The rest of that day passed in an uneventful manner. Gwilin returned the Claw and traded it for their listed supplies. They were told that the Jarl had yet to hear about the Helgen dragon attack, and that Riverwood could use some extra soldiers. So, he and Zelda came to a consensus – they had to, because the siblings were back to giving each other the silent treatment: they would go to Whiterun and inform Jarl Balgruuf of the danger.

Ary, you know I love you, but you're being a child, Gwilin inwardly chided when he received no input from her. He couldn't blame her for her treatment towards Link – they had both said fairly hurtful things about each other in the tomb. Still, the inability to cooperate as a group when they most needed to was difficult to cope with, small to say the least.

So, he and Zelda decided that they would all spend the night in the inn, which thankfully didn't lead to any more crazy feats of daring. Gwilin had unofficially been tasked with managing the money, and as soon as they were shown their room, everyone collapsed on the spot. The boys had taken the liberty of letting the girls have the bed, though Aryll refused without a word and curled up on a patch of floor next to the door. Link did the same on the opposite side of the room. Try to find a bright side, Gwilin, the Bosmer thought. At least, we're all alive. For now.

He sat at the table. Aryll almost broke her oath of silence to protest, but resigned when he shook his head. While he admired her, he had had his share of her antics for that day. Maybe that makes me a bad friend, but I just can't take any more tonight. Besides, he usually slept at the table – Temba needed someone to keep an ear out for bears, after all.

They left the inn at sunrise, just like the day before. Gwilin said nothing about his friends' sleep-talking, although they all seemed to do it. Aryll had begun begging for her life, whilst Zelda kept repeating "Yes, Father" in a melancholy tone. Link didn't talk much, but he grunted and flinched a lot. Maybe Gwilin should have been grumpy about it, but he had found himself wondering instead. If you're all so alike, why can't you get along?

The silent treatment between Link and Aryll continued from the moment they woke up and all through the journey to Whiterun. With nothing else to do, Gwilin found himself chatting with Zelda. He liked her. Despite her claims that she had fought a hundred-year war, she was so cheerful and childlike. As they walked on, she would point out different plants or landscape features she wasn't familiar with and ask questions. When Gwilin knew the answer, he would explain and an expression of understanding and appreciation would overcome her. When he didn't – and he admitted he didn't know a lot about plants – Zelda would shrug and thank him for trying. She seemed to have a thirst for knowledge, and flooded him with all kinds of inquiries about Skyrim. I wonder if this is what it's like to have a little sister, Gwilin thought. When he was younger, he had always wished that his parents would have another child so that he wouldn't be lonely. Instead, he had been sent off to become an apprentice.

I know it was for the best, but sometimes I wish…

"This is Whiterun then?" Zelda interrupted his thoughts by gesturing towards a large wall only a few yards from them now.

"I guess so. I've only heard stories about it." Gwilin's eyes scaled the height of the city, starting from the bottom of the wall and reaching towards the top of the tallest building. "Dragonsreach. That's where the Jarl lives."

"What exactly is a Jarl anyways? Is he like a king?"

"That's a little complicated," Gwilin said. "Skyrim has a high king, or at least we had one. His wife High Queen Elisif the Fair sits in his place. Anyways, the high king may rule over all of Skyrim in general, but he appoints more local rulers to oversee regional law enforcement."

"So, Jarls are sort of like governors or chiefs?"

"That's a fairly accurate statement."

"Are they, you know, well connected with their people? How well will Jarl Balgruuf take it when four strangers barge into his Keep to tell him about a dragon? Especially when you said dragons haven't been seen for hundreds of years."

"I guess it depends on the Jarl. The fact that Riverwood calls to Whiterun for aid makes me think he must care about his people. So, he must be somewhat personable. We should be fine." Honestly, he had been thinking about this as well. If Whiterun was only half a day away and it had been two-and-a-half days since the events of Helgen, why hadn't anyone in Riverwood – who clearly knew about the dragon attack – set out to tell him themselves? I hope they didn't send a bunch of strangers because they're scared of him, he thought.

Or, maybe it was because the guards weren't letting anyone through the front gates. That's what the one Imperial officer told them when they crossed the drawbridge and tried to enter the city. He was either a big softie or really bored though, because he didn't put up much of a fight when Gwilin said they were there to speak to the Jarl. For all he knows, we could be political extremists. But, he didn't complain. They were in, after all.

Aryll's stubborn resolve apparently cracked when the gates opened.

"Whoa," she mumbled. Gwilin shared in her awe. It wasn't nearly as large as Windhelm, nor was it as urban, but it was sprawling and teaming with people wandering up the sloped streets. Right next to the gate, a blacksmith was bargaining with a high-ranking soldier. A group of children ran between buildings, loudly calling out to each other. There was a market of some kind a short distance off, and a group of oddly dressed warriors was making their way towards a lofty structure. Gwilin couldn't say it was the most diverse place he had been to – after all, Windhelm had an Argonian embassy – but it was certainly the busiest and strangest he had seen in decades.

