The Circle
"Brothers and sisters of the Circle" Kodlak started with his hands held out in tradition. "Today we welcome a new soul into our fold. This man has endured, has challenged, and has shown his Valor. Who will speak for him?" The torches flickered in the dark as Kodlak turned watched upon the members of the circle.
Northern light of green and purple danced across the star riddled sky above our heads. The moons, Masser and Secunda, were nothing more than two bent lines of light over High Hrothgar, giving the stars even more room to shine than usual.
All the Companions were present for my acceptance into the Circle, standing on the terrace overseeing the training area behind Jorraskr. The Companions of the Circle, Aela, Skjor, Kodlak, Farkas, and Vilkas stood in half a circle around me.
"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us." Farkas responded.
"Would you raise your shield in his defense?" Kodlak continued, looking at Farkas who had taken the roll to continue the ritual.
"I would stand at his back, that the world might never overtake us," Farkas responded.
"And would you raise your sword in his honor?"
"It stands ready to meet the blood of his foes."
"And would you raise a mug in his name?" Kodlak lowered his tone on the last few words.
"I would lead the songs of triumph as our mead hall reveled in his stories."
"Then the judgment of this Circle is complete. His heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call." Kodlak finished.
"It shall be so," all the members of the circle shouted in unison.
Tilma had outdone herself. The tables had been filled to the brim with food and drink. There were everything from venison stews to boar steaks, grilled and raw vegetables, anything and everything one could do with potatoes and every type of mead and wine she could find in Whiterun stood in large jugs on the table. Some of these things looked as if they could only have been found from Dragonsreach itself. It seemed Tilma had both pull and ways.
Torvar began singing the moment we all had sat down and it didn't take long for the rest to join in his comedic tune. Tilma, with the graze of a young maiden, walked around the table, making sure every mug was always filled. Vignar began telling stories of old, as he always did, without seeming to have a care for the world of who listened and who didn't. Even Skjor seemed to enjoy himself.
The only one with a slightly foul mood was Athis. He had been a Companion many years longer than me, and I knew jealousy was the reason behind his glares. He was a strong warrior and honorable man, but he was a Dunmer. And no matter how the Companions would deny racism, it was no coincidence the Circle only consisted of Nords. But it was my night. A night of tradition and feast, and so I would have it enjoyed.
There were a few perks of being a member of the Circle. First, it showed my position with the Companions as one more… permanent, than before. So I had been given my own room and no longer shared bedroom with Athis, Njada, Ria, and Torvar.
The Companions had no leadership or form of rank, and so being in the Circle gave no real form of power over the other Companions, it was simply symbolic; ¨Every man, their own.¨ outside of the Companions, however, was another thing. I had been given a boost in both respect and renown. People greeted me on the streets, Hulda let me drink for free at the Bannered Mare, something I rarely came to abuse, and even guards treated me with respect. But a position in the Circle also came with responsibilities.
Kodlak was the Harbinger. And as the Harbinger he was the ¨face¨ and ¨voice¨ of the companions, handling anything and everything that involved decisions regarding the Companions as a whole. He also guided and advised the other Companions whenever needed.
Skjor handled the jobs from Windhelm, and thus traveled there once a month to meet the Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak, to collect contracts and payments. He had also self-proclaimed himself to be in charge of training, something I now was far too familiar to not be aware of. but he was a good trainer, and teacher, so everyone had gone along with it just fine. It was also he who was decided to take over as Harbinger, when Kodlak was to retire, or more likely, die honorably in battle.
Vilkas had always been in charge of the administrative work and our economy, collecting a piece of every payment we got. And thus using said payments for repairs of Jorrvaskr and to pay for any resources Eorlund or Tilma needed. Vignar used to say; That boy is far too clever to be wasted on a battlefield. But that didn't mean Vilkas didn't enjoy a good battle. And he, like everyone else, often took on contracts as well. He usually took Farkas as shield-brother, but we got along more than well these days. And we had been on some smaller contracts together more than once.
Farkas was in charge of any work we got from, our very own, Whiterun. Collecting bounties and meeting with Jarl Belgruuf once every month.
Aela had Solitude and Markarth. And she also handled hunting and overall food. Tilma had, however, taken upon herself to do most of the grocery shopping, so the food-part of Aela's job was something that didn't really need her attention.
And I had now been given the responsibility of the Rift. Thus traveling to Riften once a month had become one of my responsibilities. I had been nervous when I first met their Jarl, Laila Law-Giver. But Vilkas had told me to act respectful, professional, and representable. So I had. And she in return seemed nice and kind. I didn't feel that nervous after that, and I had no problems collecting contracts and payments. But I also started to work the Skyforge with Eorlund, any chance I got.
It had taken more than stubbornness before he ¨took me under his wing¨ and accepted. Him getting old and me being young and strong didn't hurt either. I knew he wanted one of his sons to take over the Skyforge after him, but they were always on some adventure or something, so Eorlund never got the chance to train them. A family tradition like that, I figure he was a bit disappointed in his sons for choosing another life. Not something he would ever admit to though.
