Hello guys! A Nelkir chapter. Hopefully you'll like it. Next up is a Jon chapter, which is proving to be very fun to write, as always.

The thanks; To Blade Agent99, thanks for the review! Ah, shit. The inn thing is my fault. I'm glad you like Aventus, and Selina really is cynical. I just hope that the romance in Nelkir's chapter is major enough to become fairly central, because it's quite an important aspect of his POV's for a little bit (though don't worry; there won't be any teenage angst.) That said, there will be no Aventus and Selina romance, so that's okay. Oh, and the surcaot thing makes sense, but we'll see. To Foacir, I'm glad you liked Aventus' introduction. Well, I needed a sidekick, as always. He fit the bill. To Guest, thanks for the review! Glad you liked it. To Devil's-Butterfly-Maid, thanks for the Story Follower and Favourite. To Omega Gilgamesh, thanks for the Story Favourite. To That Guy, thanks for the review. I'm pleased that you think it's 'really cool.' To Delphine hater, thanks for the review! I can't say who is the contact, but you'll find out eventually. Clavicus will return soon. The Dominion has moved its forces into Cyrodiil. You'll find out in the next Casta chapter, which will be a battle. Thanks to everyone for the support. Please review!

First up; let's try and get to 400 reviews! It's my birthday soon, so that would be great. In other news, for those of you who have been waiting for action, you'll see a lot very soon. I realise things have been pretty chatty, so I'll put in some blood and gore every soon, starting with the major Stormcloak-Silver-Blood battle (which is like a Battle of the Blackwater importance moment. If this was a TV Series they'd need to get the budget up to shoot it.) Anyway, I hope you like this. And yes, Esbern is alive.

Nelkir, of Solitude

The sword came down heavily, knocking his arm to the ground with a numbing crunch, before twisted round to swing at his head. Nelkir White ducked under it, feeling the blunt steel lift his hair lightly with a thin whistling trail of sound, before twisting to meet his own steel with that of his opponent's.

'Guard up, Solitude!' shouted Carl Damon Herrifield, their Master-At-Arms.

Nelkir gritted his teeth in acknowledgment and raised his sword, each of his opponent's strikes jarring as they exchanged a flurry of blows, all weaker than the last. He's slowing. With a burst of speed the Bastard moved forward, locking his opponent's sword in his own before sweeping out his leg, sending his enemy crashing to the ground. Nelkir slammed his foot onto his opponent's throat and levelled his sword at his chest. Carrion smiled grimly, pushing away his blade.
'You got me good, Solitude.'
Nelkir rested his sword tip on the ground and offered the Breton a hand. 'You got me better yesterday.'
Carrion stood, rubbing his throat. 'I don't remember that.'
'I wouldn't flatter you without cause,' Nelkir assured him, slightly coldly.
Carrion eyed him with a strange look. 'I bet.'
'Done, ladies?' It was Carl Damon Herrifield, a second son of some minor clan. Even in the Blades, the traditions of the races held, and each man kept his titles and names, although Nordic culture was definitely best held, probably because the Blade Master was a Nord, and the fact they made up a decent sixty percent of the people here. 'Put away your swords and report to Caladis. He'll assign you your tasks.' Damon was a fair Master-At-Arms, but unyielding, so no one dragged their feet while putting away his precious 'ladies', his preferred name for the swords. Even if they are cheap, blunted knock offs, Nelkir reflected, turning the blade in his hand.
He hung up his sword on the rack and turned, before almost colliding with Marco.
'Watch it, Nelkir,' the imperial said, pushing off the larger Nord.
Solitude smiled and stepped back, turning back to his sword to make sure it was in place. 'What were you doing?'

'Sent to archery,' Marco complained. 'I swear those bows are meant for men the size of mountains,' he gave the Nord an annoyed look; 'with the muscles to go with it. I prefer the bloody sword!' he cried, shaking a practice dummy as if it was one of the senior Blades members. Nelkir chuckled and started to walk out, making his way through the halls of Sky Haven Temple. Caladis and Marco followed, joking about something.