Zelda stared with her usual, wide-eyed fascination, and Link was watching her take it all in. He still wasn't speaking, but it was clear to Gwilin that he was happy that Zelda was happy.

"Everything looks so big here," Zelda said. She had a point. With all of the buildings climbing up the slopes, the rooftop of Dragonsreach had become difficult to spot.

Right then, Gwilin thought. Time to ask for directions.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" He made his way towards the blacksmith, who was saying something along the lines of "I can't fill an order that big." The soldier she had been debating glanced back in annoyance.

"Can't you see we're busy, boy?"

"Sorry. We just need directions up to Dragonsreach. The city's bigger than we thought, and we're here to petition the Jarl."

"Dragonsreach, huh?" The blacksmith smiled. "I can help you out."

"And yet you can't make a hundred more swords," the soldier muttered.

"I very well can, just not by the unreasonable deadline you have set. But, no matter. You kids are new to Whiterun, I'm guessing." She gestured for the group to approach then pointed up the main street. "Go through the marketplace and up through the Cloud District; that's the level of the city with the giant tree in the middle of the plaza. On the other side of the tree, you'll see a long and winding staircase. Follow that and you'll reach the keep."

"Thanks," said Gwilin.

"No problem. If any of you would like some extra work, come see me when you're done. With the large order the Empire is having me fill," she eyed the soldier at this comment, "I could use some extra hands. And even then, the soonest I could get a hundred swords out would be a week after this man's proposed time."

"I'll give you half a week's extra time," the soldier said.

"Don't expect a precise hundred then. I know my limits. Of course, if you are unpleased with my conditions, you can always talk to Eorlund."

"I already told you we can't afford his services."

"That's a shame. Anyways, you kids better hop to your task. I have significantly less than a hundred swords to make." As they walked away, Gwilin heard the soldier groan with exasperation.

"Fine. You win, Avenicci," he grumbled. "A week after. No extra time will be given."

"Down payment please," the blacksmith responded. Funny how we seem to run into some kind of drama everywhere we go, thought Gwilin. Everywhere we go… we've only been together for three days!

Despite the crowds of people, the marketplace wasn't that big. There were really only three stalls in the plaza in between the shops and inn. Still, it was clearly the main gathering place of the city, as pedestrians wandered back and forth, pausing to chat with friends and neighbors. A few cast some curious glances towards the party as they made their way for the steps. For a big city, they certainly seem to know who belongs here, Gwilin thought, as well as who doesn't.

The next level of the city was sparser than the first in crowds, but was filled with much larger structures. There appeared to be a kind of lodge to their right, and a temple to the left. Gwilin could see Dragonsreach on the other side of the large, leafless tree planted in the center of the square. For some reason, Link stopped and stared with a look of wonder across his face.

"They have Deku trees here too?" he asked, then glanced around the ground. "Where are the Kokiri?"

"I don't think a Deku would be growing in the middle of a city," Zelda said. "But the resemblance is uncanny."

"What's a Deku?" Gwilin asked.

"It's a type of tree in our world," explained Zelda. "They're very large and can grow for thousands of years. Some are older than the kingdom of Hyrule itself."

"Some of them can speak. The Great Deku Tree, the oldest in our world, personally raised and advised one of Hyrule's first heroes," Link said. "They're symbols of wisdom and strength."

"I don't think we have anything like that here. I'm pretty sure our trees are… well, just trees," Gwilin said.

"Even so, this one looks different from all the others." It was true. The tree towered over even the tallest of buildings, minus Dragonsreach itself, which was both tall and situated at the top of a hill. Its bark still held snatches of pure white, like that of a birch, though its shape was more oaken in appearance.

Gwilin was brought out of his reverie by a very loud shouting coming from nearby. A priest was calling on Talos at the base of the keep's steps. Seeing the bottom of the keep reminded Gwilin why they were there.

"We should keep going," he said. "Riverwood shouldn't be kept waiting."

About a hundred steps later, the ragtag band found themselves walking through two large, oak doors. He had been impressed by the city itself, but the spacious hall of Dragonsreach was just as jaw-dropping. Sunlight bathed the walls and floors with a brilliant, warm light, and the air smelled strongly of the cotton flowers found all over Skyrim's prairies.

When he glanced back at Zelda, he noticed a sort of longing in her eyes. She is a princess, he thought. Maybe this place reminds her of home.

Aryll had her own opinion.

"So much empty floor," she muttered. "What does one do with it all?"

"It's a foyer," replied Gwilin, "a common area. People gather here to talk."

