Shorter chapter this week due to exams. Just wrapping up the aftermath of the Dragon Rising quest, mostly.
Gildas
General Tullius turned the strange-looking headpiece over in his hands. "So this is the Jagged Crown? I admit, I had my doubts it existed."
Legate Rikke sighed. "You made that perfectly clear, sir," she muttered under her breath.
"Hm?"
"Nothing, sir."
Gildas smirked at the Legate's grumbling, but managed to go back to a neutral expression as the General turned to face them. He nodded to Gildas. "Good work on your first mission, Auxiliary."
"Happy to be of service, sir."
"I hate to ask you to do something so soon after this mission, but I'm afraid this is quite urgent. I need you to deliver this to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun," he explained, holding out a letter that had the Imperial seal on it. "We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. However, the Jarl refuses the Legion's support. Hopefully, this missive should convince him."
Gildas took the letter and saluted the General. "It will be done, sir."
General Tullius nodded. "Be aware, this is for the Jarl's eyes only. Do not under any circumstances allow this to fall into enemy hands. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
Gildas saluted again and walked out of the room. Hadvar was waiting right outside. "Whiterun, huh? I hope the others got that message to the Jarl."
Gildas nodded. "I'm sure they did. Min's reliable." He smirked. "And by reliable, I mean stubborn as Oblivion."
Hadvar laughed as the two legionaries walked outside. "Of course. I wonder-"
He was cut off by the ground shaking under their feet. At first, Gildas wondered if it was just his imagination, but he saw the soldiers practicing archery stop and look up at the sky. The targets began shaking, one of them falling over. And then...
"DO-VAH-KIIN!"
A great shout assaulted Gildas' eardrums. He resisted the urge to press his hands against his head as the shaking reached its crescendo...
Then it faded away. And just like that, everything was normal.
Everyone slowly went back to what they were doing. Gildas turned to Hadvar. "Okay, what in Oblivion was that..."
Hadvar's face was pale. "It can't be...the Greybeards..."
Gildas thought. "I've heard of them before...they summoned Tiber Septim before he became Emperor, right?"
Hadvar nodded. "They summoned him exactly like this, shouting his name so all of Skyrim could hear it..."
Gildas gulped. "But...all the Septims are gone, right? So, why did it happen now?"
Hadvar shook his head. "I...I don't know."
Onmund
To absolutely no one's surprise, there was a feast that night at the inn. The combination of excitement and relief over the dragon being killed (not to mention the appearance of an actual, factual Dragonborn) meant the mead and beer flowed freely.
Even Farengar had gotten in on the action. Though he could no longer study the living dragon, he practically squealed with excitement when the group had brought back bones and scales from the slain being. Currently, the court mage had a bucket on his head and was standing on a table, singing. "Oh, shere onse was a heero named Ragnar the Red, whooo went riding frroom Whiterun to ol' Rorikshead!" It was incredibly off-key, and from across the room Onmund saw J'zargo's ears flatten against his head.
Onmund set down his mug and walked over to the grey Khajit. "Have you seen Minerva?" he asked.
J'zargo looked around and shrugged. "She probably went outside. J'zargo doubts she could stand the court mage's singing for very long."
Onmund laughed, but in truth, what J'zargo said didn't ease his worries. After the battle, Minerva had volunteered to go back alone to tell the Jarl what had happened. Not a minute after she had left, the ground shook, and a great shout of "DOV-AH-KIIN!" had come down from the sky.
There was no doubt what it meant, or who had been shouting. Either Minerva knew, or someone had told her, because she'd been avoiding everyone ever since the battle, not making eye contact with anyone. Had something happened when she'd absorbed the dragon's soul?
Onmund shook his head, smiling a bit. Minerva, the Dragonborn. The image he'd always had of a Dragonborn was more like the Talos statue outside the inn (Onmund still couldn't believe that it was still up): a muscled, bearded Nord warrior wielding a sword or axe, dressed in heavy armor. It was a far cry from the shorter, slightly chubby Breton mage that Minerva was.
