Ulfric was awoken by the sound of a twig snapping. He slowly blinked himself into lucidity, noting that Frea slept soundly in the bedroll beside him. Their campfire had long since died into ashes. The forests of Falkreath Hold were a strategically advantageous place to travel unnoticed, but they also left one very open to ambush.
He rolled to his feet, leaving Frea to her dreams. The sound of her waking would alert their enemy he had been noticed, and Ulfric worked better alone anyway. Only Galmar had ever meshed well with him in a team. And Galmar is dead now, the fallen Stormlord thought as he slipped into the darkness.
He waited, listening for signs of movement. Ulfric recalled the hunting trips of his early childhood, and the patience required to apprehend one of the elusive elk of Eastmarch. Never had much patience for patience. Maybe that was part of the reason he was sent to the Greybeards. Another twig snapped, and Ulfric advanced quickly.
"I would not move if I were you." Ulfric held his sword to the man's back, the point finding solid purchase in the oiled leathers. The only noise in the forest was the slow breathing of the two warriors, and the gentle rustle of wind through leaves. "What is your business lurking beside my camp, friend?"
"I mean no harm to you and yours," the man replied gruffly, raising his hands. "I'm trackin' a wanted man through these woods. Smelled the campfire, thought it might be who I was lookin' for."
Then the Thalmor must know I live, after all this time. "Who is this criminal you seek so aggressively?" He wanted to confirm his suspicions before sending the man to Sovngarde.
"A Dark Elf fella in that shell armor they wear, and some little girl travelling with him." The man chuckled. "They want the girl alive, but I figure I'll have some fun with her and tell 'em the elf cut her loose before I got 'em."
A Dark Elf and a girl. The bounty hunter could only being referring to Teldryn Sero and Runa Fair-Shield, the partner and child of Jax Amaton respectively. Ulfric didn't know how he felt about the fact they still lived. He had only heard of Teldryn through occasional talk in Ivarstead, but he knew any friend of Jax was surely an enemy to the exiled leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion. Still, they had never wronged him. Good luck, Teldryn, and let's hope we never have to meet.
"Ulfric?" Frea's voice called out into the forest, and Ulfric was momentarily distracted. The bounty hunter spun and delivered a powerful right hook to Ulfric's face, sending him reeling to the forest ground, his sword falling away. Ten years ago, Ulfric would have barely flinched at the blow. Defeated by a common vagabond. How demeaning. The sharp steel of a dagger pressed into his unprotected throat.
"You call out to your friend, that pretty armor of yours gonna get real messy," the hunter whispered to Ulfric, his breath reeking. Frea's voice called out again, and then again farther away. They waited several minutes more before the Skaal's footsteps faded entirely from earshot, along with her calls.
The hunter's face was gruesome and satisfied in the dim moonlight. Ulfric knew he could kill this man with a single phrase if he wished, but the dagger at his throat was a definite deterrence. Besides, the sound of his Shout would alert anyone within a three-mile radius of his location, including Frea. The longer she went without knowing his true role in Skyrim, the better.
"All right then, up with ya." The dagger didn't leave his throat as the hunter circled around to face Ulfric's back. His wrists throbbed with pain when the vagabond tied a rope tightly around them. "I can tell you're a real clever one, so I'm not taking chances. You move where I push you, and you keep all your important parts on the inside."
Ulfric staggered forward a step at a time, the dagger a painful constant against his windpipe. His captor continued to talk in a low voice, muttering of bounties and luck gone bad. Just my good fortune I am taken prisoner by the most mouthy bandit in Tamriel.
"I'll bet that armor will fetch a good price on the black market." The hunter said, running his free hand over Ulfric's pauldron. "What is it, ebony or somethin?" I'm surprised a man of this magnitude can recognize ebony armor. Maybe my captor is more than he seems. In any case, Ulfric couldn't ask any questions. The cold steel of the dagger was an effective conversation stifler.
"No one crosses Belyon and gets away with it, let me tell you that." His captor's rancid breath said into his ear. Belyon, then. It is good to know the name of the man you put to death. I will not soon forget yours. Ulfric was tempted to use the Become Ethereal shout just to see the look on Belyon's face before he met his doom. But this man was unsteady and overeager. The slightest excitement on Ulfric's part could mean his demise, and he did not come all this way in life to die in a forest at the hands of someone who was still nursing when the Dominion sacked the White-Gold Tower.
