The snow came in swirls with the wind howling so loudly it drowned out all other sound. Almost all other sound. For, even louder than the wind, was the steady steps of the army that marched along the northern road east towards Windhelm. They would travel that way as far as the Pale then their road would turn south into Whiterun and towards Ivarstead. A long journey that would take a long time, even longer when you factored in the lengthy process that was moving an army anywhere.

If Llirvalie's agents were to be believed, the Thalmor had not yet moved out of Falkreath. The Nightingale had made the guess that they were waiting for something, or someone, but they had not yet figured out what, or who.

As far as Uhther was concerned, the fact that the Thalmor were staying put was the important part. They could worry about any other problems when they appeared but, for now, they had to focus on beating the Thalmor to the mountain. Uhther did not want to think about what would happen if they were too late.

He glanced back at the army that now followed him. It was just over half of the total force that had assembled outside of Solitude. It had been decided that the army would divide, with the greater half following Uhther to the Throat of the World. Along the way, Idgrod, Brina and the other eastern jarls would gather up their remaining forces.

Meanwhile, General Tullius, Queen Elisif, Jarl Igmund and the Falkreath forces, under the command of Helvard, would take their smaller force south, through the Reach, and attempt to rescue any warriors that still remained in the Southern hold. The hope was that they would then advance north to the Throat of the World, taking the Thalmor in the rear. A good plan, in theory. But Uhther had learned long ago that the best laid plans lasted only until the first arrow flew.

His thoughts were interrupted as the horse he was leading whinnied and snorted, tossing its head and taking Uhther off balance. Quickly regaining his composure, Uhther snarled at the animal and jerked its head back. The horse had been a parting gift from the Queen, one of the finest geldings from her stable by the name of Nightfrost. Uhther did appreciate the gift. He would need a mount for the battle and Alfsigr was far too old now to be a true warhorse. But after so many years with the dependable black mare, he was unprepared for this overly excitable brute.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Uhther saw Lucia riding at the head of her small warband. She too had been given a new mount by the Queen, a young palomino mare that she had named Lady Ellie. The mare trotted along calmly as Lucia chatted with Lars and Blaise who still rode with the Fangs, despite still wearing their Legion uniform. Uhther could not help but feel a little annoyed that the other horse was so well behaved.

Behind the Fangs marched the imperial forces that had been placed under Uhther's command. They were led by Quentin Cipius, an old war dog that Uhther knew quite well from his time living in Whiterun. Uhther would have preferred to have Rikke with him, she was a trusted friend as well as one of the best commanders in the legion and she had always given him good advice, whether he asked for it or not. But she had been needed in the other force. Uhther supposed it didn't matter too much. Quentin was a good soldier, and Uhther knew he could certainly do worse for a lieutenant.

The forces of the jarls accompanying Uhther formed a second column with the Blades and Stormfists marching in a third, thinner column between them with Delphine and Ralof in the lead. The sworn-swords, those who had not gone south with Elisif and Tullius, brought up the rear with the Companions.

Quite where Safiya and her mages had gone, no one was quite sure of. The morning of their departure from Solitude, Uhther had gone in search of the Arch-mage, only to find that she, Quaranir, and all the mages who had come with them had vanished without a trace. The only remnant was the girl, Sissel, who had apparently joined herself to Lucia and her Fangs.

'She'll have gone to the mountain,' Quentin had said, sagely, his head bobbing slightly as he spoke. 'Mages have always known their own business, Young Uhther, its best to leave them to it.'

Uhther had had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at this. Admittedly, Quentin was older than him and had been in the legion a fair time longer, but Uhther had seen things the other man could barely imagine, so it was a little difficult to take it seriously when he began to talk like a sage old Clan Elder. He had exchanged a glance with Fasendil, the other legate joining his part of the army. The golden skinned high-elf gave him a knowing smile, as if to say "Now you know what I have to deal with." Uhther had smirked back. He had always liked Fasendil. A lot of Nords would probably have been concerned about him, especially now given the enemy they were going to face. But Fasendil had been born and raised in Cyrodiil and had always been very outspoken in his disdain of the Aldmeri Dominion, which apparently went back before the Great War. And he made it very clear to everyone that he considered himself a citizen of the Empire, regardless of what happened on the Summerset Isle.

