Author's Note: Sorry this is a little late! Also, special thanks as always to the wonderful 16DarkMidnight80, who goes over these chapters.

-L-

Valga burst into the Jarl's Longhouse, the vehemence possibly to cover her own unease, stormed up to the throne and stood before it, glowering at the few officers who remained there. Most of them seemed to have been in the middle of doing nothing important, for they stood in clusters, gaping at this new arrival.

"I am Jarl Valga Vinicia." Her voice wobbled a little, but as she gained momentum it evened out. "If you have business in my court, bring it forward. If not, I expect you to depart immediately." With that, she plopped into her throne, fingers stiff as she resisted the urge to curl them into fists.

"No lollygagging," Helvard declared, positioning himself forward and to the right of Valga's throne, hand on his weapon, expression hard. Everything about him seemed to radiate that what happened to the last Jarl wouldn't happen to this one. He'd sleep across her doorway if he had to.

Luckily, I'm not after Valga. Helvard could make things very difficult if he had a mind to.

"You? The Jarl? An innkeeper?" one of the Legionnaires—I recognized the indications on his uniform that here was the idiot in charge—demanded, sounding appalled.

"It was confirmed by a majority of the citizens," Nenya declared as she sailed in, tall, imperious, and completely sure of the Jarl being on her side. "In Skyrim, we require little else, circumstances being what they are."

"That's absurd! The High Queen—"

"There is no High Queen," Nenya retorted, with all the grace of a dueling master delivering a perfect riposte. "As you very well know."

Wow. Why does she need me again?

"There is no High King. We have a hostile army on our doorstep… and in our back garden," Nenya continued, giving the Commander a look of dire distaste.

Ouch. The Commander's face went blotchy red at this classification of being a hostile force.

"There is no authority to ask to bless this transfer of power, but you, Commander, do not have the authority to prevent it. You're a soldier of the Empire and a citizen of Cyrodiil, if I'm not mistaken. I'm sorry to say that your voice does not count in local politics and never has. Now, have you business with the Jarl? You're delaying the Thanes of the Hold offering her their fealty." Nenya folded her hands behind her expectantly.

This change of events was clearly so far beyond anything the Commander expected that he withdrew his men—leaving their things—immediately.

"Shall I have the house guard return the Legion their belongings, my Jarl?" Nenya asked deferentially, but with a hint of malicious amusement. I think telling the Commander he was nobody—just some foreigner—really did her soul good.

"Yes, yes, please. Thank you, Nenya," Valga swallowed hard, caught between amusement and nerves.

Nenya had it done in seconds, the three men selected to pick up the bedrolls and various articles the Legion clearly intended to come back to (as opposed to for) hastened about their task with the air of men glad to get this garbage out of the longhouse. I imagine they'll just dump this stuff like the trash it is and let the Legion sort out what belongs to whom.

"Now, the Thanes of Falkreath must pledge themselves to the new Jarl. Gentlemen?" Nenya prompted smoothly.

Thadgeir went first, and I couldn't help but think he was rather glad not to have been catapulted to the position of Jarl himself, since he belonged to the Jarl's family tree.

The two other fellows obeyed, but seemed to be rather in a daze bout what all this meant for them. They were, after all, Siddgeir's partners in crime. Now, the leadership might not take kindly to it.

"If I may, my Jarl? I should like to entreat you to bestow the position of Thane on Leandra Grey, who has been a great friend to Falkreath… and will continue to be so in these troubled times. It wouldn't do, for instance, to ask a non-citizen of Falkreath to treat with the Stormcloak army," Nenya declared.

Valga glanced from Nenya to me.

"Nenya believes I might be able to convince the Stormcloaks that Falkreath's position is not with the Legion, but that you are, after a fashion, besieged," I answered humbly. "It was her hope that I might make a way for the people of Falkreath to be spared the coming battle, as they wish no part in it."

"Do you think you could?" she asked breathlessly. I could see it in her eyes, the calculation of everything she knew about me, and everything she'd ever heard about the Stormcloaks. She looked like one who had faith in my abilities to talk people into things… but worried that the Stormcloaks might not be interested in talking.

I looked at the floor, feigning uncertainty. "I will try."

"Try?" one of the Thanes sneered. They hadn't been announced by name, more like students being pulled up before a strict headmaster who already knew who they were. "That's a fine word to employ. You tried, of course."

