They were gathered within an hour. Uhther had had barely enough time to visit one of the camp's quartermasters to see about something to eat when a runner came to inform him that his honour guard awaited his pleasure.

Around a mouthful of cheese and bread, Uhther thanked the runner. He gulped down the hasty meal with a swallow of wine, grabbed Dragons Breath, which was propped against a nearby stool, and hastened to the edge of camp.

There he found them, waiting in three lines, one behind the other. Uhther noticed that they were not divided by faction but as one unified force. Blade stood shoulder to shoulder with Stormcloak, or Stormfist as he must now think of them, while the Sworn-Swords and the mercenaries were mixed among them.

In front of the front rank stood Delphine, looking impatient, her fingers drumming the hilt of her sword; Ralof, who was hefting his axe and looking so calm you'd think he was expecting nothing more than a day's hunt; Kharjo, who seemed to have assumed command of the Sworn-Swords and mercenary group; and the three housecarls, looking particularly fearsome in their dragonplate. Jordis stood in the centre, Frost in evidence across her back, while Lydia and Argis flanked her on either side, shields at the ready. Lydia's hand rested on the pommel of Vaatdeinmaar, Argis's upon Forsvare's head.

'Well,' Uhther began, not seeing the point of much preamble. They all knew why they were there and what might be expected of them, 'the queen awaits us.'

With no further words, he strode to the side road that would lead them up past the farm and then onto the main road to the city. The guard fell in behind him, the sound of dozens of heavy footfalls against the ground was monstrous behind him. But Uhther resisted the urge to look back. He kept his eyes up to the spires of the Blue Palace.

He had just rounded the side of Katla's Farm when he received a fresh surprise. His was not the only small column approaching the capital. A line of town guardsmen, each carrying a shield displaying the crest of Morthal, was marching behind two mounted figures. One was clearly Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone, here for Queen Elisif's Moot, no doubt. How would she react if she saw him? He had always been well received in her court, she had even made him a thane. But she was loyal to the empire and to the throne. If Elisif was declaring him an enemy of Skyrim, would that liking for him be enough?

Before Uhther could decide on a course of action, some of the men in the Morthal column noticed him and his following. There was a moment's pause. Then a cheer went up from the Morthal men. Uhther felt a tension he had not noticed leave him. It seemed the men, at least, were on his side.

Jarl Idgrod turned back to see what was causing the noise and she too noticed the Dragonborn and his entourage. She reined her horse in turned it about to face him.

'Uhther!' she called to him, 'I must confess I didn't foresee this. Have you come to turn yourself in?'

Uhther stiffened. Behind him he heard nervous shuffling of men and women hesitantly reaching for weapons. But Idgrod had not sounded confrontational. If anything, she was speaking as if the whole thing were a joke.

'I come merely to speak to the queen,' said Uhther, 'I have no intention of ending up in a dungeon.'

Jarl Idgrod nodded.

'Good,' she said, 'then I will see you at the Blue Palace. I believe there are some of your men travelling with us, you'll want to catch up with them.' With that, Idgrod turned her horse about and signalled the men of Morthal to continue on to the city. Uhther saw the burly figure of Gorm, Idgrod's housecarl, give him a nod before trotting after his liege-lady. The other mounted figure did not follow on, however. They stayed where they were, their horse's head tossing impatiently. The men of Morthal continued on, many calling over to Uhther;

'Heard what you did to the embassy, lord!'

'Those elf bastards won't win this time, lord!'

'All hail the Dragonborn!'

Well that was encouraging, Uhther thought.

It was a moment before what Jarl Idgrod had said actually registered. Some of his men had been travelling with them? He did not have to wait long to find out who she had been talking about. Two men moved away from the column and made their way towards them. Uhther knew immediately who they were and, smiling, went to meet them.

'A pleasure to see you well, Lord,' said Valdimar, pulling off his dragonplate helmet.

'Though I do wish it were in happier times,' said Benor, his gruff face grinning, despite his words.