He was currently at the back of the imperial column, commanding the rear guard in case an enemy struck from behind. Nobody had thought that particularly likely, but it never hurt to be prepared and Fasendil's troops were well drilled in forming a quick and solid shield wall.

Uhther turned his attention back ahead, towards the rolling snowy hills that stretched out before them on either side of the road. In the very distance, he could see the dark outline of the Throat of the World, their ultimate destination. He had sent Faendal and some of the stealthier of his sworn-swords in that direction that very morning, to support the scouts that Quentin had dispatched. He wondered how they were doing. Whether they had run afoul of any Thalmor patrols.

He put that from his mind. No way of knowing that until they reported back in the evening. His eyes went up to the top of the slope to his left. Up there stood the remains of an ancient tomb. Uhther peered up at it, feeling as if he knew it. He was pretty sure he had once explored that tomb, back during the days of the Civil War. He smiled. Those had been good days. When he hadn't had so much to worry about. No responsibilities. Just himself and his blade adventuring in the wilds with maybe a housecarl or a friend beside him.

'What are you smirking about?'

Uhther jumped and turned his head in time to see a cowled figure appear as if from nowhere. Nightfrost started and shook his head while, behind him, he heard a few of the housecarls reach for weapons. Uhther pulled the gelding back under control and halted the housecarls with a gesture.

'Llirvalie?'

The Nightingale regarded him coolly before removing her mask and hood to reveal a familiar grey-skinned face.

'Of course it's me,' she said, tersely, 'how many other Nightingales waste their time coming to talk to you?'

Uhther shrugged.

'None that I'm aware of,' he said as he walked, 'but then, don't you Nightingales keep your identities secret? Maybe I've met all of you and just didn't know it.'

Llirvalie snorted but said nothing. In that moment, Uhther was reminded of the first time he had seen her. It had been a long time ago and it had been so fleeting that he had only recently remembered it. When he had been making his way through the Ratway, looking for Esbern, he had seen her in the Ragged Flagon, the underground tavern operated by the Guild. The way he recalled it, she had barely spared him a glance, reacting to his question about where the old Lore Master was with nothing but a look of impatience and indifference. A similar expression to the one she wore now.

She watched the army march past for a while. Uhther waited patiently. Llirvalie had not come here just to mildly insult him. There was some purpose here.

'You didn't answer my question,' she said at last. 'What were you looking at?'

By way of answer, Uhther gestured up at the top of the hill. Llirvalie turned her crimson eyes to where he pointed.

'A mouldy old tomb?' she asked, looking back at him, 'I know you're not the greatest wit in Skyrim but I didn't think you were quite that easily amused.'

'It's not the tomb,' Uhther said, impatiently, 'I'm just remembering older times. Back when things were,' he paused, 'simpler.'

Llirvalie cocked an eyebrow at that.

'And which simpler times were those?' she asked, mock innocence in her voice, 'when Alduin returned to devour the world? Or is it Miraak that's gotten you feeling nostalgic?'

'Of course not,' Uhther snapped, starting to get a little tired of her attitude, 'I meant the days before then, when life was easy and simple. Back when I was just fighting and exploring in exchange for gold.'

He glanced over at the marching column. Lucia and her Fangs were passing by them. Seeing her father looking their way, Lucia raised her hand in greeting. She then spotted Llirvalie and, smiling, turned her golden mare and began trotting towards them. The Fangs reined in their horses to wait for their leader. The army moved around them like a river running around rocks.

'The last few years have been good too,' Uhther said, his eyes still on his daughter. 'Raising my family, tending my garden and, every now and again, slipping off for a little adventure.'

'Not quite as glorious as the old days,' Llirvalie noted, one eyebrow cocked.

'Maybe not,' Uhther answered, wondering where she was going with all of this, 'but it was peaceful. And, after everything I went through - Alduin, Harkon, all the rest of it - a bit of peace was nice.'

Lucia had come close enough to hear them now. She shot a questioning look at Lydia as she dismounted but the housecarl answered with only a shrug.

'Can't have been all that nice,' Llirvalie said, shrewdly, mouth twisted into a sardonic smile, 'it's not like the Thalmor did anything to make you attack the embassy.'

