Special thanks to 16DarkMidnight80 for going over this!

-L-

Mjoll and I arrived at Hjerim to find the front room full of dragon teeth, scales, claws and small bones. The smallest pieces had been stuffed into the kinds of crates one sees at the marketplace for fruit and vegetables with what looked like a mulish insistence on neatness. Given the material, it was a feat of organization.

"Got some friends hunting dragons, eh?" Mjoll asked dryly, immediately walking up to a crate and pulling out a claw, comparing its size to that of her hand. "What a monster." She dropped the claw back into the crate.

My jaw actually dropped, remembering the request I'd sent out about dragon… leftovers. I'd put Ralof in charge of that task, since he'd been on-hand to assign to it. Apparently I'd been taken more than seriously, for it looked like as much as a six-man unit (or a large wagon requisitioned by one) could carry. My brain ticked as I figured how much much-needed money I was looking at. I'll have to control the flow of material or crash the market. Maybe set up someone in my employ as a purveyor of dragon products. I know smiths would be eager to get their hands on such things.

I examined one of the teeth, easily as big as my hand and wondered whether good arrowheads could be crafted from such a medium. There was a rather remarkable fletcher in Solitude who could probably have done it. I need someone who can work in Solitude, not just copies of the Solitude Courier.

"It's such a mess," Svana said, coming in and wiping floury hands on a towel. "I just didn't know where to put it all. Also, you have messages…" She hurried upstairs and returned with a fistful of letters, one of which she shuffled to the top. "This—well, these—were left with the delivery of bones."

It was a brief note, little more than a scribbled 'dead dragons hereabouts—asked around, others will send more as possible' on a map of Eastmarch with several marks indicating two other 'hereabouts.'

That explained the profusion of dragonbone and dragon teeth. The 'these' she mentioned were little notes from the various unit leaders who had contributed to the collection, each as neatly written as an inventory should be. "Lovely." I'll be writing letters tonight. I know Adrianne in Whiterun will want as many as she can afford; I'll gift some to Nurelion, and Arcadia—alchemists being what they are—and, yes, Wuunferth who can do something unholy (and I mean that with fondness) to them…

…no. I'll see if he can't create or obtain from his connections something to make me less noticeable when I'm working. And barring that…

"Aerin," I called, bringing him out of his earnest conversation with Mjoll. "Have I had any other shipments come in while I was away?"

"I put them all down in the cellar," Aerin answered.

"And you haven't had any trouble with the locals?"

"…not particularly," he answered.

I frowned at him, wanting a yes or no answer. If the answer is no, so much the better; if the answer is yes… then we have another problem I need to attend.

Aerin chuckled at this. "No need to look so grim, I wasn't evading. I haven't had any trouble. Nor Svana, for that matter."

"Good." It wasn't Svana I worried about.

I shuffled the papers and found one in an unpracticed hand which bore Svana's name at the bottom and was a list of the things she'd heard while managing my 'charity.' I was glad she had the sense to write it down—and date each entry. Another was from Marcurio containing an update on his situation (with the heavy implication that payment for the retention of services would be most appreciated at the beginning of the month).

"Has there been anyone asking about me lately?"

"Not at all, my lady," Svana answered promptly.

"Not that I've heard—are you expecting someone?" Aerin asked.

"There's a courier been running around the Province with a message from my family—so she says. I know she'll be in Eastmarch soon." And that worries me. I don't believe this guff about a message from my family—we're more than simply 'on the outs,' I think—but it would take some guts on the part of an Imperial or Thalmor agent to want to be obvious about looking for me in Windhelm. "If she should make an appearance, I'd like to speak to her—if I'm not home and if possible, have her wait here until I come back."

I won't live looking over my shoulder if I know what to look for.