The temple itself, as with most things in Skyrim, was actually a fortress given a fancy name. The stone work was ancient, and solid. It was built right into a mountain in the Karth Region, situated within The Reach. The temple had been built as an Akaviri fortress during the First Century by the original Blades. It had only been rediscovered a decade ago, by Jon Stormcloak and the last of the ancient order. The man seems to follow me. Nelkir wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

It had been an easy thing to join the Blades. After he had recovered from his wounds, much to the surprise of the healers, he had been taken on a recruit. Nelkir had nowhere else to go, and this place offered the chance of a new beginning, something he sorely needed. Marco had stuck to him, something the Bastard had been immensely relieved about; he needed a friend. Ironically, that was not what he lacked anymore. Without his bastard surname, it had been easy to connect with his fellows and most of the prisoners he had rescued had joined the Blades as well. After all, whatever else had happened, they were still convicts with pasts that they wanted to leave behind. It's strange how a certain type of situation could change a man, Nelkir reflected quietly.

They passed through the corridors, past granite engravings and glowing braziers. Nelkir had to admit that spending so much time underground was oppressive; light poured in from the halls at the top of the mountain, and the practice arena itself was situated on a rocky bluff overlooking The Reach, but even so, Nelkir couldn't help having a feeling that he was being steadily crushed. Maybe that's just the oaths though. The Blades commanded loyalty from their members.
Nelkir pushed open the door into the Steward, Caladis', study which was large and spacious. Sky Haven only had one Steward, who oversaw the general working of the fortress, and one Healer, who was assisted by aides. The Blades also catered for a Wizard, though no one saw him, in addition to traditional Blade ranks, such as First Sword, First Shadow, First Archivist and Master, who oversaw the entire order in a province. And then of course there was the Grandmaster, the title held by Jon Stormcloak, as the Dragonborn. From what Nelkir heard, he rarely visited, which the Bastard was pleased about. He didn't feel like showing off to Stormcloak about his new life. After Jarl Jon's death, one of his sons would take over as Grandmaster, as specified by their link to the Dragonblood.

Nelkir put the thoughts from his mind as he shuffled forward in the queue. There were about ten new recruits, and every afternoon they were assigned to a different task to determine where their strengths lay, so that they might be matched to the correct area within the Blades. Arras, the thief from their escape, shot Solitude a black look as he made his way past, one that Nelkir returned in kind.
'I hope I get put on hunting duty.' Nelkir glanced back to see Farmin, a lithe Redguard, grinning round at them. He was the best fighter among them, which had annoyed Marco to no end; he had wanted to have that honour, but after the Redguard had bested him a month ago, it had been obvious who the superior swordsman was.

Nelkir sighed, but said nothing. Carrion spoke for him. 'You always want to go hunting.'

Farmin shrugged. 'It's fun, out in the open. I better get put in the Swords when this finally comes to head.'

'Everyone wants to go into the Swords,' Carrion objected. 'Doesn't mean any of us will.'

'You're joking?' Marco asked, raising his eyebrow. 'He's the best sword among us.' Nelkir could testify to that; he still had the bruises. 'Anyway, the Shadows aren't that bad. They're the real heart of the Blades.' No one could object to that; they went around Tamriel, spying on the enemy and taking them down discreetly. They were too sneaky for Nelkir's taste though, like some second hand Dark Brotherhood.

'Next.' The Bastard stepped up to Caladis' desk, where he was peering at some parchment. 'Nelkir of Solitude, yes?' The Bastard nodded and he looked down at the parchment. 'You'll be assisting Master Esbern.'

That surprised him. He stepped away from the desk, a little bemused as his friends began jeering. 'Have fun with the old man. You'll be sitting reading to him!' Farmin joked.

'Enough,' snapped Caladis. 'Don't speak like that about the Master.'

Farmin nodded, cowed and shuffled up to be assigned. Nelkir gave them a nod and strode down the corridors, wondering where the hell he was going. From all accounts Master Esbern had been capable, but he was seventy now, possibly the oldest man alive, and somewhat doddery. As a result, Nelkir wasn't too enthusiastic about his placement; it wouldn't be fun, or interesting.

Suddenly, a shape entered his vision. He tried to stop, but they went sprawling to the floor. Nelkir snapped back to reality painfully; his elbow had landed on the hard concrete. He let out a curse and rubbed it before he noticed the girl next to him.

