'You know,' Safiya began speaking as soon as Uhther ducked through the flap and entered the Arch-mage's pavilion, 'I've always respected the direct nature of the Nords. Back in Hammerfell, if someone committed a crime, we'd put them on trial, call on witnesses, present evidence and all manner of time-consuming activities. Here, you decide a man's guilt, a high-ranking nobleman no less, and execute him on the spot. No hesitation, no accommodation for his status. He's guilty and so must die.'

She had been bent over an enchanting table as Uhther, her eyes fixed on the two objects in her hands. One, a great mace fashioned in the elven style, the other could only be a soul gem, but a kind that Uhther had never seen before, large and star shaped. She now set the two objects down and turned to face them, her eyes glinting like frost.

'I don't know whether to call you savages or geniuses.' She sighed and made her way over to a chair, sitting down heavily, rubbing her eyes. The Arch-mage was tired, he could see that much. Probably tired of all the planning and scheming that had gone into bringing them to this moment. And not a little worry that even all of this wouldn't be enough.

Quaranir moved to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder. Safiya looked up at him gratefully before turning her eyes back on Uhther. The eyes were flinty again, her expression firm. She sat upright in her chair. The momentary weakness was gone. She was the Arch-mage again.

'The death of Jarl Siddgeir is not ideal,' she said curtly, 'but I suppose there was bound to be one thorn gecko in the sandpit. What's important is he was found and dealt with and the other jarls are now ready to join together against this threat.'

'You seem to know a lot about the moot, considering you weren't there,' Uhther said, raising his eyebrow at the Arch-mage.

Safiya snorted impatiently.

'I had a novice outside disguised as a servant,' she said, flippantly, 'she relayed everything to me.'

The fact that Safiya had been so easily able to infiltrate the Queen's staff was, Uhther decided, a matter he could deal with another day. For now, they had more important matters.

'So, what happens next?' he asked.

Safiya took a deep breath.

'What happens next is I am going for a private conference with the Queen to discuss how we shall move out. We need to decide how our troops will be deployed and where we are going to meet the Thalmor invasion.' She looked shrewdly at Uhther. 'The Falkreath troops will be another matter for consideration. Siddgeir has no heirs, at least none that we know about. I could recommend to Elisif that you be given the throne.'

That was not a thought Uhther had any intention of entertaining. He liked Falkreath fine enough, but the thought of being stuck there for life, of having to rule, was not something he had any interest in. Not to mention, he already had the Blades, the Stormfists and the Sworn-Swords to lead. Having to command the Falkreath garrison as well, well that would certainly be spreading himself too thin.

Safiya seemed to read his thoughts in his expression and smiled.

'Content to be a hero, not a ruler?'

Uhther smiled.

'Something like that.'

'What?!'

Uhther jumped. He had not expected Lucia to join this part of the conversation. She was looking up at him incredulously.

'Father, you'd make a great jarl. People love you and they follow you. You're fair and generous. Falkreath would be lucky to have you rule there.'

Uhther chuckled.

'Maybe,' he said, 'but I don't want the job. I'm a warrior, not a politician. And, if we survive this, I fully intend to retire back to our quiet life, maybe go on the odd adventure but I'm not interested in government. That's best left to smarter men and women than me.'

Lucia pouted but said nothing more. Uhther turned back to Safiya.

'Have you heard anything more from Falkreath?'

Safiya shook her head.

'Reports are coming in on the hour,' she said, 'Llirvalie's relay is working nicely. Last I heard, the Thalmor army was still tied up in Falkreath, but I doubt that will take much longer. Then they'll start moving north.'

Uhther frowned.

'Lot of wild country in that hold,' he thought aloud, 'it'll take them a while to move through. I think its safe to assume they'll be heading for the Throat of the World.'

Safiya nodded.

'They might send a token force up to Solitude,' she said, 'but yes, I'd imagine the main part of their army will be heading to the mountain.'

'Then we'll need to be moving out right away,' Uhther responded, 'by the day's end, we'll need to be heading east.'

'But Father,' Lucia cut in, 'a lot of the people here have been travelling a long time. They're tired, they need rest.'

'That can't be helped,' said Uhther, 'even with the wild country, the Thalmor are a lot closer to the mountain than we are. Even if we were to leave now, there's no guarantee that we'd make it before they got to the mountain.'

Safiya nodded and stood up.

'I'll go and speak with Elisif right now,' she said, striding towards the tent flap, Quaranir on her heels, 'as I understand it, the jarls are mobilising their forces so they can be ready to head out. I'd suggest you do the same.'

And then both she and the psijic were gone.

Lucia and Uhther were left in the empty, silent pavilion.

'Get my forces mobilised,' Uhther snorted, 'she's clearly never met the Blades. I wouldn't be surprised if Delphine has had them all lined up in formation since she left the palace.' He paused, scratching at his chin. 'Ralof's lot might need a nudge into line though,' he said, slowly, 'they made a good pace here from Karthspire but now they have the chance to settle down, they might have let discipline slip. They are nords after all.'

'What about the Sworn-Swords?' Lucia asked.

'They're a pack of seasoned mercenaries and sellswords,' Uhther answered before smiling, 'they can all be up on their feet and ready to go inside of five minutes. One thing that life teaches you is how to travel light and move quickly when you need to.' He beckoned Lucia to follow him as he left the pavilion.

Outside was still a hive of activity, though it was more subdued here than in the rest of the camp. There was no hammering of weapons and armour, nor groups practicing drills. Here, the novices and apprentices of the College read thick tomes, mouthing incantations or else stood at alchemy tables, pouring over recipes as they mixed a wide variety of potions.