Unlike Skjor, Eorlund wasn't that good of a teacher. It took weeks before he even allowed me to touch the Skyforge, before that I only got to observe him. And once I did get to work the Skyforge, he acted as if I already should know everything. Biting my ear off at every mistake or question. I believed myself to help him but in truth I was more of a ¨child-student¨ under him. But I learned a lot watching him over the year. That man was over his sixties yet he worked the steel as if he had been born with a hammer in his hand. Often making me sweat before he did.
My new room wasn't that large. Tightly holding a work desk, a small bookshelf, a wardrobe, a couple of chests, a small table, two chairs, a bed, and in the corner by the door a weapon stand, holding my new great axe, and a mannequin for my armor.
The great axe was easily my best work with the Skyforge so far. And I had taken great pride in its creation. The metal was, obviously, Skyforge steel. Giving it quality above any other steel one could find in Skyrim. The axe's head was heavy and based on a ¨disc¨ design, though flattened on the top with an engraved short spike, mostly for design. Both ends of the axe head were sharp, meaning one didn't need to twist the axe when changing the attack direction. And I had engraved both the flat sides of the axe head with patterns of a true Nordic style. Eorlund had helped me a lot with it, but I still felt I was its creator.
The handle was dark heavy hardwood from an oak. I had embedded pieces and rings of metal in the handle for two reasons. First, visual design. And second, to make the handle balanced in weight with the axe head. I had also spun leather around parts of the handle for a better grip.
My great axe was large, obviously made for me. And since I had gotten taller and broader, in my shoulders, than most people, my great axe was larger than standard as well. The impressive size even made it unwieldable to most people. Only Farkas of all the Companions had managed to use it efficiently when trying it out.
As for the armor.
It had taken Eorlund well over a week of work to finish it. Hours of him taking my measurements and, many hours more, making the fine adjustments. He hadn't allowed me to claim it until he, and only he, was satisfied… which he never was. So it had felt like an eternity until I had been allowed to take it to my room. But now I had, and it was mine. Perfectly fitted after my body and my body alone.
As I stood in my room admiring my new armor, mounted on my mannequin, I was truly fascinated by it. to the point of awe. The craftsmanship in front of me was perfect.
The inner layer consisted of two parts, one part for the front of the body and another for the back, held together by snap-on buttons into a suit, not covering the legs but rather turning into a skirt from the waist down. The two parts were made of wolf-skin, therefore the name, and had black fur covering both the inside as well as the outside.
Two layers of wolf skin already offered good protection against slashing attacks, but it offered even better protection against the harsh cold weathers of Skyrim.
On top of the fursuit came the armor plating, forged in the Skyforge. The torso plating consisted, again, of two pieces. One shaped after my back and one shaped after my chest. The backplate was smooth all over, but the chest plate held a number of engravings made by Eorlund. Primarily the engravings outlined my muscles. But there were also engravings of wolves and different artistic patterns. I knew Eorlund made detailed jewelry for a living as well, which his wife sold in the market. And his skill clearly showed in his attention to details on the armor.
The shoulder plates were simple and, like the back, smooth, and made more for the sake of protection. Favoring practicality over design.
If the armor as a whole was a masterpiece, I couldn't tell what one would call the vambraces. They were clearly the most detailed part of the armor. First, again, two-layered gloves of wolf skin and fur made in the same fashion and design as the suit, buttoned on the inside of the arm to give it the ability to open up upon expanding. Then on top came the plating. They were truly a work of art. They were shaped after the skull of a wolf, covering the entire front side of one's forearms. Unlike any other part of the armor, the plating varied in thickness as the shape of the skull differed. Making details as the eyes sink in while other parts would slightly bulge out. I drew my finger across the teeth of the skull, feeling each one as I went.
It was truly beautiful…
The boots were simpler. The same fashion of wolf skin and fur. But then nothing more than two pieces of shaped smooth plating per boot. One covered the shin, and another covered the upper side of the foot.
All of the steel used on the armor was Skyforge steel. Meaning it didn't rust, bend, chip, or degrade in any way. But unlike regular Skyforge steel, Eorlund had given it his trademark dull gray color that reflected almost no light. Not even in daylight. No one knew how he did it, but creating the gray steel was something unique only to Eorlund. And even then, he only used the technique for the Wolf armor.
I figured the ¨graying¨ gave no improvement to the quality. If it did he would use it for everything he made. So he most likely only used it for its visual effect, and reserved it only for the Wolf armor he made for the Circle.
But the true mastery in the design lied in how everything was attached. All the plating were kept together, and tightened, by leather strips. But rather than using the standard buckle method on the leather strips to hold the armor in place, Eorlund had exchanged the buckles for simple metal rings. Pulling the strips through the rings,and folded them back to attach to themselves by a number of snap-on buttons. Giving the armor the ability to fall in pieces, given enough force.
I thought back at Farka's transformation at Dustman's Cairn. How the armor had ¨fallen¨ of off him as he had transformed, rather than break apart as one would think I would.
This design, of course, came with an obvious weakness. If someone were to grab hold of the wearer's chest plate mid-battle and pull with enough force, the entire torso would fall off, both chest and back. But like I had thought before, one needed to be aware of the design to use this weakness.
The armor was a masterpiece, and the design was clearly made for a werewolf…
Skjor had told me to meet him before the next full moon. And I knew what he had in mind. I had known the Circle was werewolves since Dustman's Cairn. And I had known Skjor's intentions for me the very moment he told me to ask Eorlund for the ¨special¨ design.