Uhther was lost for words. Of all the things he'd been expecting that day, to be joined by another of his housecarls and another Sworn-Sword had not been on the list. And Benor was one of the strongest men he knew, certainly worth bringing anywhere there might be a fight. He carried a Nordic battleaxe on his back and he knew how to use it.

And Valdimar, the only mage among his housecarls, if he alone had come then Uhther would have counted his fortune good. His hand rested on the wicked clawed head of the dragonbone mace, Grave's Fury, the other at his side.

'I'm so glad you came,' Uhther finally said.

'Well when we heard the news from Morthal, Adelaisa and I agreed I should join you,' Valdimar said, 'she stayed behind to manage the estate. I picked up Benor on the way then we caught up with the jarl and her men.'

'And me as well,' a new voice cut across them and Uhther looked up to see the other rider had joined them. She had been wearing a cowl, obscuring her face, but she had now thrown that back to reveal the face of Idgrod the Younger, the jarl's daughter.

She had been a good-looking girl, as well as smart and nurturing. Uhther had always enjoyed speaking with her when he had visited Morthal. She had grown since the last time he had seen her. The girl was now a woman, now in her early twenties Uhther believed, and was no longer pretty but beautiful. She would have men and women all across the province fighting for her hand, Uhther thought, if they are not already.

And if I had never met Sylgja, I might have been one of them, Uhther thought.

Idgrod the Younger smiled at him as she dismounted from her horse, an elegant looking gelding, and came to join the two men from Morthal.

'Lady,' Uhther greeted her formally, Idgrod would be jarl one day after all. Idgrod huffed impatiently and threw her arms around Uhther, planting a kiss on his cheek as if she were greeting long-absent relative.

'I wasn't expecting to see you,' she said, her voice rich and warm as fresh mead, 'I was worried the jarls might decide to arrest you.'

'Me?' Uhther asked, innocently, 'why I'm but a simple citizen of Skyrim, why would the jarls bother with the likes of me?'

Idgrod punched Uhther in the shoulder by way of answer then, leading her horse, she walked with him up the path and around towards the city gates. Benor went to join the column while Valdimar fell in with the other housecarls.

Half of my housecarls in one place, thought Uhther, that hasn't happened in a good while.

'I assume you heard what happened in the east?' Idgrod asked.

'What?' Uhther asked, suddenly on edge. By Oblivion, what else could have happened?

Idgrod looked at him, half incredulous, half amused. 'The Fangs,' she said, prompting, 'Lucia the Young Dragon.'

'Oh,' said Uhther, fighting not to sigh heavily in relief, 'yes, I heard about that.'

Idgrod beamed, 'Its amazing. They're so young yet were able to go against the Kingsworn and still come out victorious.'

'The who?' Uhther asked. They had reached the walls by now. The Solitude guard seemed to hesitant about letting so many armed men and women into the city at once but, seeing Uhther and Idgrod, and of course knowing who both were, had no choice but to let them all pass. As soon as they had passed into the city, Idgrod looked at him.

'Had you not heard?' she asked, 'the old Stormcloaks, still fighting for Ulfric's dream of a Skyrim free of outside influence.'

'What?' Uhther's words were echoed by Ralof, who at the mention of Ulfric Stormcloak, had marched forward to join them.

'Little more than a pack of bandits really,' Idgrod said, looking at Ralof, curiously, 'but they'd taken many of the Forts in Eastmarch and the Rift. The Fangs have chased them up north of Windhelm, last I heard.'

Ralof looked worried. He was not the only one. Uhther looked back at his honour guard. They might call themselves Stormfists now but how many would remain with him if they found out there were still those who were fighting the old fight? For that matter, would Ralof remain? But another question caught at his mind.

'How are you so well informed?' he asked Idgrod, who tossed her hair impatiently.

'My mother is the jarl, if you'd forgotten,' she said, 'we hear news from all over Skyrim. Not to mention my brother is one of your daughter's band,' she looked slyly at Uhther, 'you remember Joric?'

Uhther did. A good boy, who's mind had apparently been addled by magic. He was one of Lucia's Fangs?