-L-

The main hall of the Palace of the Kings was as objectionable as ever. I didn't know how to bring it to Ulfric's attention that the first impression he's trying to make—assuming he knows he's supposed to make one and that first impressions are lasting impressions—isn't a favorable one. I'm not suggesting anything ridiculously ornate, but the Blue Palace's audience hall is an austere room, or would be if not for banners and little decorative touches to soften the effect.

I have the feeling that if a woman brings up décor the reaction will be in response to clichés on the subject. I'm not asking to cover the floor in marble or hand-carve the stonework in the wall (although plaster with a mural on it wouldn't go amiss). I'd simply like to see the place presented as being on a creditable level.

I mothballed the idea as I searched the room for Ulfric. The time had come to explain my plans for taking Whiterun, not necessarily bloodlessly but with less trouble than a siege would take. I had almost everything in place, especially with the wealth of dragon bits I was ready to begin moving. A wagonload to Whiterun will easily justify my next trip.

"Where is his lordship?" I asked, catching the nearest house servant.

"In his quarters, I think, my Thane," the boy, just into his teens, answered promptly.

"Very well. As soon as you can, let him know that I await his indulgence. I'll be in the strategy room." With that, I veered off and entered the small chamber, running over the salient points of my plan with eyes half-closed, one hand resting cagelike over Whiterun. I'll need to ensure Ysolda isn't there—more for her protection than anything else. And when she gets back, she'll have some protection if some of the narrow-mindedness in Windhelm tries to spread. My name should carry some weight, Thane that I am.

I was there for about a quarter of an hour before the door opened to reveal Ulfric quite obviously ready to go outside.

Before he could speak I smiled faintly and held up the pin for Whiterun with its little yellow flag and stuck it into the map.

Ulfric's brow clouded and I nearly laughed—it was a look I'd seen before, that of a lad being told he couldn't go outside to play when he was quite eager to do so.

"I can wait, my lord," I answered. "There's plenty to do and for once it isn't snowing."

"Can you ride?" Ulfric asked simply.

-L-

I had the impression Ulfric was venting a particularly bad bout of stir-craziness. The roads would be unpleasant to walk, but the shaggy horses had less trouble. I rode in silence, keeping pace with him until he finally checked his horse's pace and heaved a heavy sigh, his breath billowing as a white cloud.

I'd left Mjoll and Ulfric left Galmar, which made our entourage simple soldiers pulled from the garrison.

"You have Whiterun."

"I have enough of a plan that sharing it will not waste your time, my lord."

"Good. Let's hear it."

"Sieges are drawn out and messy. My proposition is to cripple Balgruuf early and have him end the hostilities himself."

Ulfric looked away from the road, the now already turned up from our outward progress, to frown at me. "He wouldn't. He's too damn stubborn."

"He will if he thinks I'll slit his children's throats. Either he'll try to smuggle them out of Whiterun before he has to close the city, or he'll keep them secure in the palace. But as I've already demonstrated, a palace is not impregnable. Especially when other things are on the inhabitants' minds."

I knew the suggestion troubled him. It's not something one often hears from a woman, the threatening and possibly ending of a child's life. I'd do it… but I'd rather not. Hostages are tricky, but it isn't as if Balgruuf is in a position to replace them—their mother whom he so truly loved is dead. They're all he has of her.

"That's… unexpected."

"This is war, my lord. And this is my solution—assuming Balgruuf's better sense doesn't prevail."

"You couldn't drive a wedge between him and the Legion?"

"It would be found out and make more trouble than it's worth. I did consider it. Shall I continue, or is this a plan you reject? Consider," I added hastily, "that my way reduces the time in which your brothers and several of my friends can take injury or be killed."

Ulfric laughed at this, but his look was mildly reproving. "I've fought wars before. They're rarely pleasant. And I reject nothing as I haven't heard the rest of this plan of yours."

Good man.

"The plan requires agents inside Whiterun before Balgruuf closes the city. Vignar is looking for people willing to perform the ugly necessity if Balgruuf proves reticent beyond what I expect. If he doesn't find them, then I'll find them among your soldiers. It is also necessary that I be there in person to make the negotiations."

