Mychael

Dawnstar was not far, it took only two days to reach the city on horseback. Occasionally Mychael would look behind him to see if Lydia and Jon were nearby, but he could never find them. Mychael only hoped they had survived the attack at the camp. Mychael would need all the help he could get in speaking to the jarl.

It did not take long for Mychael and Ysolda to find themselves upon the large town. Mychael imagined it would be larger than it was, but that did not matter. A Khajit caravan passed them as they rode inside the town, obviously leaving. He looked at them suspiciously; many tales had reached his ear of grand heists committed by Khajit thieves in Skyrim.

Mychael soon came down from atop the horse, as did Ysolda.

"Take this horse to the stables, give them this." Mychael told her, handing her a few gold coins. "That should be enough for the stables and to get two rooms at the inn if the Jarl doesn't listen. I will be back soon."

"See you then." Ysolda said, and Mychael quickly made his way towards the Jarl's longhouse. A few guards patrolled the 'streets.' As some would call them, there were no true streets in Dawnstar; only snow.

He looked behind a few times to check if Ysolda had taken the horse to the stables. When Mychael had first arrived here, he could not find the stables and had been searching for at least half an hour. Mychael looked forward once again, to the approaching longhouse of the Jarl of Dawnstar, commonly known as the White Hall.

It did not take long for Mychael to find himself opening the door to the Longhouse, finally getting out of the cold. It was common belief that Nords were immune to the cold, but this was not the case. Mychael himself hated the cold and preferred warm areas, but there were no spots like that in Skyrim.

Soon he found himself inside the wooden building. The warmth of a hearth hit him, and the cold was finally leaving him. He searched for the Jarl, and found her sitting in her Throne. All though it was more like a chair, there was nothing powerful about it, and it did not signify power or dominance like the Thrones of the other Jarls.

The Jarl saw him enter, and then her housecarl came to the throne; along with the captain of the guard. When Mychael approached, the Jarl kept a stern eye on him. Her hair was grey, like the Grey-manes of Whiterun. She looked like a strong Nord, not surprising from a member of the Legion. A blade was at her side.

"My Jarl, I bring dark tidings." Mychael told her.

"Who are you, soldier?" She asked.

"Mychael, my lady. I come from the Legion camp stationed in the pale."

"I am Brina Merilis, Jarl of Dawnstar. Now tell me, what word do you bring from Legate Hrollod?"

"The camp was destroyed," Mychael began, "We were attacked by surprise. The Draugr hid in the trees and slaughtered nearly everyone. They will be here in a few days."

The Jarl's face immediately looked grim, as did her housecarl and captain of the guards. Mychael could not blame them; these were grim days to live in Skyrim. This was a threat that nobody knew how to stop.

"So Hrollod has failed," Jarl Brina began, "Then what would you suggest then, soldier?"

"We evacuate the city, get the women and children out and head to somewhere safe."

"A good plan if we were anywhere but in Skyrim." Brina began, "We could leave, but the cold would defeat us. Assuming the Draugr don't kill us all first."

"Dawnstar cannot be defended, you have to get everyone out or else you all will die. There are not enough men to fight, and even if there were, Dawnstar has no proper defense." Mychael said.

"Aye," Brina's housecarl, Horik Halfhand said, "The boy is right, we should leave at once."

It was clear to Mychael that now that Horik had taken his side that the Jarl was now considering it. There was no other way, and Mychael knew it. They would have to find some way out before the enemy arrived. Or else they would all be killed.

"You may be right again, Horik; and you too, soldier." Brina said, "Legate!" she shouted, and a man rushed out from one of the rooms shortly after. Clad in all imperial heavy armor, he was a strong man; there was a war axe at his side. And he answered the jarl's call.

"Yes, my Jarl?"

"Constantius, tell the guards to withdraw everyone from their homes, we have to leave Dawnstar."

"Yes, my lady." The Legate said, and he quickly withdrew from the White Hall, several guards following. Mychael turned to face the Jarl, who then rose from her chair. She put a hand on the hilt of her blade as she got up.

"Where do you suppose we go, soldier?" Brina asked, "Morthal is too close, and is likely a target by the Draugr as well. Should we go to Solitude?"

"No, it would be dangerous; we might encounter more Draugr on the way there." Mychael said, "We are safest by getting as far away from the western part of Skyrim as possible. We could head to Winterhold, and then make our way to Windhelm. It seems the safest place right now."