Uhther started. Where had this come from? And why was Llirvalie bringing it up? They had spoken on this subject before, with Quaranir and the Arch-mage, back when all of this had really begun.

'You know I didn't attack the embassy for the fun of it,' he said, finally losing his patience, 'what is all this about? Are you here for anything in particular or are you just here to amuse yourself?'

The sly smile on Llirvalie's lips vanished in an instant.

'I'm here to check on you,' she said, and her tone was suddenly much more serious, 'we're going to what might be our doom and the doom of every man, mer and beast-kin, not just in Tamriel but the whole of Nirn. We're the only ones who can stop the Thalmor from just marching up and toppling the Snow Throat Tower.'

'I'm aware of that,' Uhther snarled, feeling nettled. He was fully aware of the responsibility on his shoulders, he did not need the snarky elf to remind him.

'Are you?' Llirvalie demanded. 'Because if I was literally leading the charge against the end of the world, I wouldn't be gawping at the sky remembering "the good old days."'

'I'd have thought it only natural to think of things like that at a time like this,' said Uhther, gesturing over at the soldiers he led, 'you think they're not all thinking of happier times right now?'

'They aren't leading the army,' countered Llirvalie, 'they are here to fight. You're the one who's going to be telling them what to do, but as far as I can see you haven't even started planning yet. This isn't going to be like anything you've faced before. This isn't some great enemy that you can fight one on one, and you won't win by sneaking into a fort and letting your troops in. This will be a real, honest to the gods battle, and I'm not sure you're prepared. And what about Estoriil? How are you planning on dealing with him? One of the greatest wizards ever to come out of the Summerset Isle with an entire legion of Thalmor soldiers at his personal command. What's your tactic there?'

Uhther didn't answer. He had no answer. The truth was, Llirvalie was right. He supposed he had expected Tullius or Elisif to do most of the actual planning for the battle, but they were miles away on their way to Falkreath. And he couldn't just ask his fellow legates to deal with it, he was supposed to be the one in charge.

Lucia was looking up at him, her expression troubled.

'This is going to be the hardest test of your life,' said Llirvalie. Her tone had softened a little. 'You need to be ready. So, stop daydreaming and focus on the matter at hand.'

Uhther did not answer right away. He closed his eyes and heaved a breath. As he did so, he touched his fingers to the hilt of Dragons Breath. Not with any intent of drawing the sword, but the solidness of it was one of the few constant things in his life. And that helped at times like this.

Llirvalie was right. He had been dragging his heels, expecting someone else to come along and make up the plan that he could just follow. It had always been that way before. Arngeir, Rikke, Kodlak and Paarthurnax, all of them had been smarter than he and had known what needed to be done. He had just done as they'd instructed, followed the plan and claimed victory. But that wasn't an option anymore. Now he would have to come up with the plan.

He opened his eyes and looked down again at Lucia. She was looking back up at him. She still looked troubled but there was a fire in her eyes now. She looked resolute and ready for anything. He imagined this must have been the look on her face right before she and the Fangs had taken Riften from Maven Blackbriar. That thought still made him swell with pride. His little girl taking a city in a single night with only a small band of barely-blooded warriors to help her. His Young Dragon.

'Lucia,' he said, his voice as firm as he could make it, 'I need you to carry a message for me. Go and find Idgrod and the other jarls, they should be travelling together, then find Delphine, Vilkas, Ralof, Quentin and Fasendil. I want you to tell them all that I want to see them in my tent this evening, as soon as we call a halt for the day, so that we can go over formations for tomorrow's march and to discuss tactics for when we arrive at the Throat of the World. I want you there as well.'

Lucia nodded, her eyes sparkling with pride.

With a nod towards Llirvalie, she mounted Lady Ellie and set off at a gallop towards the back of the column. As she passed by them, Braith and Joric wheeled their own horses about and set off after her without any hesitation or need of an order. The rest of the Fangs turned in the opposite direction, walking their horses at pace with the rest of the army, now with Lars in the lead.

Uhther turned back to Llirvalie.

'Alright,' he said, 'tell me everything you know about this Estoriil.'

The Nightingale smiled.