"Would you wish to try in her stead?" Valga asked mildly. "I have great faith in Leandra's attempts at 'trying' to do anything. She is merely modest when she says such things. Those of us who know her, know this."

The Thane looked wrong-footed.

"I'm not sure I would trust him to try," I offered blandly. "He's one of Siddgeir's appointees, and Siddgeir was quite pro-Empire. A clever man, an ambitious man, might forsake the needs of Falkreath's people to further his own."

A cynical smile curved Nenya's lips as she regarded the Thane in question. Ah, so she's harboring similar concerns. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised: I'm subtle, and she's got me pegged, after all.

Daggers were glared in my direction. "How dare you?" he asked in a low hiss.

"I have made no accusations, sir. I merely state a fact," I responded with a shrug. "I am an observant woman, and if my Jarl requires that I take up the mantle of responsibility that is being Thane, then she would expect me to point out those things I observe impartially."

The other Thane, who seemed a little more educated than his fellow, cleared his throat. "My Jarl… I disagree. This woman may believe she has Falkreath's best interests at heart, but there is no profit in opposing the Empire… or the Legion." He did his best to sound reasonable.

"And what would you suggest?" Valga asked, drumming her fingers on the arm of her throne. "When the Legion straddles Falkreath, intent on bringing the fighting into our midst, against our wishes? Do you honestly think the Stormcloak army is so small that fifty men of the Legion and our own people could stop them?"

By now, the first Thane looked like a rat caught on a sinking ship.

"Do you think that the Legion could, or would, send reinforcements in a timely manner, when the Stormcloaks are but a few hours away?" Valga pressed.

"…"

"I'm waiting for an answer, Thane," she added, after several silent moments passed.

"It is better to hold to our convictions—"

"Your convictions," Valga said coldly. "The people of Falkreath have spoken, and what they say is this: they want no part in the hostilities being forced upon us. The general opinion is that Falkreath is not strategically significant; if it weren't for the Legion, the Stormcloaks wouldn't bother swinging this far south on their march to Markarth. We can count on them being annoyed with us at this detour they're forced to make because of the previous regime's decisions."

Valga paused to take a deep breath, her hands fisting on the arms of her throne. "Leandra, I accept you as Thane and entreat you, as quickly as you can, to discover what the Stormcloak army's disposition is. What must we do to avoid being caught in this fight? How can we make known that the Legion has nothing to do with our present will, but that of the previous regime?"

I curtsied politely. "I shall do what I can, my Jarl."

"Do you require company? Or guards?" Valga asked.

"For part of the way, my Jarl, thank you. I would feel better passing through the Legion's camps if a few men of Falkreath were to ensure I am able to do so, and return, safely. But no further than that, I think. An armed company might not get as far as an unarmed emissary. Merely allow me the dress befitting an emissary of Falkreath, and see me safely through the Legion's camps, and I will do all that is in my power."

-L-

I was given livery to announce myself as an emissary of Falkreath: a blue wrap to go over my clothes, a shield bearing the city's crest on my back, and a measure of white cloth to show I came in peace. Four of the house guard marched with me, letting me go on my way as soon as we were clear of the very angry Legion encampment. The rest were on the wall, ready to open fire on the Legion if they tried to stop us.

It was fear of a battle with Falkreath in the immediate that kept the Legion from trying to stop my progress.

If I didn't know people on the other end of my journey, I might have been more than a little nervous. As it was, I felt quite confident that something could be worked out.

Now, how things would stand when I got back was something else: the second Thane, the more diplomatic one, had run for the Legion's camp as soon as Valga dismissed the court to convene with Helvard and Nenya about the state of the Hold and what needed to be done—come peace or war.

I'm not surprised, and I fully expect that the Commander of the Legion, rather than depart gracefully at the Jarl's invitation, is going to make life miserable, because he's being squeezed… and because he's being squeezed, he'll do what he can to make his own position feel less tenuous.

This was the impression I formed as I walked through the Legion's camp, which now seemed to be fortifying itself on both sides, rather than just the outward-facing one.

My ears stayed open as my borrowed horse trotted along, just in case anyone sent out spies to follow me. Fortunately, they would have to be on foot, while I was mounted, so their effectiveness, if any were dispatched, would be questionable.