"You'd also make a valuable hostage," Ulfric frowned.

"If I'm captured, perhaps. But I have business in Whiterun so my coming and going won't be questioned. If I'm in the city when it closes… so much the worse for me. I and my handpicked men will slip into Dragonsreach and find a way to drug the children. They won't be trouble that way and won't be unduly terrified out of their wits. They will be removed to a place of safety separate from their father. Their wellbeing will be the club over Balgruuf's head, and by allowing him correspondence with them he can keep himself assured of their situation."

"It would be easier to kill him." But Ulfric didn't sound thrilled with the idea.

"That would not only be unwise, it would be wasteful. Balgruuf is close with the Dragonborn and she strikes me as the kind of woman who would take it badly amiss if anything terrible happened to Balgruuf. When I say 'amiss' I mean complicating the war—perhaps even going so far as to join the Empire. Her support is a symbol and to have her set her face against you is going to drive off those partisans who believe in ideals. Keeping Balgruuf safely in Windhelm—under little more than house arrest—shows consideration for her."

Ulfric nodded, eyebrows contracting as he chewed this over.

"I have a place in mind to send the children and I have keepers in mind—a pair of Whiterun natives. Perhaps you are aware of the Grey-Mane versus Battle-Born feud in Whiterun?"

He nodded.

"Jon Battle-Born and Olfina Grey-Mane are lovers kept apart by their families. Going against their families and staying in Whiterun isn't an option for them, but one doesn't just run away and live on love. My proposal is to offer them an exchange: a safe place where they can live and love in peace, where they will be provided for because I intend to send my 'brothers and sister' to that place to keep them away from the war. Who would they tell where the children are, unwelcome in Whiterun as they will be until their families grow up?"

"Where would you send them?"

I shifted in the saddle. "Not forgetting all the respect I hold for you, my jarl—"

Ulfric snorted. "Spare me the empty pleasantries."

"Then I shall begin again: nor forgetting the respect I hold for you, my jarl, I would prefer to keep that information to myself. Holding a club tempts one to use it, and I would not wish you to reduce yourself to using the club more often than the plan calls for."

I may not like him, I may not share his views and ideals, but I do respect Ulfric. He's a capable leader and I can see glimpses of what makes him a capable general. It's more than I felt when I first arrived. Then again… I would probably come to respect anyone who put me in a position to wage my own war. It's tedious that I have to drive this one first, but patience is a virtue.

And it gives me time to ensure the first major blow I orchestrate against the Thalmor is something impossible to ignore. Forcing them out of Markarth means the only bulwark they have is Solitude—unless they deign to appropriate one or more of the ruined forts dotted around Skyrim. More angry, touchy Thalmor in Solitude will cause tension and they'll find themselves in a climate moving towards that of Markarth currently. They'll try to stop it and, if I know anything about 'human' nature, they'll make it worse. And if I know anything about human nature, the people of Solitude will resent this more and faster than anywhere else, since they're a bastion of pro-Empire loyalty.

"Tell me about the place you intend to place them," Ulfric said flatly. I could tell he didn't like the answer but however much he didn't like it he wasn't going to deny that I had a point.

"It's a fine place, once I acquire it—but my next business trip to Whiterun will put me in good stead for that. It's quiet, well away from the nearest town and not in Eastmarch. If I had siblings I wanted to keep safe, I would put them there. There's space to play. And it's possible to live in a partially-finished home while the last of it is being constructed—it will go more quickly if I can dispatch a group of the lads to hasten the project."

"They're your units."

"Thank you, my lord." That does make life easier. I'm sure there's an architect somewhere whom I can consult.

"So this is going to take time," Ulfric sighed.

"So will a siege," I answered. "The only difference is where the time is spent. And I would really rather limit the time my lads spend within range of Whiterun's archers. They are rather good."

