Chapter 21: Divided we Fall

Jarl Balgruuf glared over the Dragonsreach balcony with uncharacteristic, quiet pensiveness. His knuckles had long turned white from his iron grip on the balcony, and although beacons burned either side of him, his bare arms couldn't help but shiver from the cold of night. He stared out into the hold below, and for a moment it seemed as if Whiterun was the only settlement in Skyrim. The only light in the gathered dark, huddling from turbulent storm clouds circling ominously. He had spent the best part of the day inspecting the defences, making sure the newly stationed legionaries had everything they needed, and trying to broker some agreement between Commander Caius and the Imperial Legate as to who was ultimately in command. He'd settled the matter by pointedly stating that their relation to each other was irrelevant, as whilst they were based in Whiterun they answered to him. Their muttered curses at his intervention were much easier on the mind than the boisterous verbal brawling.

Prior to the last few days, things had been greatly improving. Bolstered by the victories against the vampires and the dragon, the panic which had seeped in amongst the populace seemed to have been replaced by a confident resolve. Even the issue of the escaped vampire had been smoothed over quickly enough. Balgruuf realised it may hurt their wounded spirits, but he was hardly going to tell a bare-faced lie to his friends and subjects – though he elected not to name the one who clearly helped her. From the few weeks Balgruuf had known him, the dragonborn had demonstrated a stalwart and unyielding loyalty to those who he had fought with, even when in his mind such strong feelings were dangerously misplaced. He didn't hold a grudge against Sihtric for what he may have done in releasing the girl however. If men began punishing men for doing what they thought was right or honourable, who would be left to hold Skyrim true to itself?

Then again, stubborn adherence to a man's own beliefs in the righteousness of his cause now brought Balgruuf to his current darkened state of mind, in more than one regard:

The day had begun with the promise of normality. Disagreements between neighbours were settled, Farengar gave his progress report on uncovering the nature of these dragons, before the jarl had briefly overseen the guards in honing their archery skills on airborne moving targets – whilst Aela the Huntress looked on sternly. It gladdened Balgruuf's heart to see the higher level of cooperation which had emerged between the city and the Companions since the recent troubles. Often in the past they had been reserved, reclusive even from the rest of the city, but now in these darker times when heroes were most needed, they had stepped up to show the people of Whiterun that they need not cower in fear, and to hold their heads high.

Half-way through the afternoon, he heard a familiar voice.

"I seek an audience with the jarl. I have a message for him. It's urgent."

Balgruuf turned his eyes away from Avenicci's flawless yet mind-numbing records. A smile crept unbidden across his face at seeing the lithe figure of the dragonborn standing before him, after a noted absence from Dragonsreach. He wore the mark of the road heavily upon him. His wolf armour displayed faint stains of dirt and blood, and dark, weary shadows loomed under his bright green eyes.

"What is it my friend?" The jarl asked, rising to his feet and closing the distance between them. The dragonborn reached behind him and offered Balgruuf an ornate steel axe.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak asked me to deliver this to you my jarl."

Balgruuf took the axe, feeling its weight in both hands.

"Did he now? Hmph. The man is persistent, I'll give him that. I suppose it's time I gave him an answer…"

Balgruuf turned to his steward. "Proventus, what do you make of all this? If Ulfric were to attack Whiterun…"

Avenicci spread his hands. "As in all things lord, caution. I urge us to wait and see."

"Prey waits." Irileth interjected.

"I'm of a mind with Irileth." Balgruuf said, before letting out a small sigh. "It's time to act," he continued.

"You plan to march on Windhelm?" Avenicci asked, his eyes widening in excitement.

"I'm not a fool Proventus! I mean its time to challenge Ulfric to face me as a man, or march his stormcloaks up to the gates."

Suddenly, Sihtric made a show of clearing his throat. "My Jarl," he began. "may I speak with you?" His eyes darted between Avenicci and Irileth. "Privately?"

The Jarl noticed the concern, confusion tightly woven into his tired face. However, this was hardly the time for personal concerns. This 'message' required immediate action.

"I'm sorry friend, but can't it wait? This matter is, as I'm sure you can see, rather pressing – for all of us." He said, raising the axe to emphasise his point.

"My lord, it concerns the present situation." Sihtric replied with unusual curtness, none of the usual irreverent mirth in his tone. "I think you're making a terrible mistake."

Balgruuf stiffened on his throne, raising his head back slightly. "Well then, it's fortunate for you I appreciate directness. I'm sure my advisors are as keen as I to hear your concerns in this matter."