"But, Dragonsreach is the Jarl's private residence."

"That doesn't mean he can't have guests."

"He can have guests, sure. But, in order to make this place feel less empty, he would have to host a party and invite everyone in Whiterun, Riverwood, and maybe Ivarstead if he were feeling generous. And even then, so much space would be wasted. And besides, how often do you think that happens? More often than not, this area just sits gathering dust." Gwilin could have responded that it was a status thing, that rich people liked space; but he knew that while his friend was in this state, appeasing her would be an impossible chore.

He felt so out of place as they continued forward. Even the servants of the court appeared to be well-dressed. Meanwhile, he was still wearing the soot-covered blouse and vest he'd had on for the past three days. He envied Aryll, who looked the most well-groomed out of all of them, having switched from Fastred's tattered gown into the trousers and blouse they had traded for the Claw. And this was saying a lot, considering her hair was still matted and tangled, even after she had removed her tight updo.

The party found themselves slowing in their steps as a tall Dunmer woman in leather armor approached them, sword partially drawn at the hip.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Jarl Balgruuf is not expecting any visitors."

"Um…" He wanted to turn around right there and walk back out. Thankfully, Zelda was composed enough to take over.

"If I may," she politely requested, "we're here to speak to the Jarl on behalf of Riverwood. A dragon has attacked Helgen, and the town is requesting aid." Note to self, thought Gwilin, let Zelda handle diplomacy from this point on. She's brilliant. The princess was far from unnerved. In fact, addressing this bodyguard in such an official manner looked natural to her.

"You know about the dragon attack?" the Dunmer demanded. I guess you already did, he thought. "The Jarl will want to speak with you right away. Come." She sheathed her weapon and gestured for them to follow.

They stopped on a raised platform where a balding man in black robes spoke to a bearded man in muscle-baring armor and a bronze circlet. The latter sat – more like leaned – in a large, wooden throne.

Here goes nothing, Gwilin grimaced.

"Your majesty," the bodyguard interrupted. "These four have come on behalf of Riverwood. They have news of the dragon attack."

"Dragon attack?" the Jarl boomed. "You mean Helgen?" He turned a perceptive eye towards the party. "Were you there? Do you know exactly what happened?"

"Helgen's the name of that town that was destroyed, right?" Link quietly asked Gwilin. The Bosmer nodded and was about to voice this to the Jarl, but it appeared the latter had heard them.

"Destroyed. By Ysmir. Irileth, you were right." The Jarl regarded the bodyguard, who bowed her head in respect.

"That's not even the worst part," Aryll said. "It wasn't just any dragon. It was him – it was Alduin."

And that was enough to silence all of Dragonsreach. For a moment, all eyes bore down on the girl, who held her gaze, despite her obvious discomfort.

"Such dark humor is not appreciated in this court, my child," the Jarl said.

"I'm not being humorous. It was him. He completely obliterated Helgen, and Riverwood fears they may be next."

"Alduin," mused the bald, black-robed official. "Rumored to be a sign of the end of times…"

"And how do you know it was him, and not some other?" the Jarl pressed.

"He spoke both the dragon tongue and the human tongue. He was completely invincible to attacks," Aryll said.

"She knows because she faced him," Gwilin said. "We all did."

"You fended off the prophesied World-Eater? And lived? These children are mad. May I see them out, my lord?" The official gestured to some guards standing nearby, but the Jarl held up a hand.

"The young lady in blue – I wish to see what she has around her neck," he said. The scale. Gwilin nodded back to Zelda, who stepped forward and held her strange pendant out to the Jarl. "May I?"

"You may try," she said. He held both ends of the shard and appeared to strain. He's trying to break it, Gwilin realized. When the former failed at this task, he gave the pendant back to Zelda.

"I have no doubt that what you say about the presence of a dragon is true," he admitted. "But, to assume it is the Ancient One himself? That's quite an accusation."

"We wouldn't be giving it if it weren't true," Gwilin said. "Aryll here, she knows. She's been trained by the Greybeards themselves."

"Don't," she mumbled. All attention was back on her.

"A pupil of the Greybeards," the official frowned. "Like Ulfric."

"She's not like him," Zelda said. "She detests him. Told us herself."

"How convenient."

"She could have used the Voice at any time to attack whoever she wanted at Market Day… I mean, Helgen," Gwilin said. "As it is, she's never used it outside of the monastery – that is, not until Helgen, when she used it to distract Alduin. That's how we're all alive. She bought us time to escape."

"Without the Voice, it would have been near impossible to survive such an attack," the Jarl said.

"I am unfamiliar with this 'Voice'," said Irileth. "But it appears to be something that this Alduin already knows. How do we know she didn't summon him?"

