Apologies for the somewhat shorter chapter this week. Exams are...a thing.

Gildas:

The Breton was shocked awake by the jostling of a cart. A cart. He was in a cart. Why was he in a cart?

He cracked his eyes open and winced as his head pulsed. Sitting across from him in the cart were two Nords. One was blonde and dressed in blue armor, while the other had dark hair and was dressed in ragged clothes. The blonde looked up at Gildas and nodded. "Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" Gildas nodded. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief."

He nodded towards the dark haired Nord, who glared at him. "Damn you Stormcloaks! The Empire was nice and lazy before you came alone. If it hadn't been for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

A horse? Gildas thought back. He'd heard the clashing of steel, shouting...he had been running when a great dark shape had suddenly rushed towards him... "Wait, did you run me over with a horse?" Gildas yelped at the thief.

The thief scowled at him. "You ran in front of me! Lousy Breton..."

Gildas shook his head as the driver of the cart yelled at them to shut up. The thief nodded towards the fourth passenger in the cart, who Gildas hadn't been paying attention to. "And what's wrong with him?"

The fourth passenger was dressed in fine clothes, and unlike the other three, he was gagged as well as bound. The blonde glared at the thief. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

Gildas' eyes widened, and he saw the thief's do the same. "Ulfric..." the thief whispered thoughtfully, "as in the Jarl of Windhelm? That Ulfric?"

Gildas looked over at the man. "You're the leader of the rebellion?"

"You sound surprised," noted the blonde.

Gildas shrugged. "I came over from Cyrodiil. From how they're talking down there, I was expecting a bunch of smelly guys in crude furs." What had Papi's friend called them? Undisciplined ruffians who were more trouble then they were worth? "Then again, the guy who told me that is kind of...well...you could call him an elitist."

Gildas shrugged as the blonde sighed and shook his head. The thief was worrying his lip between his teeth. "But if they've captured you..." The thief's head swung up. "Oh gods! Where are they taking us?"

The blonde bowed his head. "I don't know where we're going. But Sovngarde awaits."

Gildas's brow furrowed. Sovngarde? The name sounded kind of familiar but...

The thief seemed to understand what it meant though. And he wasn't happy. He honestly looked like he was going to be sick. "No, this isn't happening! This can't be happening!" He looked to Gildas, seemingly for reassurance, but Gildas couldn't give him any.

The blonde sighed again. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

The thief glared at him. "Why do you care?" he asked snippily.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home, don't you think?"

The thief glared down at the bottom of the cart. He sighed heavily. "Rorikstead...I'm from Rorikstead."

"And you, Breton?"

Gildas looked up. "I'm from Anvil. It's in the south of Cyrodiil."

Home...would Mama, Papi and Minerva even know what happened to him? Surely they must have received word by now that he had left High Rock. Would they figure out where he had gone?

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" The thief's pleas broke Gildas out of his thoughts. He realized they were rolling through a city gate.

The blonde looked around. "This is Helgen..." he murmured. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. It's funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." He glared at someone behind Gildas. "Look there. General Tullius, the military governor."

Gildas turned around. Sure enough, he saw a silver-haired man on a horse, wearing fancy armor. Gildas glowered when he saw who the man was talking to: an Altmer in a familiar black longcoat. He turned back to the blonde Nord. "Great. Looks like the Thalmor are here, too."

The Nord shook his head, scowling. "Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this!"

The cart finally pulled to a stop alongside several others. The thief began shaking. "Why...why are we stopping?"

The blonde snorted. "Why do you think? End of the line." He stood up and nodded to the others. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting."

Brelyna:

Brelyna was washing her face in the basin when she heard a shriek from behind her. She spun around to see Minerva sitting straight up in her bed, blanket clutched to her chest, eyes wide.

The apprentices had arrived in the town of Helgen the night before, totally exhausted. They'd paid for two rooms at the inn and had barely gotten to their rooms before collapsing. The cave that Enthir had pointed them towards was a few hours south still. Brelyna had been thinking about asking the others to rest for the day when she'd been startled by Minerva. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Minerva turned to Brelyna, her pupils dilated. Then she shook her head. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

Brelyna tilted her head. "You sure? That was a pretty loud shriek."

There was a knock at the door, and Brelyna walked over to open it. Standing outside were Onmund and J'zargo, both with concerned looks. "We heard yelling. Is everything okay?"

Minerva groaned and swung her legs off the bed. "It's fine. I just had a nightmare."

"What about?" asked Brelyna, curious.

Minerva shook her head and waved her off. "Eh, it was stupid. I dreamed there was a big monster attacking a town. Nothing too special."

Brelyna looked at Onmund, and she could see he was as unconvinced as she was. But Minerva wasn't volunteering any more information, so she decided to leave it alone.

As the group walked down for breakfast, they heard the sounds of shouting and rolling wheels coming from outside. Brelyna realized that the other patrons had heard it too, and were starting to gather around the doorway.

When she got to see what was going on, she nearly gasped. Tens, possibly hundreds of imperial soldiers lining the streets, escorting carts filled with men and women in similar blue armor. "Stormcloaks," she heard Onmund whisper next to her. "They...must have been captured."