She was dressed in light wool, not the dark blue of the Blades, and she carried a roll of parchment in one hand. Her eyes were what struck Nelkir first; they were a deep purple, and burned fiercely like a raging fire, yet still soft, like a pool of clear water. Otherwise she was forgettable. Her dark hair was tied back, and her thin face wasn't exactly beautiful.

'What the hell was that?'

'Huh?' Nelkir didn't know what else to say. Her voice had a pleasant lilt.

'Why did you knock me over?' she demanded.

'Well, I…' The bastard frowned. He wasn't normally lost for words. 'Well, I-'

She stood, and brushed herself off. 'It'd better be good.'

Nelkir stood as well, towering over her. She was short for a Nord. Her figure was plain as well; small breasts, narrow hips. She can't have been more than sixteen. 'It is a good excuse,' Nelkir said, rubbing his neck. 'It's so good you'll be lost for words, when I think it up.'

The girl stared at him strangely, before laughing suddenly, like a summer rain. Nelkir was taken aback. He decided that she was annoying, and that he didn't like her. The girl managed to control herself, fixing a hard expression to her face. 'You owe me now.' Nelkir just blinked. What the hell is wrong with me? I should just ignore her, he decided resolutely. But he was already nodding. 'Good,' she confirmed happily, binding him to his promise. 'Can you take me to this place? I'm new here.' Wasn't I going to see the Master? It didn't matter now. She held out the parchment, shoving it into Nelkir's face. He swiped it from her hand, eyeing her carefully. She was a definitely a Nord, like himself, with an infectious personality. She couldn't seem to stay still.

Nelkir looked down at the parchment, which turned out to be an exceptionally bad map. 'They gave you this?' he questioned, turning it over in his hand.

'Yeah, it's crap. I've been wandering for about ten minutes. I was actually trying to find the Steward.'

Nelkir nodded. 'I was just with him. I'll trade you the map for my help.' After all, he needed some way to find Master Esbern without having to ask anyone.

'Go ahead,' she said brightly, having already forgiven his knocking her over. They started walking and she held out her hand, catching Nelkir by surprise. 'My name's Thaena.'

'Nelkir, of Solitude,' he said slowly, taking her hand. The grip was again nothing special.

'Solitude, huh?' Thaena's eyes took on a concentrated light. 'I used to live in Solitude. In one of the smaller houses.'

'That's me too,' Nelkir lied quickly.

'Really?' She put a finger to her lips, as if trying to indicate something. 'You have a nice voice. It's strong, but quite posh.'

Solitude looked away quickly, trying to suppress the rush of emotions that threatened to flood his mind in an explosion of pride, and… gratitude for the compliment. 'I spent a lot of time around a carl. I was his servant,' he explained briefly.

'Right,' she agreed, not sounding at all convinced. Clearly Thaena was smarter than his friends, who had probably never met a noble, or weren't Nords. 'Well, I lived in that area as well. I'm surprised I don't know you. I met almost everyone in that city,' she confided with him. Nelkir reflected on how quickly her mood had changed. It was… exhilarating.

Suddenly, they were there, which was a welcome relief. 'This is it,' the Bastard told her quickly, trying to remove unpleasant thoughts from his mind.

Thaena looked the door over with a dubious glare, before turning back to Nelkir. 'I'm sure we'll meet again. Until then… Nelkir Solitude.' And then she entered the door, closing it behind her.

The Bastard stepped back with a frown, confused. He shook his head and tried to follow the map to the Master's quarters. It was indeed crap, but Nelkir managed to decipher it, arriving five minutes after the time that he was probably expected to have been there. He knocked on the door once, and waited. The reply was slow, but came out in a great booming voice.

'Enter!'

Nelkir pushed the door open, taking in the massive size of the room first, noting the door that led to the Master's personal quarters, before turning his attention to the man himself. Esbern was another Nord, also short by their standards like Thaena, with a bush of white hair on the back of his head, but none on the front, and a craggy face. He was wearing dark blue robes, and a dagger, all of which was clean and neat. He looked up.

'Ah, yes? Close the door, my boy. Sit over here if you will.' Nelkir did as he bid, making his way over cautiously. 'Ah yes,' he murmured again. 'Not a good thing I think.'

'My lord?' The Bastard asked. It was also wise to be careful around nobles and leaders.

