The Things Bards Sing About (I)

Ulfric Stormcloak had elected to taken a rather roundabout path to Riften, against the advice of Galmar. Despite the old Nord's valiant proclamations over the need to conserve the men's energy and hurry the pace so they could reach the Hold more quickly, Ulfric had chosen curiosity over safety.

Visiting Whiterun was a dangerous proposition – Maven had assured him that those cannibals would prove friendly to his forces, but Ulfric understood their underlying nature – and subsequently fought against the urge to befriend them. So far, the thirty or so elite warriors he had brought with him were still alive and well – none of the cannibals seemed interested in feeding in any case.

What was truly unsettling was Ulfric's lack of knowledge over any of their names. The Khajiit seldom talked to him, relegating him and his men to a large tent just outside what was formerly Pelagia Farms – the building was abandoned, and Ulfric guessed the previous owner to have been dead or captured. The tent itself was complete with furnished tables and thick bedrolls situated nearby. It could house them comfortably – but other than providing food and water, little interaction between the groups was there. They had been there for just a few hours, but already Ulfric could sense a coldness from them – the Khajiit were professional and coldly courteous... he wondered how much Maven had paid them to cooperate reluctantly with him.

Watching his band of warriors drink and sing merry songs, Ulfric bowed himself out without notice, pushing open the long white flaps of the tent before immersing himself into cool moonlight. The strong reflection cast by his steel armor caught the eye of a nearby Khajiit dressed in a dark robe, who promptly chuckled before walking to Ulfric's side.

"Beauty, isn't it?" the Khajiit asked, staring at Whiterun.

Ulfric followed his eye movements towards the distant horizon, glimpsing the entire city. Whiterun didn't look beautiful at all.

In the illuminating waves of moonlight shining above and in front of him, the great Hold once known as the shimmering heart of Skyrim appeared deflated and changed – the tall walls bordering the city were completely covered with what Ulfric assumed to be dark grey banners, with a fine red finish visible even from this distance. The entrance appeared lifeless and mostly devoid of description – Ulfric could only guess that most of the Khajiit (and whichever citizens they chose to spare) were living inside the city, seemingly impenetrable from his viewpoint with all the wooden barricades and additional Khajiit positioned at the entrances...

"What happens inside?" Ulfric questioned, knowing better.

The Khajiit laughed. "We eat some fishies. We play with some fishies. Mostly – we just live there. Master Maven said we could keep it."

"Keep which?" Ulfric pushed. "The city or the – fishies?"

He felt disgusting just saying that.

"Both," the Khajiit happily proclaimed. "We're thinking about renaming the entire thing..."

"I never got to say congratulations, and give thanks," Ulfric broke in. "For getting this. It's – been helpful to our cause."

"You've scratched our backs as well," the Khajiit responded. "With your inaction – we now have a Hold full of the tastiest fishies... well, the ones that are still alive anyway..."

The Khajiit flashed a mirthless grin, mechanically moving his mouth in revolting, horribly accurate chomping noises.

"Good," Ulfric stuttered, unsure of what to say. "Very – erm, good..."

"When will you leave us?" the Khajiit queried immediately. "And where are you off to?"

"Probably by noon tomorrow," Ulfric answered. "And that – is not your concern."

He had to do this. Ulfric wasn't sure how many informants were within their group, and how many of them would tip off Maven before he and his men had a chance to reach Riften first.

"Private fishy," the Khajiit suddenly antagonized, smiling ominously. "Good policies..."

Ulfric suppressed an urge to retaliate, aware that the Khajiit had several thousand men compared to his thirty. He headed back to the delusion of safety that was the tent, leaving the smiling Khajiit slightly excited but restrained behind him.

. . .

"Lydia."

"What?"

"Your feet."

She startled and looked down, seeing two wrinkled feet shake considerably underneath cool streams of water. She at once removed them, putting on her boots before moving away from the river she was sitting by. The moonlight bounced around the air, showing hills and gigantic boulders nearby – as well as a dirt trail and the resting figures of all her companions, lying lazily on bedrolls next to their horses. Lydia wished she could have found a more isolated, warmer place to sleep for them. According to her map, they were somewhere near the river, with Honningbrew Meadery on the other distant side of the water.

