General Tullius had an interesting gaze. It seemed kind enough, but Arenar could see the man's eyes scan his entire outfit, his blades, his armor, the way he stood… he was a warrior through and through. "I trust you didn't just wander in here by accident," he said.

Arenar shook his head. "I am here to represent Jarl Balgruuf the Greater as his thane."

The woman next to the general smiled. "So he's seen what way is right, has he?"

"Rikke!" Tullius hissed. "What is his message?" he asked more cordially.

"Whiterun is pledging itself to the Imperial Legion. Due to the current climate around the city, he is requesting your men be placed en route at the nearest opportunity. He fears the Stormcloaks are massing troops in preparation of an attack."

Tullius cracked a smile. "Actually, we were just discussing the high probability of that occurring. You may return to the Jarl with the reply that we will be sending a detachment later today and they should be arriving shortly."

Arenar nodded and turned, about to leave the castle. Hearing footsteps behind him he turned to see Rikke standing outside of the war room. "You are Arenar Roscius, yes?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "It is an honor that you are joining the Imperials, Dragonborn. I look forward to seeing your work."

Arenar simply nodded and left for the stables.

Arenar and Dralasa rode quickly. Whiterun, fading into nothing as they went. Dull but durable Dragonbone armor laid on Arenar's body and a gleaming steel axe was at his side. The loud thudding of marching steps brought their attention to the mountainside. As they rode a column of soldiers wearing the blue of the Stormcloak rebellion were entering a camp.

"Think we should hurry?" Arenar asked. Dralasa nodded and cracked her horse's reins. They raced past Valtheim Towers, seeing more Stormcloaks dotting the bridge between the two towers. As they rode past Mixwater stables, Arenar signaled to Dralasa and they both dismounted to let their horses rest and drink from the river.

Dralasa started up a small cooking fire and the two had a simple meal of bread and roasted goat legs. As they finished cleaning up, Dralasa cocked her head and pointed to the road. "Someone's coming," she whispered. Soon, Arenar could see what she was pointing out, a lone Stormcloak soldier was running down the road and was about to cross the bridge.

"Probably a runner," Arenar said, taking out his bow.

"Sure you want the shot?" she asked. "I am the better of the two of us."

"How else am I going to get better?" he said. He took out a glass arrow and aimed, letting his string loose as the man started to cross. The bolt flew through the air and hit the man square in the chest. He fell back several feet and didn't stand up.

Dralasa nodded in approval. "I'll get rid of the body. I'll meet up with you later."

Arenar mounted his horse and continued the ride, hardly stopping until he reached the stables of Windhelm. The guards gave him an inquisitive look and three began to follow him as he entered the city. Bone armor, especially as tough looking as a dragon's was more than enough to provoke worry.

Arenar looked back at them and took off his helmet. All three stopped, recognizing him. "Dragonborn!" one said.

He only nodded and kept walking, finding his way to the Palace of Kings. He ignored the man in Stormcloak officer armor and the steward, calling out to Ulfric, "Ulfric Stormcloak!" The jarl looked up, giving Arenar and his armor a scrutinizing stare.

"What is it? If you've come to join the Stormcloaks, speak to Galmar."

"I present to you Jarl Balrgruff's axe." With a quick bit of shuffling, he procured the axe and held it out to Ulfric.

The man sighed. "He is an honorable man, but a traitor all the same. I look forward to facing him in battle. Return to your Jarl, Dragonborn. You picked the wrong side of destiny."

Arenar sheathed the axe, not surprised Uflric recognized him, everyone seemed to be able to as of late. He left the city, seeing Dralasa just pull into the stables. "It's done?" she asked and he nodded. Her eyes darted to the city for a moment and she grimaced. "More soldiers." Arenar looked back, seeing a column of Stormcloaks begin to march out of the gates.

"Ten Septims say they're heading to Whiterun," he muttered, mounting his steed once again. "Let's go." They rode nonstop, all the way to Dragonsreach. Arenar climbed the steps and entered the hall, calling out ", He returned the axe. He marches to Whiterun!"

The next morning, Whiterun was brimming with soldiers. Guards and Imperials patrolled the streets and the streets were empty, the villagers knowing what was to happen. Outside, hordes of Stormcloaks stood ready, catapults arranged in various positions. Anyone could see that the Empire was outnumbered by at least three to one, most likely more. The soldiers, as brave as they were, were filled with dread at the sight of the large force.

At the gate stood Rikke and the Circle, minus the Harbinger. "I must thank you once again for assisting us," Rikke said.

To that they nodded. "Whiterun is our home as well, we would not see it abandoned," Vilkas said.

"I could do with him helping though."

Aela shrugged. "He seems to find his way into things. I wouldn't worry about it."

All at once then, there was a loud cry followed by hundreds of others. The horde shifted and broke into a run, all heading for the gate. "Alright men! We stop them here!" Rikke cried.

Aela and the other archers began letting shots loose into the enemy, men crying out as they her hit and then fell and then trampled by their own men. It was not enough though, soon they were at the barricade, smashing the wooden stakes with their axes and warhammers. Then though, there were anguished cries in the back of the army and a single voice rising above the others.

Arenar peered out from a rock near the secret exit of the Underforge, his horse already waiting. "Alright, let's go Allie." He mounted her and pull out his swords, clearing his throat. He cracked the reins and sped to the back of the lines, his eyes catching the catapults, all arranged in a line. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" Fire leapt from his mouth and washed over the catapults and their operators unexpectedly, crying out in pain. He leapt from Allie and danced nimbly about them, cutting through their armor easily.

Satisfied, he climbed aboard Allie again and sped into the rear of their lines, all of the soldiers focused on Whiterun proper. He jumped off again. "TIID KLO UL!" Time slowed down and his swords went much faster, slicing through the men before they could even realize they were being flanked. As the Shout began to fade, he called out again and again. "SU GRAH DUN!" "FAAS RU MAAR!" "ZUN HAAL VIIK!"

The battle became complete chaos. The backlines were being decimated; the front was worried about the back... From the main walls of Whiterun, more soldiers appeared, unleashing arrows into the center of the mob. The officers tried focusing their men, their shouts missed over the cries of confusion and anger and the clash of blades on armor. The Stormcloak armor, as useful as it was, was not well designed. It was light but was less effective than the Imperial leather. It certainly proved useless against Skyforge weaponry.

The battle was a rout, the Dragonborn's Shouts alone enough to break mens' spirits. The Stormcloaks broke and ran, arrows stopping many from ever escaping. Arenar let them run, smiling at the men stationed on the walls. One of the men called to him, shouting "All hail the Dragonborn!" The chorus grew louder and louder, gaining voices rapidly. He just smiled and walked to them. This was over, but he still needed Dragonsreach.

Author's Notes: Wait! I still function!

So yeah, things are obviously hectic here. Yay college. No ETA on the next chapter, but I'm working on it. Probably won't be out till December. A friend is really trying to get me to do NaNoWriMo so that leaves no time for this. So, what happens happens. Yay.