I leave the city before first light again, following the road to the chorus of the night-time insects once more. When I reach the crossroads near the Honningbrew Meadery, I instead turn up towards Riverwood – I think it's time to bite the arrow and go pay my respects at Helgen. I've been meaning to do it for a while now – since I left Blackreach, actually, I think – so if I'm going to do it I should just do it.

Passing a man murmuring something about the Legion, I enter the Sleeping Giant and slip down the stairs into the secret room, leaving the interesting things I'd found in the chest I've taken as my own. Glancing through my mementos, I notice that I have more books, notes and journals in there than I do anything else – and even then most of those are contracts for my death signed by Astrid.

I let the lid slam shut behind me as I climb back up the stairs and slide the wardrobe back shut again – once Serana is done down there, of course. Leaving the inn, I take in a deep breath of the fresh morning air and continue on up the road towards the ruined mountain town.

We're nearing the Guardian Stones when a pair of wolves leap out at me, but I barely have enough time to pull out my warhammer before my little vampire friend has skewered them both on icicles. As we finally reach Helgen, I pause – something doesn't feel right.

I draw my bow. I know it is probably just my being nervous because of the memories of what happened last time I was here, but I can't quite shake it off. A twig snaps behind me, and I spin around, bow drawn to see a bandit trying to sneak up on us.

Relieved that I was right after all, I shoot the bandit dead, along with his less sneaky companion, then drag open the great northern gates into the town.

Despite the current occupying force of bandits – one of which I can see wandering around the courtyard outside the fort – no repair works have been done. Oh, the fires are out, sure, but none of the buildings' roofs are intact, except for the fort, and the roads are still full of the rubble of toppled walls. The robbers anger me, so I sneak attack the wandering bandit, leaving my arrow in his corpse where he falls. I can see no others, so I sit for a moment on the shattered wall of a house and think, trying my hardest to remember the faces of the people I'd seen in my brief time in the town. I wonder if the child, Haming, survived? And what about Hadvar? He may have been Imperial, but death-by-dragon…

The sun is nearing its zenith when I rise from the rubble and push open the eastern gate to access the pass beyond. As we trot along the road, snow starting to swirl around us, I hear somewhere off in the rocky woodland to our left, the sound of a smith's hammer slamming against an anvil. I'm so busy trying to peer through the trees and the weather that I nearly collide with the horse of a mounted hunter, who glares at me briefly before returning her concentration to the path ahead.

The road winds its way through a low point in the mountains, and so I don't spot the Thalmor with their prisoner until we round the corner mere meters ahead of them. Unluckily, the snow is not so thick that I can't see their pompous, egotistical faces. It gladdens the vindictive side of me though when I spot their black robes leader shiver in the cold. Which reminds me to keep moving or I'll start feeling the cold air too.

Of course, the snow stops once we leave the pass, revealing, through a small gap in the golden-leafed trees, a small shack which attracts my curiosity. It is open to the elements, mostly – no doors, and several gaps in the wooden slats of the roof and walls – and contains several alchemical ingredients. As I gather these, intending to use them at the alchemy lab I can see outside through the walls, I notice a jar on the shelf containing a single golden butterfly. It is a beautiful thing to watch, flittering around inside the jar, and it seems to be doing ok in there, so I take the jar and carefully tuck it into a secure part of my bag.

I turn towards the backdoor, and am about to pass through when I notice a journal sat on the bedside cabinet.

Coming to this area was a brilliant decision! Writes the owner of the little book. The local flora seem to have many useful properties that I've been able to utilise into new potions! Outside, the rich soil has allowed the cuttings I've collected to grow into fine and bountiful plants! This afternoon, I think I will journey out for more mushrooms, as my current supply is beginning to dwindle. On a personal note, I have moved my alchemy work outside the shack. I find the midday air is a boon to my health, as well as inspirational to my work." It seems that the poor fellow never came back from his gathering trip – the ramshackle little hut seems quite abandoned.

Gathering what ingredients I can from the little plants outside, I create what potions I can, discovering several new recipes as I go. The results go into my bag, along with the journal and the excess ingredients, and I go to return to the road when I am stopped by a pair of wolves. The poor creatures don't stand a chance against me and my vampire companion, and I am soon fighting a bear further down the road to Riften. This beast lasts a little longer than the wolves did, but with Serana's magical aid it too is quickly decorating the environment.

Passing a courier at the start of the trail to the Orc camp – I still haven't found them that Daedra heart, have I? – I continue towards the distant mossy walls of the city, encountering a Redguard who calls me a milk-drinker as we jog along. Doesn't anyone know any other insults around here? I think that's the third time this week I've been accused of drinking too much milk.

Finding the other road beyond the city, we pass another, rather lost looking courier, but instead of asking us for directions he merely proclaims that he has 'no time to chat'; that he has 'important deliveries to make'. Trust a man to stay unnecessarily lost.

Through the canyon, reaching the fortifications around dusk, we pass through the gate and into the fort. Dexion can wait – he's already in the entry hall, but he must need rest – so I instead head towards one of the bunks near the back of the fort. As I walk past one of the newer recruits, I overhear one of them saying something about Gunmar being an excellent smithing teacher. I could do with a little extra expertise in weapon and armour care, so I abandon the idea of sleep for now and hunt out Gunmar instead. I find him in the dining hall.

"Ah, there you are!" Seems he wanted to talk to me too. "If you're putting yourself in harm's way, you'd best be prepared. Take these." The rugged Nord hands me a full set of Dawnguard armour. I'll put it on in the morning – I've been wanting a change from the Blades armour for a while, but found nothing I thought suitable.

"I've heard you train in smithing. Will you train me?" I ask him, offering a large bag of gold in exchange.

"Sure." He leads me to a smithy set up in one of the large cave areas at the far back of the fort, and we spend the next couple of hours going through various smithing techniques, starting out simple and getting more complicated as I get the hang of handling the hammer and trimming leather.

"Thanks." I say when we finish, wiping my sweaty brow on an offcut of a wolf-skin – the furred side, of course.

"Take care of yourself." He responds, and I seek out one of the cots, doffing my armour and slumping on the furs with pleasure.