"Do a quick head count?" Tullius asked, sitting down next to her.

Lydia sighed. "Thirty-five Riften guards still here, five of my hand-chosen citizens still here, and only twenty Imperial soldiers here..."

"Sorry again," Tullius reclaimed. "I – I sincerely thought I could get more of them. I mean – we traveled for ten days, almost non-stop... I had hoped – "

"You promised me fifty," Lydia restated, seemingly bored of repeating this. "And you give me less than half that."

"I was hoping Fort Amol would have more," Tullius noted. "But as you remember, nothing but bandits and dead horses..."

She sighed again. "I suppose it's not your fault. The way Skyrim's going these days..."

"Everyone says that!" Tullius reprimanded. "Skyrim this, Skyrim that! Where's your loyalty?"

Lydia shook her head, vision drawn to the just-visible outline of Whiterun, appearing grey and faded in the distance. The previous hustle of life that was omnipresent in the city didn't appear to exist anymore – no travelers had emerged from the trail leading away from Whiterun, and the giant Hold appeared to be in a deathly, silent state. If the moonlight wasn't there, Lydia wouldn't have even guessed they had reached the city.

"It used to be so beautiful," Lydia bit back, eyes tracing the hazy ridges of the city walls.

"Think anyone's still alive in there?" Tullius questioned, seeing the Hold with Lydia. "I mean – considering how many of those freaks are inside with them..."

"I just hope Balgruuf's still alive," Lydia honestly broke in, unable to contain herself. "He – he's been a good friend to me. I couldn't imagine coming all this way – "

"Don't get your hopes up," Tullius corrected. "Lydia... we don't know his state still."

"I know," Lydia agreed. "But I just wish that he is. Illogical but – comforting, I suppose."

She turned to Tullius, observing those aged features with half-healed injuries sympathetically.

"You know we'll be in combat by tomorrow morning," Lydia recognized. "You want to sit this one out? You barely escaped from their clutches..."

"I'd rather kill these bastards and get my revenge," Tullius spat. "Never heard of such – evil men. I'd die fighting than hiding."

"Righteous ego will never win a battle," Lydia advised, still fixated by Whiterun's outline. "Believe me – I've been through that."

"Speaking of which, how sure are you?" Tullius intervened.

Lydia smiled. "Sure of what?"

"Sure that this'll all work out in the end," Tullius affirmed. "Sure that we'll win. You know how much of an advantage in numbers they have..."

"Doesn't matter," Lydia mentioned. "I have a plan."

"Mind telling me?" Tullius annoyingly asked. "Mind telling any of our men?"

"My men," Lydia forced. "But yes – stealth is key."

"Elaborate?"

"There's probably about a good five hundred Khajiit stationed outside the city," Lydia mapped out. "They're in disconnected groups... we can take them all out quietly without alerting any others."

"Okay, five hundred gone," Tullius agreed with the logic. "What about inside the city?"

"Assuming estimates are right, there'll be another fifteen hundred – the bulk of their army, packed into the city," Lydia quoted.

"So they're not disconnected. No chance of stealth there."

"Not exactly," Lydia corrected. "We'll need to attack them in the very early morning, when most are asleep and can't counter any magic or arrows – because if they do, we're in for a long, bloody battle."

Tullius nodded. Lydia continued. "So then I go into the Hold first, while you all wait underneath the ground."

"What?" Tullius immediately questioned.

Lydia chuckled. "It's an old-fashioned trick in warfare. Hide our men underneath the ground."

"Then wait for what?"

"I'll be inside the Hold," Lydia enforced. "I figure with a grand fire spell of mine, I can finish off at least five hundred of them..."

"With one spell?" Tullius restated. "Really?"

"That's the point," Lydia returned. "I won't be able to do much magic after that – in fact, I'll come running outside."

"And they'll all chase you," Tullius remarked. "Then we pop out?"

