wants order! It is you ignorant Nords with your history of lies and betrayal who only want blood-shed and carnage!"
"What next, we should be welcoming the Dominion into Tamriel as friends?" Eirik asked.
"There's no point talking to you," Crixus said, throwing his hands up in dismay as he turned and walked away. But Eirik was not done with him as he stepped out of the room and called after him.
"Just who's side are you on, anyway?"
Crixus halted in the hallway, then slowly turned around, a look of anger in his eyes at the question.
"What did you say?"
"Who's side are you on?" Eirik repeated. "If you want to be for the Empire, then help strengthen the Empire."
"I am for the Empire!" Crixus retorted. "It's you who's not!"
"I'm for my people!" Eirik stated. "You? You fight to defend a law, an ordinance on paper written by elvish hands. Your Empire is dead, a shell of what it once was, and all you're doing is helping the ones you claim to hate. So answer my question now: who's side are you on?"
Crixus did not answer, but gave Eirik a look of profound disgust as he slowly walked away. He did not turn his back to the Nord until he had rounded the corner of the hallway, after which Eirik had already returned to the cargo hold to attend to his stinging lip. Moments later Lydia came running down the hall.
"My thane, is everything alright?" she asked. "I thought I heard you yelling. Are you bleeding?"
"I'm fine," Eirik sighed. "It's just Crixus being his usual charming self."
"I think I'm getting sick of his usual charming self," Lydia said, sitting down next to Eirik. "I really want to just get to Solstheim and be rid of him, if only for a while to walk around the island for a while. Tell me, what's it like?"
"What what's like?" Eirik asked.
"Solstheim," she returned. "You've been there before, I haven't."
"There's not much to tell, though," Eirik replied. "Half of the island is covered in ash: two hundred years worth of ash. There aren't many settlements on the island that I know of, just Raven Rock and the village of the Skaal. Doubtless we'll land in Raven Rock first: it's a...well, they're houses, I suppose, but they're all made of some black material like stone and underground, or under-ash."
"I see," Lydia returned. "And what about the Skaal?"
"They're Nords, but they worship the All-Maker," Eirik said. "A bit secretive, so I've heard, but they seemed very friendly when we arrived there. That's where we're going."
(AN: Honestly, I have no time to write and no internet connection at home, and with no means of recording music either, I just don't feel like doing anything, since it all comes to nothing [no music to record and any chapter update is futile since no reviews].)
(Although, I do have something of a point with this part of the story, which is based on what we see in the Dragonborn DLC. Also, an interesting fact: on my first play-through I got to see this part of the story which I will detail, but on my second play-through, while cleansing the last of the Earth Stones, Fanari Strong-Voice, the chieftain of the Skaal, accidentally died while fighting the lurker. Of course, with the death of Storn, that means Frea is the only one leading the Skaal and, by all accounts, life isn't looking up for them.)
(Okay, can someone please review and answer this question for me: what the fuck is C0DA? [ALERT! SPOILERS FOLLOW!] It's like some comic by Michael Kirkbride but it makes no sense! Dunmer living on one of the moons, numidium destroying Nirn, television set heads, Akatosh as an inept worm with tiny wings, Talos the liar canon? I mean come on, I'm sick of Dunmer superiority! So they get to flee the earth and watch while everyone dies from the Numidium? Everything you know is wrong and the Dunmer are gods even though they're racist dicks [even while living in Tomorrowind on the moon, they still keep Khajiit as slaves]? You know what, call me racist if you want, but I don't feel Ulfric Stormcloak has given the Dunmer what they deserve, especially if this is now going to be canon. I beg the Aedra, the Daedra, the Aesir, the Et'Ada, Sithis, Shor, the All-Maker, the Valar and God Himself that this is NOT, nor will ever be, canon!)