"Proceed with the plan, then. I'll inform Galmar of it and have him prepare for a traditional approach. Just in case."

"I appreciate just in case, my lord. I could be wrong, in which case the plan fails." I teetered on telling him I was ready to start the process of releasing Madanach, but decided not to. The first stint of my agent in Cidhna Mine is just to pan the waters. And no one questions a repeat-offender—it's just one more in the labor force, more silver into the owner's coffers.

"But you don't think it will."

"I don't think it will fail, no."

Ulfric nodded. "Work quickly. They year's wearing on."

So it is. And that's a problem here in Skyrim.

-L-

(Delivered by message hawk)

29 First Seed

Geirlund,

Your unit has been activated for special duty. Set aside your Stormcloak identifiers, as I'm sending you to Falkreath.

A woman named Valga Vinicia is having a spot of trouble with the Jarl and I need him to loosen his grip on her throat. Falkreath has a mine—Embershard—in which a pack of bandits has holed up. The Jarl wants them wiped out, and I don't doubt they'll be mischief for Falkreath sooner or later.

Strip the bandits and approach Bolund. He and his brother own Grey Pine goods—or, rather, they run it for Siddgeir. Bolund isn't happy about the Imperial presence, and is likely to cut better deals with Nords that Solaf is. Reimburse yourselves as necessary from the spoils; hold the rest for the next part of this assignment.

Once the Embershard portion of the mission has concluded you will personally approach Nenya, Falkreath's steward. Give her my regards and tell her I sent you and that the situation with Embershard is under control—show her the result if she wishes. She will open negotiations for a property in which I'm interested. Use the message hawk so I remain part of the negotiations.

While you are negotiating, send a reliable man and however much of your unit you wish to scout the locations on the enclosed map. I want opinions on the suitability of these locations for forward operating bases to be used in future. Should your man/men come across better locations, have them marked and a report drafted as to the benefits of using such locations. I trust your man's eye as a soldier.

I will convey additional instructions as the situation unfolds.

Leandra Grey

-L-

(Delivered by Stormcloak courier)

29 First Seed

Vidrald:

Your unit has been activated for special duty. Set aside your Stormcloak identifiers, as I'm sending you to Whiterun.

Upon arrival in the city's vicinity, send one of your Whiterun non-natives to Arcadia's cauldron and ask her for a dozen medium number three vials.

Please find on the enclosed map a location known as the Sleeping Tree. At this location you will find a tree with a spigot in it (and possibly giants or some other monstrosity). Collect as much of the sap as you safely can—and, if possible, ascertain the fate of one Orismer mercenary, name of Ulag—then return to Whiterun. Send one of your non-Whiterun natives into the city with six of the vials, to be delivered to my business partner Ysolda—please do not mention my involvement. She will pay a sum of 150s. per vial. If Ulag's fate has been discovered, inform her.

Reimburse yourselves for the expense of the vials and any medical supplies needed. Have one of your men bring the sap and the rest of the money back to Windhelm. The remaining men shall investigate locations marked on the enclosed map, vetting them for possible use of forward operating camps. Furthermore, investigate the major roads leading from Markarth and Solitude. Consider and forward to me by message hawk the likelihood of a blockade or the ease of men harassing an incoming force.

I will convey additional instructions as the situation unfolds.

Leandra Grey

-L-

(Delivered by message hawk)

29 First Seed

Avulstein:

Return to Windhelm immediately.

Look to your men or your acquaintances within the army. I need a handful of dedicated men for an exceptionally dangerous venture. Discretion and extraordinary courage will be required, details forthcoming face-to-face.

Leandra Grey

P.S: I will be traveling through Whiterun soon. Write to your mother.

-L-

(Delivered by message hawk)

29 First Seed

Thorald:

Return to Windhelm immediately.