'Joric sends me messages about what he and the others are doing,' Idgrod said, smugly, 'I'm probably better informed than most about what they're doing. They were in Windhelm, last I heard.'

Windhelm? So, Lucia was with Sylgja and the other children. That was for the best, Uhther thought. By the sound of things, Lucia would be able to keep them safe until he could get to them.

He pushed this news to the back of his mind. Deal with the matter at hand first, move on to the next thing afterwards. Assuming, of course, there was an afterwards.

They passed through the market district and into the residential area, the manors and high roofed houses of Skyrim's elite stretching out before him, ending in the high towered walls and sapphire dome of the Blue Palace.

The line of Morthal soldiers had drawn to a halt and seemed to be waiting for something.

A sudden, tramping sound caught Uhther's attention and he turned to see yet another line of soldiers emerging from Castle Dour, those of the imperial legion, and marching down to meet them in front of the palace. At this line's head were two figures Uhther knew very well. A broad shouldered, flaxen haired woman, clad in heavy imperial plate, marching alongside a blade thin, grizzled, grey haired man. Legate Rikke and General Tullius.

The two lines of soldiers, Uhther's and the imperial legion's, drew side by side as the ramp from the castle met the main street that led through the city. Uhther saluted, solemnly.

'General Tullius, Sir!'

The grey-haired veteran regarded Uhther, his dark eyes unreadable, before giving a curt nod.

'Legate,' was all he said. He did not even break his stride. He led the column on, past Uhther's line, towards the palace. Rikke, however, hung back.

'You've really made a mess this time,' she said, as she fell in beside him and Idgrod.

'Are you saying I was wrong?' Uhther asked, 'wrong to attack the embassy?'

Rikke's expression hardly changed, she had been implacable for as long as Uhther had known her, but he did think he saw the side of her mouth twitch.

'I'm not saying I wouldn't have liked to do what you did,' she said, 'I doubt there are many who wouldn't, the general among them, but you charging in like that has forced action.'

'Maybe action needed to be taken,' Uhther growled, 'maybe we've gotten too comfortable recently.'

'That was not your decision to make,' Rikke hissed, 'you are not jarl, nor king, nor emperor. You are a legate and a thane but that does not place you nearly high enough to make that sort of decision.'

Uhther bit his tongue. The annoying thing was, he knew Rikke was right. But he'd had to do something. Especially after finding out about the Tower. It was not just about freedom from the Aldmeri Dominion any more, it was about protecting reality itself.

'Elenwen is dead, I assume?' Rikke cut across his thoughts. Startled, Uhther simply shook his head.

'Escaped,' he said, shortly, 'got out during the fighting, I think.'

Glancing at Rikke, Uhther saw her regarding him, as if she had seen him for the first time. He was spared asking the other Legate what her problem was when they arrived at the gates of the Blue Palace. There they found what was keeping the Morthal guard at bay. Nearly thirty guardsmen, each holding the red shield of Solitude, stood before the gates in a wall.

'Lord Uhther!' the man who seemed to be in charge of the line called to him, 'the Queen awaits you. The Legate and the Lady Idgrod as well. You are permitted to bring your housecarls and your captains,' the man's eyes darted to Ralof and Delphine quickly before returning to the Dragonborn, 'but your other men are to remain outside.'

Uhther nodded. It was no more than he'd expected. If anything, he was surprised he was allowed to bring so many in with him. The honour guard had served its purpose anyway. They had shown their strength and he had arrived at the palace without being caught in an ambush.

He turned and gestured to Delphine and Ralof to follow.

'Kharjo,' he called to the khajiit, who was trying to push his way through to the front, evidently feeling 'captains' included him, 'you're in charge until I get back.'

Kharjo stopped what he was doing. He looked a little annoyed but saluted, smartly.

'This one obeys. We shall be ready.'

Uhther nodded to him, then turned and walked to the palace doors. The Solitude guards parted for them to pass. Uhther felt a familiar presence at his back. Lydia had moved to his right shoulder. He was sure the other housecarls were doing similar. Taking a deep breath, Uhther pushed open the door.