Esbern snapped up. 'Excuse me?' He glanced down at the parchment. 'Oh, my apologies. Feel free to read it.' He nearly passed the letter over, but then took it back. 'I don't suppose you can read though.'

Nelkir felt a flash of anger before he remembered his supposed status; he was a peasant. Likely as not, he couldn't read. 'No, my lord.'

'No matter. We can teach you,' Esbern said kindly. Nelkir nodded a little sceptically; the Master did indeed appear to be a bit of a doddery old man.

The Bastard waited, but still Esbern said nothing, so he ventured a response carefully. 'Why am I here, my lord?'

'Well, because I called you here of course!' he replied triumphantly.

'Why?'

Esbern leant closer. 'I've seen you in the yard, and at dinner. I've also heard of your remarkable entrance. Needless to say, you've intrigued me.'

'But Farmin's the better sword, and I'm not the speaker at dinner,' Nelkir pointed out.

'No, but you're the leader.' The Bastard was taken aback by this simple comment, but it was true, wasn't it? He was the leader of their group. He had drawn them together, and held them there. 'I have an interest in leaders,' Esbern prattled on. 'I've seen many. The late Emperor Titus Mede II, Ulfric Stormcloak, Jon Stormcloak, his son…'

'I know Jon Stormcloak,' Nelkir blurted out before he could stop himself. Why did everything seem to lead to that man?

Esbern frowned. 'I thought you came from Solitude?'

'I do, it's just, he,' Nelkir fumbled for a response; 'let me stay at his camp once, while I was travelling here.' The Bastard cursed his impulsive stupidity.

The Master didn't say anything. He just eyed Nelkir carefully. 'In any case, I think you have a bright future. You know the Blades are sworn to protect the Dragonborn.'

'I thought we fought the Thalmor.'

Esbern grimaced, as if remembering painful memories. 'An unfortunate distraction.' He noticed Nelkir's expression, and turned suddenly sharp. The Bastard couldn't guess at what had caused this change, even as he studied the other Nord intently. 'They are powerful, and dangerous,' Esbern continued; 'but we are sworn to protect the dragonblood. I sent the Dragonguard out to Jon now that the war has started, as is our true duty.'

'Wait! There's a war? What war?' Nelkir demanded, shocked. News was reserved for the inducted Blades, not the recruits, and they were careful at guarding it.

Esbern regarded him carefully again. 'It really is none of your concern.'

'But I want to know,' Nelkir told him forcedly. 'My lord,' he added clumsily.

'Determination,' the Master mused. 'A strong trait.' He made up his mind. 'I am sorry, my boy, but a civil war has broken out. Hmm, yes, dark tidings indeed,' he mused to himself, before turning back to Nelkir. 'I received the word from Jon's own hand. The last time we had one of these…' he lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

'You mean Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion?'

Esbern gave him a surprised look. 'A learned peasant, and a leader. What am I to make of you? Where did you learn that?'

Nelkir could have punched himself for his carelessness. 'You hear talk,' he explained shortly.

'Did you ever play as Ulfric Stormcloak?' Esbern asked with an amused smile. 'I hear the boys like to run around as General Tullius, and Jon Stormcloak, even our good king. Balgruuf.'

Nelkir scowled. 'With all due respect, my lord, I don't think that's your business.'

'It's not,' Esbern agreed, nodding vigorously. 'But I like to ask anyway.' They sat in silence for a few seconds, before the Master turned his attention to what he was presumably planning in the first place. 'I would like you to clean my room, and then I was going to go through some accounts with you. Show you how things are run, and managed. You know numbers?' Nelkir nodded. Even a peasant was given a rudimentary education into them. 'Good.'

The Bastard stood and got to work. The cleaning was dire, but not as bad as it could have been. Even as he worked, dusting a corner, a thought entered his mind. It jostled the others to the back, forcing its unwelcome way forward. Thaena. Try as he might, Nelkir couldn't push her from his mind. It was like a summer storm, raging outside window. No matter how much you tried to ignore it, it invaded your privacy; it stuck. Which was strange for something so… forgettable.

Please review guys. Er, I feel like I should say something funny. How about; why did the two knights crossed the road? Because they were on opposite sides! (You know, to fight, and er… yeah, well. I'm sorry. I won't do that again.)