I play along, for now. I can only hope Frea will track us down before I'm forced to act regardless of the consequences. The longer they spent in Falkreath, the more time the Thalmor and Merkoorzaam had to carry out their plans. Somehow, Ulfric couldn't see himself making it to Sky Ruler Temple in the hands of Belyon the Bandit.
They walked for hours, in slow, stilted fashion. Whatever judgement Ulfric could have passed about Belyon's hygiene and moral compass, the man never let the dagger waver from his throat. This isn't a bandit who loses his prisoners. The sun was breaking over the horizon when a small building finally came into view.
"I've been thinkin' the grey skin and his girl ain't worth the trouble anymore," Belyon muttered, close behind him. "Some of the other hunters the elves sent after them, scariest folks I ever seen. A lizard taller than any High Elf I've ever seen, and as built as an Orc's mother. Don't want to get in the way of something like that."
If Belyon met personally with Thalmor, he might have information I could use. Ulfric would have to take him alive if possible. They reached the door to the small building when Belyon halted. The dagger left Ulfric's neck for only a second, and then a blindfold was around his eyes.
He felt the bandit's hot breath in his face. "Listen here, I don't want any trouble when we go inside Pinewatch proper. There's a lot of people like me in there, and not a lot of people like-" The sound of an arrow impacting flesh interrupted Belyon. The bandit screamed in pain and Ulfric felt blood hit his face.
"I need him alive, Frea!" he yelled, hoping the Skaal was within earshot. He heard Belyon collapse moaning against the wooden door, but thankfully no more arrows followed. A moment passed before the blindfold left his eyes and his hands were freed from their bindings.
"Are you unharmed?" Frea asked him worriedly, her bow at the ready. Belyon breathed slowly on the ground, an arrow piercing his stomach and blood leaking from his mouth.
"I'm fine, but we need to move, now." He could already hear the signs of movement from within Pinewatch, no doubt Belyon's bandit companions coming to investigate. "Help me carry him. I believe he has knowledge of our common enemy."
The two Nord warriors effortlessly lifted the smaller man, quickly making their way up the hill. Ulfric almost dropped Belyon when he saw what waited over the crest. "By the All-Maker…" Frea gasped. "I did not believe it could be true."
Lakeview Manor lay before them, or at least what was left of it. Rubble and debris was scattered around for what seemed like miles, and the stone walls of the house had totally collapsed. The library tower lay on it's side, burnt books pouring out of it like some sort of grisly wound oozing pus. Dragonfire still burned brightly in places, and enormous craters dotted the landscape. No one could have survived all of this. Not even the Dragonborn.
He heard the door to Pinewatch opening behind them. "Hurry," he said to Frea, and they descended down to the ruins of the Dragonborn's estate. A fallen bookshelf provided temporary cover, but Ulfric could hear harsh voices coming their way. Belyon started to struggle, weakly calling out to the bandits.
"Quiet," Ulfric said to him, "or your friends will not find you in one piece." His eyes searched for an escape route out of the small wasteland. The voices were getting closer, and they could not hide behind a bookshelf forever.
"There," Frea whispered, pointing to a soot-covered hatch in the ground. A cellar. The pair grabbed Belyon and moved to the hatch as quietly as possible, angling their path so as to avoid being seen from anyone up the hill. Ulfric grabbed the metal handle and pulled with all of his strength, the joints in his arms popping from the strain. The hatch opened with a hollow creak. They slid Belyon down the ladder and closed the opening behind them with only seconds to spare.
Ulfric braced himself against a child's practice dummy, panting from the exertion. Shor's bones, I'm getting old. Frea looked around the cellar wondrously. "To keep a forge and workbench beneath his very home...I had no idea Jaxius was a man of such wealth." She wandered around the cellar, regarding each animal head and display stand with reverence.
He smiled grimly in response. "Saving the world tends to earn you a few gold now and then." Belyon lay panting against the wall, blood slowly pooling beneath him. You better not die before telling me what I need to know, milk drinker.
"Who were the elves that hired you?" Ulfric asked, nudging the bandit with his boot.