Look to your men or your acquaintances within the army. I need a handful of dedicated men for an exceptionally dangerous venture. Discretion and extraordinary courage will be required, details forthcoming face-to-face.

Leandra Grey

P.S: I will be traveling through Whiterun soon. Write to your mother.

-L-

(Delivered by courier)

29 First Seed

To my dear Ysolda,

I've hit such a windfall! I met with some adventurer-types who have made something of a name for themselves as dragon hunters and obtained the locations of some of the corpses of these beasts. I will be bringing a shipment of dragon bits (there has to be a better name for them) to Whiterun within the next fortnight—sooner rather than later. Could you put word around and generate some excitement? I know Adrianne will want as much as she can afford.

Yours,

Leandra

-L-

(Delivered by message hawk)

3 First Seed

Dear Leandra,

Dragonbone? Adrianne's eyes lit up like you wouldn't believe. I think Arcadia might be interested. Farengar definitely is—and Belethor is quite put out. According to that shyster, you can't get that sort of thing for love or money. He even went so far as to make a loud and obnoxious monologue about it at the Bannered Mare. Let's prove him wrong, that it really does just take the right contacts.

Looking forward to seeing you soon,

Ysolda

-L-

Avulstein and Thorald set speed records for getting back to Windhelm. Each had two men—well, one of the candidates was a woman—with him, and Thorald had pulled a friend of his from the garrison. We met at Hjerim, though I don't doubt I could have asked to borrow Ulfric's strategy room. Nevertheless, the matter was sensitive, and I didn't want to deal with too many prying ears.

Mjoll had apparently caught on to me, that much of my business was of the secretive variety and that I'd been careful to keep her at arm's reach of it, casually asked whether she needed to make herself scarce. For a few moments I worried that the secretive nature might arouse disapproval or do something to alienate her—why do I need to hide it, that kind of question.

I misjudged her in this respect. Not being partisan, who I work with is my job and I haven't asked her to do or support anything questionable—she told me as much. Furthermore, which upset me more than it should have, she patted my shoulder and told me she trusted my character before she snatched up Aerin and dragged him to Candlehearth for a drink.

I shook myself, forcing the conversation to the back of my mind (and hoping it would get lost in the shuffle of ideas usually back there). "I need a brave and dedicated man for a delicate operation involving Cidhna Mine," I said, looking at the five faces—I'd asked Thorald and Avulstein not to sit in on the meeting, since the fewer people who know about it the better. And moreover, I'll need more than one operative for this at some point, so while five is too many for my liking I may be glad of that many later. "I'm also sending someone to Markarth for other reasons. I need to know the lay of the land there. I may also need an agent for a separate assignment—information gathering, that sort of thing."

One of the men shifted, then held up a hand as if unsure how to indicate he had something to contribute. When I gave him my attention, "I'm from Markarth, my Thane. Never said why I left, just packed up, picked up, and off I went."

"So no one would question you coming back?" I frowned. A native would be useful.

"I wouldn't think so. Most'd figure my contract had run out. I was a sellsword. Pretty good one, too," he added with the off-handed thoughtfulness of those truly aware of their own abilities and value.

"What's your name?"

"Vorstag, my Thane."

"I should like to discuss the second operation with you, Vorstag. A native of Markarth would be invaluable for that—you know the people."

He nodded, then stepped to the side, leaving the other four.

"No takers for the Cidhna Mine mission?" I made my tone casual, as non-judgmental as I could make it. It's not a mission critical to success in the Reach, and I can hardly blame them for it. No one escapes Cidhna mine.

Each face was etched with the kind of consideration born of being squeezed between two ideas: courage in the face of the unpleasant versus the unpleasant which might be worse than imagined.

"I'll do it." The voice that piped up was a lad standing to the back of the group, about eighteen or nineteen, skinny and a little nervous-looking. The youngest and smallest, he looked startled by his own courage.

"Are you certain? No one will think less of you—it's an unsavory operation."