-L-

"So that's how the situation stands," I concluded, finally sipping the wine I'd been given when I entered Ulfric's tent. Being underground hadn't been his preference, so now that Pinewatch was a known variable for him, and the novelty had worn off, he was back with the rest of the army. I was glad of this: it would keep any young hotheads from harassing the locals out of boredom. We needed to look like the lesser of two evils here. "The best they can do is shut the gates and bunker down—but those gates won't keep an invading force out for long, once the Legion's been taken care of."

"It's not a good position to be in," Ulfric agreed, frowning at the map on the table dominating the middle of his tent. "So they sent you to see if you could convince us to untangle this knot?"

"Nenya, the steward, suspects I'm a little more highly placed than I will admit to," I answered demurely. "Her concern is for Falkreath, and Falkreath is in little position to aid us, expect by not getting underfoot. Which, I should add, they are happy to do. There is fear that the inconvenience of detouring from our march to the Reach will prompt your armies to take petty revenges on the locals."

"And the pockets of Legionnaires camped on their front and back doorstep?" Galmar asked.

"Those soldiers were invited by the previous regime, and the current regime is having trouble sending them off without trying to kick the Legion out of the Hold completely. Falkreath simply doesn't have the resources for something like that, thanks to Siddgeir's mismanagement. And I'm not so sure the Legion would permit messengers to leave. I got through because I had guards with me, and waiting on the walls."

"So, you recommend nothing that could be seen as an occupying force?" Ulfric asked.

"Not even a goodwill addition to the local garrison—unless they're Falkreath natives, and aware that they remain as Falkreath natives," I answered hastily. "Right now, if a fight were to break out, you would have some people who will fight the Legion and some who will fight everyone who looks like an aggressor. It's a mess in there."

And I'm hoping that Vorstag is having luck fomenting such an atmosphere in Markarth. I haven't heard from him since deploying the letter instructing him to cover Ingmar's attempt on Madanach's life, nor had word of Ingmar rejoining the Stormcloaks reached me yet.

"Can you convince the populace to leave the city?" Ulfric finally asked.

"I can try. They may be prevented, however. The Legion…" I shook my head. "They're not making good decisions here. And that worries me. They don't want to fight Falkreath… but they're certainly not recruiting the town's goodwill."

"If the people can't get out we need a signal," Ulfric prompted.

It didn't take long to come up with one. "I'll set fire to the local lumber mill… and if you promise to rebuild it when you meet with the Jarl, I will fund its rebuilding myself." It isn't as though the Deadwood Lumber Mill is being used to optimum efficiency—apparently, Bolund is also the foreman at the mill. Guess who put him there? "If we have trouble with Bolund—he's your supporter, but I use the term loosely, as he was also deep in the pockets of Jarl Siddgeir—we may have to deal with him in a very permanent fashion."

"I'll leave that up to your discretion."

Quite a change from 'no more unsanctioned assassinations, please.'

Nodding, I got to my feet, peering at the map. "It's my recommendation that, if the people can't get out, flatten the Legion, then request to speak to the Jarl in her own court. I've heard it said you can be quite charming when you wish, I would recommend charm rather than anything else at this point. The people need to see something other than the Imperial propaganda they've been accustomed to."

Ulfric chuckled at this, nodding as if to say he quite understood and was quite capable of turning on the charm if it benefitted the situation.

"If that's all, I should get back, see how the Legion handles a successful emissary."

"Don't take any risks, Leandra. I need you alive," Ulfric declared seriously.

It took effort not to smile sourly. "Not to worry, my lord. I have no intention of being killed before reaching Markarth, at the very least."

The singularly sour smile he returned told me he was too aware why I stipulated Markarth as 'at the earliest.' "All the same. Keep your head down."

I appreciated the thought.

-L-

"Evacuate the entire town?" Valga asked, eyes widening, hope draining from her face like water through a cracked pail. "That's his idea of…" she stopped, then shook her head, waving that I shouldn't answer this. "No, I suppose I see the reasons. I'm not sure we can do it, though."

"The Legion?" I prompted.

Valga nodded, then sighed, taking off her circlet of office to run a hand through her hair. "I think Commander Tertius would have tried a coup himself if he thought he could get away with it. He's not happy that we made entreaties to the Stormcloaks, and now their camps are fortifying against them and us. I've already had to strip one of Siddgeir's Thanes of his title."

No loss there, I'm sure; I even knew which one she was talking about, but pretended ignornace. "On what grounds?"