"Black robes, gold skin." Belyon wiped blood from his mouth with a trembling hand. "D'int give names." The Thalmor. That much I knew already.
"Where did you meet these elves?"
Belyon struggled for a bit before responding. "Camp near Rorikstead." He groaned in anguish. "Got prisoners there or somethin." Interesting.
There was one more thing he needed to know. "Did the elves say anything about what they're planning? Any mention of a next step?" If the Thalmor had a weakness, it was their overconfidence. They might not consider hiding an overheard conversation from a lowly bounty hunter.
The dying bandit had faded past the point of usefulness. "They were talkin' about Amaton, how he went," Belyon's words concerning the Dragonborn slurred as blood trickled from the corner. "Said he cried out for a girl in the end. Ain't that somethin, I said to myself. Ain't that somethin." Belyon's last utterings were followed by a final bloody cough, and then he breathed out one last time.
Ulfric felt Frea's hand on his shoulder. "He is gone, then?" she asked quietly. He nodded in response, feeling the weight of the past few hours pressing down on him. I have spent too much time in rooms with dead men for company.
"We can take a brief rest here," he said, pulling a dusty chair from a corner. "The bandit's friends will need a while to settle down." Frea picked up an old sheet and placed it over Belyon's body, saying some old words in a language he did not know. Must be a Skaal prayer of some sort.
He had almost dozed off when Frea's voice jolted him back into reality. "Ulfric, I found a book with your name on it." She was crouched near a bookshelf, discarded volumes sitting beside her. "I did not read it yet, do not fear." She tossed a small brown journal at him and turned back to her discoveries. Ulfric's blood ran cold when he read the neat elven handwriting on the cover. Thalmor Dossier: Ulfric Stormcloak.
The sound of Frea flipping through books and the cloying scent of Belyon's fresh corpse faded from Ulfric's mind. He turned the first page as if in a trance. He was assigned as an asset to the interrogator, who is now First Emissary Elenwen. Asset. The word burned in Ulfric's consciousness, taunting him like a torchbug just out of arm's reach. He was made to believe information obtained during his interrogation was crucial in the capture of the Imperial City (the city had in fact fallen before he had broken), and then allowed to escape. The full extent of his failure was beginning to dawn on Ulfric. His hands trembled as he turned the next page, dreading what followed but knowing he must continue.
After the war, contact was established and he has proven his worth as an asset. The so-called Markarth Incident was particularly valuable from the point of view of our strategic goals in Skyrim, although it resulted in Ulfric becoming generally uncooperative to direct contact. Proven his worth. Proven his worth. Images that were blocked out before rushed into Ulfric's memory, pictures of clandestine meetings in the dark alleys of Windhelm with cloaked figures wearing golden ears. He had followed their orders without question.
The Thalmor had controlled him, they had controlled all of it. His eyes ran down the page, more out of sheer willpower than desire to see the words. As long as the civil war proceeds in its current indecisive fashion, we should remain hands-off. The incident at Helgen is an example where an exception had to be made - obviously Ulfric's death would have dramatically increased the chance of an Imperial victory and thus harmed our overall position in Skyrim. A Stormcloak victory is also to be avoided, however, so even indirect aid to the Stormcloaks must be carefully managed. Ulfric hadn't been fighting for Skyrim's freedom, he had been playing into the Dominion's hands. They had wanted the war. All of the dead Stormcloaks and Imperials, all of the ruined families, it had all been for nothing. Galmar and Rikke had died for nothing. I'm so sorry, my friends.
The book fell from Ulfric's hands, and he rose shaking from his chair. Frea looked up, a frown creasing her brow.
"What troubles you, Ulfric?" Her eyes dropped to the discarded journal. "What did the book say?"
He said nothing to the Skaal, but turned to grab his sword from it's resting place next to Belyon's body. Ulfric gave Frea one last glance and then walked to the ladder, grabbing the bottom rung with steady hands. "You can not leave me!" She shouted behind him, but her words barely registered in his hearing. "I can not defeat the Golden One alone, Ulfric Stormcloak!" The name burned in Ulfric's ears like a curse as he climbed. I'm going to finish what I started, for Galmar and for the rest.
Author's Note: Please review if you want to see more! Hopefully something a bit light-hearted next chapter, for a change.