'Speaking of the Sworn-Swords,' Uhther said as he led Lucia back towards the main camp, 'Mjoll is Saerlund's housecarl. Was that your idea?'

Lucia shrugged.

'It might have been,' she said, coyly, 'Saerlund needed someone to watch his back and Mjoll volunteered.'

Uhther nodded thoughtfully. In truth, he approved of the choice. Mjoll was loyal and undeniably a strong fighter. Though there was also an undeniable stubbornness to her. Uhther still remembered how hard it had been to convince her to stop her one-woman crusade against the Thieves' Guild. That could cause trouble for Saerlund down the line. He hoped the new jarl was up to the challenge that was the Lioness.

They carried on through the camp together, neither saying very much, until they came to a part of the camp that Uhther had to assume had been set apart for him. About a dozen tents had been set up surrounding a pavilion, outside of which stood a tall pole. Attached to this pole was a banner that Uhther had never seen before but knew immediately was for him.

He had never had a banner of his own. He had never felt he'd needed one. If turning up clad in dragon scales and swinging Dragons Breath wasn't enough to announce him as the Dragonborn, then he doubted a symbol on a flag was going to do much. Besides, he'd always considered emblems and coats of arms to be the property of the guilds or the nobility. And, while he might have been granted the title of lord, that purely honorific. So, what right did he actually have to his own symbol?

Well someone clearly thought he had every right because there, on a flag of deep, dark blue, was emblazoned a silver dragon. It was styled similarly to the dragon of the imperial legions, the dragon of Tiber Septim, but this one had its wings spread and its head raised with its mouth open, as if roaring at the sky. Beneath it, someone had stitched two words in the dragon script. Uhther was not, by any standard, an expert on the Dragon Tongue, but he had studied enough with the Greybeards to recognise these two words.

Strun Lon. Storm Fist.

He didn't know whether to be awestruck or embarrassed.

Lucia clearly had no such difficulty deciding. She was looking up at the banner with her mouth open. Uhther supposed he couldn't blame her. He could not deny it was a beautiful piece of work.

'Nice, huh?'

Uhther jumped and turned to see Vilkas walking towards him. He was armed as always but not with his old Skyforge greatsword. Rather, the long handle of a battle-axe poked up over his shoulder. It was old, ornate. Uhther knew it immediately. It was Wuuthrad.

Seeing him looking, Vilkas tapped the handle.

'Arrived from Windhelm,' he then nodded his head towards the banner, 'along with that. I think the courier was waiting to deliver them both to you personally. But you were taking so long that one of your housecarls took them on your behalf.'

That gave Uhther pause. He had assumed someone in the army had made the banner. And who could have sent Wuuthrad here? It was supposed to be locked securely in the Heljarchen Armoury, up in the Pale. Gregor had said nothing about the blade.

Vilkas was holding something out to him. Uhther took it, dumbly.

'Came with them,' Vilkas said, by way of explanation.

It was a roll of paper, sealed with plain red wax. Uhther cracked the seal and read.

"My Love, I know you're off on your most dangerous adventure yet. I thought you'd want every advantage you could get, so I asked Aranea to send me Wuuthrad. I hope it will do some good against the Thalmor. As for the banner, well, I thought it was only proper that the man leading us to salvation should have one. Sofie and I have been working on it for a while. We kept it secret from Lucia because we knew she'd tell you and I wanted it to be a surprise. I know I'm a long way away but I hope that when you look at it, you'll know that I'm there with you in spirit. May it bring you good fortune and bring you back to be safely. Forever yours, Sylgja"

Uhther smiled as he re-read the letter over and over again. What an amazing, brilliant woman his wife was. He saw Lucia craning her neck, trying to read the letter without him noticing so he passed the paper to her, giving her a slight cuff around the head for her nosiness.

'I know that smile, my friend,' and Vilkas was indeed smirking, knowingly, 'that is the smile of a man who has been given kind words by a good woman.'

'I would not have told!' Lucia exclaimed, sounding annoyed. Uhther laughed.

'The best of women,' he said, turning back to Vilkas, 'but how would you know that so well?'

Vilkas raised an eyebrow at him, smiling sardonically.

'I'll have you know I am well harnessed.'

This was, if possible, a greater surprise to Uhther than the banner. The Companions were, as a group, not the most romantically inclined. To his knowledge, all its members were still untethered. That was, apart from Farkas who had taken a man from Rorikstead as a husband the previous year. The thought of Aela marrying anybody was absurd and as for Njada, well Uhther would not want to cross whoever was bold enough to try and marry that she-bear.

'You would have been invited,' Vilkas was looking a little sheepish, as if worried about Uhther's reaction. 'But you and my wife, well, you have a bit of a history. And she thought it would be a little awkward.'

Uhther nodded, that made sense. His mind was working quickly. He had been with a few women before meeting Sylgja. But which of them…?

'Ysolda?' he exclaimed. 'You married Ysolda?'

Vilkas nodded.

'My one shame is that it took me so long,' he said.

Uhther clapped his friend on the shoulder.

'If she has any sense,' he said, 'she'll consider you worth the wait.' He beckoned towards the pavilion that was apparently his. 'Come,' he said, 'we wait on the Queen and the Arch-mage. Let us drink and you can tell me of your new life.' He looked down at his daughter. 'And I still want to hear the exploits of the Young Dragon. Come on.'

Vilkas protested weakly, something about making sure the Companions were ready to move out, but did not stop Uhther escorting him into the pavilion, calling for mead, Lucia following behind them.