"Putting his personal fortunes ahead of those of the people," Valga answered acidly.

"He was caught carrying tales for the court to the Imperials," Helvard interrupted softly. "Nenya and I wanted to execute him on the spot, but Jarl Valga insisted on clemency." His tone didn't accuse her of anything, he simply stated the fact. But it was clear his opinion hadn't changed.

"I thought he half-hoped that he might be instated as Jarl if something happens to me. On an aside, I don't think you'll be allowed to leave town a second time," Valga continued, jamming the circlet back on.

"Then there's only one thing to do: pray for liberation," I answered serenely.

Valga and Nenya both regarded me with a mix of curiosity and caution, but neither questioned me. Helvard and Thadgeir (the other remaining Thane was not present) looked appalled.

"Well… well, the gods sometimes do intervene in unexpected ways," Valga said uneasily.

Nenya's gaze remained fixed on me, as if she felt certain I had a better plan than 'pray for deliverance.' She was astute enough though, not to ask me to share it when there are so many unfriendly ears about.

"If the Legion decides not to recognize your authority…"

Valga swallowed hard. "Then I suppose we will end up fighting them ourselves. They have no right to silence the people of this Hold simply for their convenience."

"Has Commander Tertius been informed of this?"

"Not yet. I think he's still hoping to avoid fighting with the townsfolk," Valga answered.

"It's a legitimate concern: the citizenry is beginning to hole up, as if for a siege… or an invasion," Nenya interjected.

"Give the word to the people," I advised. "Tell them that the best they can do for themselves is to leave town, tonight, and head for what's left of Helgen. It may be a wreck, but it's more defensible than anyplace else. Tell them to pack whatever provisions and supplies they can, but this is a question of abandoning property to save their own lives. I'm sure Ulfric won't allow his men to loot the town in our absence. Not when we've done what is reasonable to show ourselves neutral."

"A lot of good neutrality did Balgruuf," Thadgeir said, speaking for the first time.

"Falkreath is not a major Hold," Nenya pointed out. "We're not even on the road to Markarth from Whiterun."

Thadgeir twitched his shoulders.

"Put it to the people," I suggested. "It's a choice between temporarily evacuating the town and being stuck between the Legion and the Stormcloaks. I don't doubt that any reasonable tactician would split his forces and assail the Legion on both sides… catching Falkreath and its people squarely in the middle."

Valga considered all this for some time, then nodded. "And if the Legion refuses to let us leave?"

"Then everyone to his own home and bunker down. The best that can be done is not be in the way when the fighting starts." Which means I won't be finding a decent vantage point to pepper the Legion with arrows: right now, I represent Falkreath.

-L-

The Legion was regretting the hostilities they cultivated, but weren't going to budge an inch. After Valga made her announcement to the anxious Falkreath, the Legion began putting up roadblocks. Perhaps they sensed that hostages might help their position, or maybe they simply wanted an ugly scenario for propaganda reasons.

Regardless, I was at the lumber mill while Valga argued with the Commander. I couldn't hear clearly, but I got the impression he was touting safety reasons for restricting travel in and out of Falkreath—a well-worn catch-all for detaining people against their wills and with very little legitimate reason.

Despite being almost derelict, the abundance of sawdust everywhere meant plenty of tinder. A little alcohol as an accelerant, the sawdust and wood shavings, and the mill was set to go up in a blaze.

Ulfric would see the pillar of smoke and know that his men were to ride to Falkreath's rescue.

As far as my concern of the blaze spreading, that was very low. Falkreath has a lot to do with woodworking and lumber. They know how to stop a fire before it gets out of hand.

I struck the flint and tinder together, the sparks catching eagerly… a little too eagerly, truth be told. By the time anyone noticed the smoke coming from the mill, I was safely out of the immediate area. Nenya, Valga, Helvard, Thadgeir might suspect the arsonist's identity, but the rest of the town had no reason to suspect me.

I even suspected that Nenya quietly counseled Valga not to put the fire out too quickly, to find ways to let it smoke and burn. If it was the signal for help, then it needed to be allowed to do its job.

-L-

Author's Note: I know that Falkreath doesn't actually have gates… which is something I found odd in-game, given its palisade fortifications (ignoring the odd gap here and there) and the fact that it's built to be as secure as possible within surrounding the terrain. So, cheap, not very reliable gates have been written in.