Brelyna turned to look at Onmund. He didn't look happy. More concerned than anything. He's from the Stormcloak capital, she remembered. Did Onmund know some of these people? It was certainly possible. Brelyna cast a glance at J'zargo, whose ears were twitching erratically, and Minerva, who seemed to be scooting towards Onmund.

"The General is here, too," she heard people mutter.

"This must be a big deal..."

"That's a lot of Stormcloaks..."

"Is that Jarl Ulfric?"

"What the shit?" Minerva suddenly sprinted out into the street, yelling. "Hey! Hold up!"

Brelyna startled, then sprinted after her. "Minerva, wait! What are you doing?" But Minerva had vanished into the crowd.

By the time Brelyna saw her again, Minerva was glaring up at a Redguard dressed in Imperial armor. Brelyna couldn't hear what was being said at first, just that Minerva was waving her hands around a lot and the Redguard was looking down on her, nose turned up. Standing near the two were a confused-looking Nord, also in Imperial armor, and a Breton with bound hands that had the same dark brown hair and pointed nose as Minerva. The Nord was holding a quill pen and a book, so he must've been a scribe of some kind. Finally, Brelyna made her way close enough to hear what they were saying.

"...listen here you stuck up bitch-"

"I am a Captain of the Imperial Legion, child, and you will address me as such!"

"Oh, my apologies, Captain, you are not executing my brother!" With each word, Minerva poked the Captain's chestplate.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" yelped Onmund, running up being Brelyna. "What's going on?"

Brelyna shook her head and reached out to grab Minerva's arm. "Come on Nirva, don't antagonize the soldier-"

Minerva yanked her arm away, glaring. That dangerous look from Fellglow Keep was back. "Back off, Bre! This is important!" She spun back to face the Captain. "Gildas has been going on and on since he was five about joining the Legion someday! The only reason he hasn't yet is because my grandpa vetoed it ages ago! There's no way he'd join the Stormcloaks!"

The Captain scowled at the scribe. "I'll take care of the prisoner! Hadvar, escort this child to-"

She was cut off by a sound. It was like thunder, but more powerful. Everyone was quiet for a few seconds as the sound faded.

"What was that?" someone asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brelyna saw an older man, probably the General everyone was talking about, motion for the proceedings to continue. A priestess walked to the center and started giving what sounded like last rites. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-"

The sound came again, a bit louder this time. Once again, everyone fell silent. After a few moments, the priestess raised her arms and began again, sounding more unsure. "...for...for you are the salt and earth of our beloved Nirn-"

"What in Oblivion is that?"

A great black shape blotted out part of the sky as it flew above them. It grew bigger and closer, until it set itself on top of the keep.

A scaly black beast, with large batlike wings and eyes like red-hot coals. "No..." Brelyna heard Onmund whisper. "That's a..."

"Dragon!"

The dragon roared. That was when everything went to Oblivion.

Minerva:

The air was thick with dust and smoke as Minerva ran around in a blind panic. "Brelyna! Onmund! J'zargo! Gildas! Where are you? Anyone?"

There was so much screaming everywhere. Even if they did call for her, would she hear them? A strong wind threatened to topple her as the black dragon soared past again. It landed on top of one of the walls. And then it spoke.

"Dar Lein los di!" The voice was deep, booming, like if a mountain could speak.

Minerva took several steps back. Her stomach clenched, and her flight-or-fight instincts kicked into overdrive. Fight? Fly? Fight fly fight? Flyfightfight fight FIGHT!

Against all common sense, Minerva charged towards the beast. "H-hey! You...um...thing! You big...uh..."

It was just as well that Minerva couldn't think of an insult, because she had only gone a few feet before she was scooped up and thrown over someone's shoulder in a fireman's carry. She yelped and kicked at her captor. "What in- put me down!"

"And let you continue your suicide mission against that thing? I don't think so!" Minerva froze in surprise as she recognized the voice of the scribe from earlier.

"Hey! Wait up!" Minerva looked up to see two figures running through the smoke. Gildas, hands still bound, was followed closely by J'zargo, who had lost his mage hood and had his ears visibly pinned back.

"Gildas, what in Oblivion is going on?" Minerva yelled, hoping to be heard above the screaming. Without having to concentrate on running, she could hear a few distinct voices above the din.

"What in the Eight Divines is that thing?"

"Our arrows do nothing!"

"Fall! Fall damn you!"

"Into the keep, soldiers, we're leaving!"

Suddenly, the scribe, Hadvar, stopped in his tracks. "Ralof!" he growled. "Get out of our way you damned traitor!"

Another voice, this one with a thicker Nord accent, replied, "We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not going to stop us!"

Hadvar hesitated briefly, then ran over to the keep door. "Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" He flung open the door and gestured for the others to follow. "Into the keep! With me!" He set Minerva down and held the door open long enough for Gildas and J'zargo to get in. Then he slammed the heavy door behind them and pulled down the bar to secure it.

Next chapter: The group makes their way through Helgen and to Riverwood.