AN: As you will notice from this chapter and further chapters, I will be playing with the in-game storyline a bit. I will alter somewhat how quests are obtained, and I will definitely be altering the Civil War in-game experience. From the previous chapter you will have noticed that Deb, the modern-day Dragonborn-to-be insert, was NOT the person to tell Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon at Helgen, so already the in-game storyline is altered. This chapter should give a small hint as to what kind of alterations to the Civil War will happen in this story….
Chapter 13 – Mages Need Not Apply
"'When the Dragon-born ruler… loses his… th-throne… and the White Tower… falls…. When the Snow Tower… lays?'," I looked up at Ralof, who shook his head.
"'Lies'," he corrected me.
"…'lies' k…krant? What is 'krant'?"
Ralof thought about how to explain. He looked around the small house I was staying in and walked over to a shelf, grabbed several mugs, stood them in a sort of pyramid on the dining table, and then toppled them over. "Krant," he pointed at the mess of toppled mugs.
I guess that made sense. A toppled tower. "'When the Snow Tower lies toppled, king-less, bleeding… The World-Eater w-wakes, and the… Wheel turns… upon the Last Dragon-born'." I finally finished reading, aloud, the book that I had grabbed in the Helgen dungeons. I didn't really understand a lot of it, but Ralof told me the story was sort of a legend, not a book about mundane, easily-understood topics.
Ralof had sort of made it his job to help me speak better Norren and to teach me to read. Between that and helping out at the lumber mill, and spending some time with Faendal training with a bow and arrow, learning this language was practically all I did over the three months I had lived in River Wood. This was also how I learned the correct spelling of Thrynn's name.
Fucking Thrynn.
I also noticed that I had lost a considerable amount of weight, because I could finally wrap around my body the mage's robe that Ralof had given to me in that cave after the dragon attack. That, and my bra was getting a little loose. I noticed that none of the women here had any sort of fancy underwear, but rather used a sort of linen strip of fabric to keep their breasts from jiggling all over the place, and just wore a sort of small linen pant, like a boxer-brief as underwear. I decided to keep my bra for a little while longer until it was no longer wearable, but knew eventually I would have to cave in and begin to use a chest binding.
I liked how the mage's robe made me feel. The fabric was nice now that it had been washed, and it just felt right to wear it. I remembered what Ralof had said to me in the cave about the robe – it was "for the magic" – and I wondered if it was supposed to enhance whatever powers I had.
"I should probably go to Wind-Helm soon," Ralof said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Wind-Helm?"
"The biggest, oldest city in Skyrim," replied Ralof. "East of here. Ulfric is the Jarl there. I haven't heard anything from him; I need to go see if he made it back alive."
Ulfric. Lion-Man. He was with us at Helgen. Ralof had explained to me that he was part of Ulfric's personal guard. Ulfric had challenged the King of Sky-Rim, and the King had been killed. This should have made Ulfric King, but people said he had cheated when he killed the current King, and called him a murderer. The dead King's palace was far to the west, and Ulfric and his guard were travelling back east when they were ambushed by the Lokolten. When I was ambushed. Ralof blamed himself for not protesting more that I was not with them, that I was not a Storm-Cloak, but according to him it wouldn't have mattered much. The soldiers that attacked and confined us would not listen to Ralof when he first protested, and instead beat him for speaking up for me and another man who was obviously not a soldier. Ralof said that by the time he was loaded into the cart, I was unconscious, bound and gagged. Ulfric had ordered Ralof and the four other Storm-Cloaks to surrender, to not die foolishly that day. Ralof knew this was a mistake, but followed Ulfric's orders. Ulfric was then bound and gagged as I had been, and then a dragon saved our lives.
"I also need to check in with Galmar." Galmar was Ulfric's second-in-command, as Ralof had told me a while back. He was Ralof's commanding officer. "You should come with me," Ralof added.
"To see Ulfric?" I asked.
"Yes, and see the city. You can talk to Galmar, see about joining the Stormcloaks. They don't have any mages, I don't think…. But perhaps they'll make an exception. Besides, from Wind-Helm you can get a ride to the College."
Ralof was smiling at me. A hopeful smile that said, "Please come with me." I wasn't so sure I wanted to be traveling right now or any time in the future. I wasn't so sure I wanted to join in a war that wasn't really my war to fight. I was anything but an athlete, but I was, apparently, a mage, and I did need to go to this college everyone kept talking about.
"Alright, I leave with you," I smiled.
"Ha!" Ralof grinned and playfully slapped my shoulder. "Great. We can leave whenever you're ready. It will be cold there this time of year; I'll make sure to get you warm clothing."
. . . . . .
In order to get to Wind-Helm, Ralof and I had to walk north to a town called White-Run where a horse-drawn cart would take us all the way to the big city. The journey took three days. We had to camp the first night, but the second night we stayed in a small village. Before the sun set on the third day, we arrived at the stables outside of the big city. Ralof was very excited to introduce me to his comrades.
Ralof was right about the area being cold. I was shivering under my fur cloak, despite also being given fur clothing to wear. Generally I liked cold weather, but this was just ridiculous. I grabbed my large knapsack full of my other clothing and few belongings, and we set off into the city.
The guards of Wind-Helm were dressed exactly like Ralof was when I met him; they were all Storm-Cloaks. Ralof was not wearing his uniform now, though, but warmer civilian clothing.
Unlike River Wood, everything in Wind-Helm was built of stone. We passed many houses and other buildings until we finally came to the largest building in the city with two massive doors and multiple guards in front. This must have been the "king's house" that Ralof mentioned. A sort of palace, I guessed.