"Again, not exactly," Lydia disagreed. "After I lead them across a certain point, only the two mages will pop up – Tulso and the Redguard woman – and they'll attack the cannibals from behind."

"Ingenious!" Tullius exclaimed. "That's got to take care of – what, another couple hundred? They're powerful mages after all..."

"Right," Lydia agreed, happy to receive encouragement. "Then the rest of you pop out from another space, and start with arrows first..."

"Another couple hundred killed immediately," Tullius strategized. "So what, the final tally of fully alert cannibals to us is – five hundred to our sixty?"

Tullius seemed more disappointed after doing the mathematics. "Lydia – even assuming all this goes right... we're still outnumbered nearly ten to one."

"And it'll be pure sword against sword," Lydia noted. "With me and the mages probably too drained to do magic... and Talos forbid if any of the cannibals can do magic or Shouts..."

"So in our best case scenario – we have extremely long odds?"

Lydia nodded sadly. "My plan doesn't seem all that ingenious now, does it?"

Tullius frowned, then perked up his ears in sudden fear. "A noise. Lydia!"

Lydia spun about, standing up and withdrew her warhammer before relaxing. A simple courier boy was approaching her atop a small mare, recognizable by the clear label of the Empire stamped on his long traveler's robe.

"Left Riften about two days after your group," the boy noted, huffing slightly as he made his way over to Lydia, tightly furled scroll clenched in his right fist. "You all moved quickly, Dragonborn. Nearly missed you all."

Lydia nodded gruffly. "A message? From Riften?"

"Indeed," the boy noted. "Here."

Lydia accepted the small scroll, watching the courier boy take a moment to catch his breath before proceeding back in the opposite direction, annoying his horse.

"Poor boy," Tullius noted. "Has to go all the way back now."

"Couriers are richer than you'd think," Lydia corrected, unfurling the scroll and squinting at the letters written – apparently in deep fright, judging by the irregular composition and awkward grammar.

Lydia,

Maven trying to buy me. Offering private warriors and bodyguards as bribe for me – since I've lost so many of the city Guard. Is actively threatening against me and the entire Hold – implying that without a proper defense, Riften will fall to enemy forces. Thieves' Guild resurfacing. I feel like some piece in her game.

"Damn it," Lydia exclaimed, earning a look of disapproval from Tullius as he similarly read over the letter.

She lost her grand daughter some time last week. Appears to be vengeful – towards you, for some odd reason. Implying more evil things to happen to both of us. Look out for yourself, and keep yourself sharp out there.

I know you're occupied with taking back Whiterun at the moment. Hope this letter reaches you after all that is resolved (and I know you will). Sorry to seem like such a nagging friend – but I need you. More than ever.

Friend in need,

Laila

"By Talos," Tullius broke in. "The stupid woman can't run a Hold for a few weeks without it all going to Sovngarde. And the pressure you're being put under! The stress, and you're not even done with – "

Lydia was tuning out most of his words. She was agreeing with Tullius every sentence of the way, but was too lost in her own thoughts to analyze them.

"One problem at a time," she centered, grasping Tullius on the shoulder. "That's how this operates."

She shoved the paper into her pockets, shutting her eyes and attempting to rid herself of what was there, in preparation of what was to come.

A/N

As you've probably noticed, no Brom section! I think after the revelation that he's in Whiterun came out, there's no other significant development to tell (everything that's happening to can probably be inferred now) – and most of you can probably predict at least one thing that's happening next chapter :)

I think Whiterun is a nice way to focus back all the conflict in the story, but as I've told before – this story has 50 chapters, with 38 done – so even after the whole Whiterun arc is over with, it won't be over... until chapter 50, that is. And don't worry, I won't keep the story predictable in any sense of the word...

In fact, there's a lot of tension building up, and a lot of characters in Whiterun now – hope everyone's looking forward to the next chapter! And as usual, feel free to read past chapters if feeling lost – I make a lot of callbacks and re-read from time to time to make sure everything is continuous...

As always, I'd appreciate any support, and thank you for the view. Forge on!

~TW