Sihtric glanced a little nervously at Irileth and Proventus, clearly uncomfortable at the sudden attention boring down on him from atop the throne steps. He quickly tried to dispel the tension. "My jarl… as you know I prefer action to words, so forgive me if I cannot match the eloquence of your court."

Balgruuf smiled at that.

"But when we discussed the war in the past, you always took a balanced position. You told me you were on the side of Whiterun, of the best interests of your people."

The Jarl nodded, his face neutral.

Sihtric continued, confidence building in his voice. "I've always respected you for that. You told me that both sides in this war called out for your allegiance, and that each of them had a fair point when asking for your support – yet now despite your words I see you allowing your imperial steward to steer you towards his cause – without even stopping to consider giving the kinsman who trusted you with his axe a fair hearing."

"Proventus, Irileth, leave us." The tone in the jarl's voice brooked no opposition.

Balgruuf felt a foul taste in his mouth. Was the dragonborn really so naïve that he could believe that Ulfric was somehow the noble, wronged party in all this? He sensed old, bitter feelings beginning to bloom alongside half-forgotten memories.

"I once told you that it's important for a man not to allow his feelings to cloud his judgement," the Jarl said, in a voice not unlike a man addressing his children. "You did once before, I recall. Yes, I'm no fool thane, I know you had a hand in the vampire's escape."

"We owed her at least that much" Sihtric breathed softly.

"And I forgave you boy. I wasn't going to lock you up for doing what you thought was right. I just don't want to see you putting your faith in the wrong person, again."

"She helped us, helped save us twice over, and you still think she deserved death?"

Balgruuf wished he could make the younger man see the larger picture. "More than the innocents who come across that poor, half-maddened creature when next she loses control."

"Perhaps." Sihtric replied, conflict still thick in his throat. "But I hardly think that I alone can be accused of letting my feelings interfere Jarl Balgruuf. Your… troubled history with the Jarl of Windhelm is well known."

After a few moments of shocked silence, the jarl began to speak in barely more than a raised whisper. "You know, I thought better of you. Do you think Ulfric really cares about Skyrim's independence, or the welfare of its people? I promise you, he doesn't. He's nothing more than a barbarian renegade, whose lust for power has already cost the lives of countless innocents!"

Sihtric's voice echoed the Jarl's fury. "If you truly knew the man, if you sat across a table with him, fought by his side you'd know otherwise. A Nord does not inspire half of his kingdom to rise up with 'lust for power' in his heart, nor he does not risk his life leading them into battle at Darkwater Crossing!"

"I think I've heard enough. That will be all for now, dragonborn" the jarl stated with finality.

Sihtric struggled to regain his composure, holding his hands up and lowering his voice to a semblance of calm. "My Jarl. I delved to the depths of Bleak falls Barrow in your service, I fought outlaws and draugr to retrieve the means to fight these dragons. When you asked me to challenge a dragon that was threatening your… our city, I volunteered without question, even though in my heart I was almost certain it would lead to my death. Please, for all I have done for you and for Whiterun, for the trust and the friendship I've earned, at least consider speaking with Ulfric."

The jarl rose to his feet, descended the small flight of steps, stopping directly in front of Sihtric. "Is that what the esteemed Jarl of Windhelm wanted you to tell me? He wants to 'talk things over'?"

"Actually, he told me that sometimes, there is no need for words between men who understand each other."

"Then perhaps, on this rare occasion, Ulfric isn't deluding himself." Balgruuf shoved the hefty axe into the Dragonborn's hands. "There's my answer. Make sure he gets it."

Balgruuf remembered watching from the corner of his eye as the shadow of his former friend turned and quickly exited the keep, and thinking he saw silent fury in his stride. It was only a matter of time now. Ulfric had played his hand openly, he wanted Whiterun, its allegiance or its submission, and Balgruuf's refusal of the former meant that the Stormcloaks would have to act fast before Whiterun could bolster its supplies and fortify its position. Luckily, General Tullius was clearly prepared to move on Whiterun at a moment's notice. The walls were old, but they still held firm, and Balgruuf doubted that Ulfric would be able to commit the number of forces necessary to maintain a siege of this scale.

At that moment, a soft flutter glided through the air, and a small, speckled bird landed on the balcony beside him. A small piece of parchment was tied around one of its delicate legs. The Jarl untied the string and held it up to the torchlight.

Movement in the Pale.

"And so it begins" the Jarl stated to no-one, before burning the message in the flame.