I was grateful for the warmth I found inside. We took off our fur cloaks and walked forward, passing an enormous banquet table. At the end of the long hall stood an oversized stone throne, and I wondered if all Jarls lived in places like this. I heard men's voices in a room to our left, and Ralof turned in that direction.
To say I was overwhelmed by the sight in the next room would be a complete understatement.
Standing before me and Ralof were three enormous men. One older man, with a bear-head headdress and an impressive grey-blonde beard, eyed me questioningly. Another man with reddish light-brown hair was dressed similarly but without the bear head; he was smiling. The men were even more massive than Ralof, which I would have thought humanly impossible were it not for me already meeting the third man. This man had strawberry blonde hair, was taller than the other two, and was wearing elaborate steel armor and a fur coat. I recognized this tall man as Ulfric, the Lion-Man. He was not looking at me.
"Ralof!" Ulfric approached my friend with a broad smile on his face. "Thank Talos you lived." The men clasped at one another's forearms and gave each other a brotherly hug. "No one had heard from you. The only other Stormcloaks I knew that made it out alive were Olga and Vilgun. Where have you been?"
"Riverwood. Hiding out, spending time with my sister, and helping my friend here, Deb," Ralof turned and smiled at me.
Ulfric studied me for a moment. "Ah, yes, the woman from the cart. Were you a horse tofur, too?"
"Horse? No…," I replied.
"She was just travelling east, as we were. Wrong place, wrong time," Ralof said, giving me an apologetic smile.
"Ralof said they… ambushed you," I struggled to remember the word he used to describe the attack. "I was walking north… and I heard whispers. I think I found their hide-out. I guess they did not like that." I worried about my accent, my pronunciation, my grammar. Ulfric and the man with light-brown hair didn't seem to pick up on anything strange, but the man dressed head-to-toe in a bear skin kept a rather disapproving look on his face.
"Where were you headed?" asked the man with light-brown hair. He had a very, very thick accent and I could barely understand him.
"Here," I replied. "And, after, Winter-Hold, to the college."
"She's a mage," Ralof said, plainly. "Needs training, though." I shot him a look. "What? It's true."
I knew it was.
"A mage, huh? What in Ommin are you doing here, then?" asked the Bear-Man.
"Galmar, please," Ulfric grumbled.
Apparently Bear-Man was Galmar, Ralof's commanding officer.
"She wants to join the fight, Galmar," Ralof said.
The three enormous men looked at me, questioningly. "A mage? In the Stormcloaks?" the man with light-brown hair asked in his thick accent. He looked over at Galmar and Ulfric, and shrugged.
"She's also been training with a bow and arrow," Ralof said.
Ulfric grumbled. "I don't have time for this. Galmar, Yrsarald, nylithen are your business." He turned to Ralof. "Ralof, come, I need to speak with you and Jorleif."
"Sure, Ulfric," Ralof replied. He turned to me and grasped my shoulder for a moment, willing me to be courageous and state my case.
I watched Ralof leave the way we came, and then turned back to Galmar and the other mountain of a man, whose name was something I doubt I could ever pronounce.
"Well, mage, how good are you with your arrows?" asked Galmar.
I shrugged. "I only hunt with them, but I am not very good if something moves," I answered honestly.
"Is there anything else you can do? Folhet? Armor fortilel?" asked the other man with the impossible name and accent.
I shook my head. I figured if I didn't understand what they asked me, I probably couldn't do it.
The two men exchanged looks, and then Galmar turned to me again. "What would you do if your magic ran out?" he asked. "Would you be able to hit a man's neck with an arrow if he were running at you?"
"His neck?" I asked, and thought about the scenario. "I guess no."
"How good are you with that axe on your hip?" the other man asked.
"I killed one man at Helgen," I said matter-of-factly. Killing one man to these soldiers likely wasn't a big deal, but it was all I had. I didn't delight in the idea of killing more people, but I also did not like the idea of the men who would have killed me ruling this country. From what Ralof told me, those people really, really should not win this war. "But…," I had to be honest, "it is almost too heavy for me to swing much." I was never much for talking myself up, particularly if the talk was untrue.
The two men looked to each other once more, turned away from me to talk in whispers, then turned back to me. Galmar spoke. "Look, mage, I don't want to be sendin' some child into war and then have their blood on my hands. I'm sure you want to join just as much as the next man or woman, but I can't in good halet let you walk onto the battlefield without bein' able to defend yourself properly. You can't be stoppin' in the middle of a fight to drink some magical galgerth. When the magic runs out, you'll be needin' another way to fight, and I just don't see that in you."
The other man with the reddish light-brown hair smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry. Maybe in a little while, come back if you've trained more with that axe."
Galmar and the other man walked passed me toward an open door with stairs leading up. The one with the light-brown hair turned back and asked, "What was your name again?"
"Deborah," I answered with my full name.
The man nodded, and then shut the door behind him.
I sighed, looked around the room, and walked over to a map on a table. "Sky-Rim," I said to myself as I studied the map. Skyrim, not Sky-Rim. Windhelm. Whiterun. Riverwood. I would have to ask around where I could get a map of my own.
Sometime later, Ralof returned with Ulfric, but Ulfric headed up the same stairs the other men had gone. Ralof joined me in front of the map.
"First time seeing our country?" he asked.
"Yes. It is nice to learn the way the names of places are written."
"So, what did Galmar say?" Ralof turned to me with a hopeful smile. "He usually gives nylithen some sort of test. Sends them somewhere, or makes them berjest with him or another officer."
"Test? No," I replied. "He said he thought I will die if I went to battle. Truly, I think I agree."
"Well I don't agree," Ralof said, obviously annoyed. "I think you'd be fine. He just doesn't want mages in his army."
"Why not?" I asked.
Ralof sighed. "Come on, we can spend the night in the kastalan. I'll explain over some mead."