The lad shifted. "I'm not much of a fighter, but it sounds like that's not something you want," he admitted. "I'll do it. Whatever it is."

I didn't like the idea of sending this little scrap of humanity into a task such as this. However, Avulstein wouldn't have sent him to me if he didn't have confidence that the lad could handle whatever was dished out—and both Avulstein's and Thorald's choices suggested they were aware that this wasn't something just any fighter could handle.

"Very well. Your name?"

"Ingmar, my Thane."

"Thank you, gentlemen, lady. Ingmar, if you and Vorstag would remain?" I showed the others out. "Now, let us discuss the intricacies. May I offer you a drink?"

-L-

(Delivered by message hawk)

5 Rain's Hand

Dead Man's Drink, Falkreath

To Lady Grey,

My contract in Falkreath has concluded satisfactorily. I took the lads through Embershard, which had been overrun by unsavory sorts. If anyone survived it was because they weren't there—I left two of the lads to keep an eye on the place in case there were survivors. Please find enclosed a note from your friend Valga, who prevailed upon me to send it along. I should note that Valga makes the most excellent bread I've ever had the pleasure of eating.

The steward also encloses a note for you.

Yours,

Geirlund

-L-

(Appended to Geirlund's letter, delivered by message hawk)

5 Rain's Hand

Dead Man's Drink, Falkreath

Dear Leandra—

Imagine my surprise when your lads showed up, polite as you please and so unexpectedly! The next morning Geirlund presents himself and says I'm to take a goodwill tithe to the Jarl and tell him his bandit problem has been solved—and please take all the credit, as it's my troubles he's here to fix. Such a charming lad. He thinks I can safely release my hired muscle, and I'm inclined to trust his opinion on the matter.

I won't lie, I don't think Siddgeir has stopped being silly, but Nenya must have been softening him up because he's not acting silly. She brought me a tax reprieve that same afternoon. With a little steady business, I think affairs will more than right themselves—I may be able to hire Tekla away after all. Keep our fingers crossed.

I want to thank you again, dear, for all your help. It was unexpected, and I'm very grateful. I'll ask Geirlund to leave me your address; if there's anything I can ever do for you—because I don't doubt hiring Geirlund and his lads was a dent in your purse—let me know.

Your friend,

Valga Vinicia

-L-

(Appended to Geirlund's letter, delivered by message hawk. Wax seal of Falkreath still intact.)

Rain's Hand 5

From the Court of Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath

To Madame Leandra Grey—or so your proxy called you,

Being in receipt of service as agreed upon, the property of Lakeview has come onto the market and is being held for you. I'm afraid the best I can do is to hold it and offer a reduced price of purchase—2,360s. I know I hinted otherwise, but I'm afraid the Jarl has started frowning at his books again with the mine ready to reopen and begin producing again. You should be aware, however, that the price listed above is half the last price paid and less the 'tithe' your proxy offered. Again, I do beg your pardon; I know it looks as though I was less than honest with you, but judge for yourself if I haven't done all that could be done.

Yours sincerely,

Steward Nenya, on behalf of Jarl Siddgeir

-L-

(Delivered by message hawk)

7 Rain's Hand

House Grey-Mane, Whiterun

Cousin Geirlund,

Your letter made me smile—such cleverness on your part. Please give Nenya any of the remaining funds from the raid on Embershard for Lakeview.

That part of your unit that remains to you is to remove itself to the property known as Lakeview. Some little way south is a dilapidated shack known as Pinewatch. There is reason to believe more bandits—possibly having some connection to those squatting in Embershard Mine—have either entrenched themselves or simply frequent the place. Investigate and, if possible, exterminate them. Take your time; Lakeview is important to me. Proceeds from the raid shall go to expenses incurred by your unit. The rest are to be given to steward Nenya as payment towards obtaining Lakeview.

Yours,

Lady Grey

P.S. How are you at building a house, or do you know anyone in that profession?