"You're kidding, right?" Aryll looked ready to burst. "Alduin is the stuff of nightmares! Do you honestly think I would be warning you, right now, about his presence if I was working with him? He's destroyed everything that matters to me."

"We don't know that Klimmek's dead," Gwilin assured her, then turned back to explain. "Klimmek's her father. He disappeared in the attack."

"We have no reason to think he survived." She wasn't speaking to the Jarl now, just Gwilin.

"We have no reason to think he's dead."

"We have every reason. Look what he did to everyone and everything else! Helgen is reduced to ashes and bathed in blood, and you expect me to just hope the man who raised me survived all of that?!"

"Enough," the Jarl interrupted, silencing the pair. At this point, tears had finally begun to fall down the girl's face, and she bowed her head to hide them. After a moment of contemplation, the Jarl glanced at his official. "I believe her."

"Sire?"

"Being able to use the Voice might be easy to pass off as convenience or conspiracy," he said, "but true grief, no matter how contained or bottled, cannot be so easily dismissed." For once, Gwilin was grateful for his friend's emotional outburst. "If what you say is true, Whiterun alone does not have the power to defeat this monster. However," he went on, "we can spare units to defend our own people. Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood immediately."

"But, the Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" the official protested. The Jarl ignored him and addressed Irileth.

"You have my orders," he said.

"Sir," Irileth nodded and made her way out of the hall.

"If you'll excuse me," said the official with a snide expression, "I will return to my duties."

"That would be for the best, Proventus," Jarl Balgruuf said. When Proventus had gone, the Jarl gestured for the four to be at ease. "Well done, all of you. You sought me out, and on your own initiatives. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't soon forget it. And as for your father," he regarded Aryll, who still hadn't looked up, "I offer my condolences." Clearly, he didn't believe the man had survived. Excuse me, sire, Gwilin wanted to interrupt, you're not helping. "Please, wait here." He called over a guard and murmured something before sending him away. "You personally showed great bravery in protecting as many people as you could. That is deserving of recognition."

"Hey," Gwilin coaxed, putting a hand on her shoulder. Aryll glanced at him through her mess of damp hair. He nodded his head in the direction of the Jarl, and she wiped the tears from her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face.

The guard returned holding a shirt of mail and a pair of pauldrons.

"These are from my own personal armory," Balgruuf said. "Please, take it as a token of my esteem."

"I… but… thank you, but… the teachings… the Brothers…" She was at a loss for words as the guard gently pressed the armor into her arms.

"Thank you, Jarl," Gwilin said.

"If you do not mind," said the Jarl, "I wish for the four of you to stay in this city for a few days. It's not safe to travel with dragons about, and I wish to discuss this matter at length with my court wizard. We may wish to consult you at a later date. I will send a messenger to prepare you a room at Bannered Mare, the finest inn our city has to offer."

"Thank you, Jarl," they all managed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You should have this," Aryll said as she stored her armor in the room's trunk. Zelda, Link, and Gwilin all looked at each other.

"Who?" Zelda asked.

"Any of you. I'm certainly not going to use it."

"It can't hurt to have a method of defense," Gwilin said, "especially when Alduin's on the loose."

"It doesn't fit me anyways. Did you see the Jarl's arms? They're huge. Look at me – I have noodles." Aryll wiggled one of her arms to prove a point. Gwilin could tell his friend was trying to be humorous to hide the sadness and bitterness that had betrayed her in Jarl Balgruuf's court.

"The pauldrons might be too big," Link said, "but maille can be adjusted. I'm sure the blacksmith we met earlier would be happy to do so in exchange for our help."

"I don't want it. Any of it. Besides, armor is for knights, not monks." Even as she said the word "monks", a look of doubt flashed across Aryll's face. "It would be best for someone with fighting experience to take it." She didn't directly offer the armor to Link, but she cast a hard glance in his direction, all while avoiding his gaze.

"We're here for a few days," Zelda cut in to avoid another fight. "You don't have to decide right away. Let's just keep it here for the time being. I doubt there will be any need for armor while we're in a well-protected town.

"That's what everyone in Helgen thought." They were sullen words, but true.

"Since we're here for a few days, we should take this opportunity to explore," Gwilin said. "Whiterun might not be the biggest city, but it still has a lot going for it. I'd like to see what's all here."

"It couldn't hurt to get some fresh air," Zelda agreed. "Why don't we split up? Boys in one group, girls in the other? We can meet back here at sundown."

"Are you sure?" Gwilin apprehensively glanced between Zelda and Aryll. Aryll might have tolerated the princess, but she was only a tad less hostile than she was with Link. Zelda nodded.

"You go on ahead. We'll set out when we're ready."

"Okay then. Back to the room by sundown. Come on, Link." He held the door for the Hylian knight before flashing Zelda another look. The princess smiled.

We'll be fine, she mouthed.