"Indeed, Windhelm was built to be the most defendable city in Skyrim. And the only refuge we have left." Brina said, "That settles it then, we will head for Winterhold as soon as possible. Horik, tell the guards to scour the homes for all the supplies we could use. I do not intent to have my people starve in the cold."

And with that the Jarl took a few paces from her throne, "Well soldier, you have done Dawnstar a great service, go and get a drink before we leave, you earned it."

And with that Mychael took his leave, glad to finally be done with the conversation. Mychael could not help but think that he had saved all of these people, but they were not safe just yet. They still had to outrun the Draugr. Mychael only hoped that they could get to safety in time.

When he was back in the cold of Dawnstar, he saw the guards approach every citizen in the town. Talking to those on the streets, and going into their homes. Mychael also saw as some of the towns folk desperately went to their houses to get whatever supplies they could carry. They would have to move quickly if they were to outrun the enemy.

It was then that Mychael looked to the stables and saw Ysolda speaking with two other people. Mychael quickly made his way towards them, wondering who they were. But as he got closer his heart was filled with relief, knowing that the two were Lydia and Jon Battle-Born. They did not seem to bear any injuries, though they looked tired from riding. Mychael could not blame them.

"Mychael!" Ysolda said when he got closer, "Look, its Lydia and Jon, they made it!"

The two saw him, but they did not look terribly excited to see him. Lydia approached with a stern look on her face. Jon stayed back, looking depressed.

"What did the Jarl say?"

"We have to leave soon," Mychael said, "The Jarl is preparing to evacuate the town."

"Where does she plan to go?" Ysolda asked.

"Away. We will pass Winterhold and head to Windhelm. Hopefully Jarl Brunwulf will help us when we get there."

"How long is that, three weeks journey?" Lydia said, "And in this weather? It will take even longer to get there."

"We have no choice; it's either this or fight the Draugr, which I am in no mood to do at the moment." Mychael began, "We leave soon, and it would be smart for you to join us."

"We will join you when the time comes. Until then we will be at the inn." Lydia said, and Jon followed her as they passed Ysolda and Mychael heading towards the inn.

Ysolda came up to Mychael soon after that. Mychael searched for the horse they had come to Dawnstar with, and soon enough he found it in the stables along with several other horses as well.

"Do you know when we leave?" Ysolda asked.

"When the guards gather all of the supplies and the citizens gather their valuables." Mychael said, "It's a long journey, and the food in the town will not be enough to feed everyone for several weeks."

"Indeed, what will we do until then?" Ysolda asked.

"I am going to see if the inn will allow me to get a drink, would you like to join me?"

"I see no reason not to." Ysolda smiled, and the two of them made their way to the inn. Perhaps Lydia and Jon were getting a drink as well, assuming that the innkeeper was still in business for the few hours they had left before they would flee the town.

They had made their way in to find Lydia and Jon at the bar, drinking Black-Briar mead. Mychael himself had always preferred the taste of Honningbrew mead, but that was probably because he had never tasted Back-Briar mead.

Mychael and Ysolda approached the bar and sat in the stools right next to Lydia and Jon Battle-Born. Inside, Mychael was glad that Nazeem was not here, he was a petty noble who deserved what he got. All though Mychael never understood why he didn't have a home if he was so rich.

When the bard began singing "The Dragonborn comes." Jon soon had a smile upon his face. From the few times Mychael had spoken to him, Jon had always wanted to become a bard. "The life of song is the life for me." He told Mychael once.

"Innkeeper!" Mychael shouted out. And the man who he presumed owned the inn halted their current responsibilities. Mychael could tell he was scavenging for anything he could carry that would be a necessity. But Mychael was thirsty, "How about a bottle of mead?" Mychael asked.

The innkeeper smiled, "One last bottle before the journey, eh?" he said, "Aye, I can get you one, on the house as well." And the innkeeper found on of the leftover bottles and gave it to Mychael. Who took it gladly, drinking the whole thing almost instantly; he needed something to get his mind off what was going on.

He stayed there for another hour, waiting for the time to leave. It would be a long journey to Windhelm, and only the Gods would know what they would encounter along the way.

Not much action, but something important did happen here!

I would just like to say that if anyone was made upset by my remarks about Daenerys and the Targeryans then I am truly sorry, I did not mean to mock the Mother of Dragons. As restitution for my actions, I give you this!

ASOIAF quote of the day: "The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki Sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen." –Illyrio Mopatis, the Cheesemonger, Magister of Pentos, Friend of Tyrion, Friend of Griff, Friend of 'Aegon', and the truest supporter of the Blackfyre family.