Speaking of which, Onmund found her sitting in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The room had a window that looked down on the main dining room, and Minerva was looking out of it, observing the party almost wistfully. "Hi," Onmund greeted.
Minerva jumped, nearly spilling her drink as she spun around. "O...Onmund!" She blushed and looked away. "You scared me..."
Onmund winced. "Sorry." He walked over and observed the party as well. "Looks like they're having fun down there."
Minerva smiled a bit. "Well, I guess not being eaten is something to celebrate."
Onmund grinned. "Yeah. You made that happen."
Minerva's smile disappeared and she shook her head. "Don't be dumb. I had your help, and Bre's, and J'zargo's...not to mention Irelith and her troops."
Onmund shrugged. "Well, that's true..." He suppressed a grin as he remembered the dragon getting an arrow up the nostril. "But it's not coming back for sure now, because of you."
Minerva turned away. She walked across the room. "But...why? Why me, of all people?"
Now that was a question that Onmund hadn't thought of. He scratched the back of his head. "Well...are you maybe related to the Septim family somehow?"
That made Minerva laugh a little. "If we were, the Thalmor would have gotten to us a long time ago."
The two went quiet. "Seriously, though, I actually don't know," Onmund shrugged. "It's supposed to be a gift from the Divines, right? Being Dragonborn?"
Minerva snorted. "Then I'm seriously questioning their taste in potential recipients."
"Minerva!"
"I know, I know, that's probably sacrilegious," MInerva put up her hands. "But it's true. I mean..." She turned away and wrapped her arms around herself. "You already know about all my issues...and on top of that..." Minerva shook her head. "What in Oblivion am I even supposed to do? Those Greybeard guys...they'll be expecting someone tough. Experienced. A warrior! Not-" She gestured to herself. "Not some Breton mage with...a bad temper, to put it mildly."
Onmund sighed. So that's what this was about. "You think they'll expect you to know everything before you get there? The Greybeards aren't dumb."
Minerva looked at Onmund. "Well...well when you put it that way it sounds dumb!" She pouted.
Onmund laughed at her puffed out cheeks. She was cute when she was pouting. Gah, not the time, Onmund! "I mean, it's not like you're descended from a line of Dragonborn, right?
Minerva shook her head. "Not unless my Papi is hiding something from me. If that's the case, he's got some explaining to do."
"Well, there you go! They're probably expecting you to be in the dark no matter what!"
Minerva's shoulders relaxed. "I guess. They're probably still expecting some beefy Nord though." She side-eyed Onmund. "That's who you were expecting, right?"
Well, there was no good way out of this. "Uh...well I wasn't expecting one of my fellow apprentices to be a hero of legend, no."
Minerva laughed. "Good answer." Her expression turned serious. "But don't call me that. I haven't even gotten a legend yet."
Onmund frowned. "Then what should you be called?"
Minerva shook her head. "Uh...I dunno. An...heir to legend? Ugh, no. That just sounds pretentious."
Onmund laughed, and Minerva giggled as well. Then there was silence again, but it was more comfortable this time. Minerva suddenly looked thoughtful. "When I got back, Jarl Balgruuf told me that he'd made a pilgrimage up to where the Greybeards live. High Hrothgar, right?"
Onmund nodded. "Yeah, it's supposed to be a sort of rite of passage, I guess."
"Did you ever go?"
Onmund thought, then nodded. "Once. When I was ten, I think. Our whole village went at the same time, basically." Onmund closed his eyes. "It was quiet. That's what I remember most."
Minerva sighed. "Quiet, huh? Now that's gonna be difficult for me."
Onmund grinned. "Aw, I'm sure you'll be fine. I believe in you."
Minerva looked at Onmund. She blushed. "I...you mean that?"
"Well...sure."
Minerva looked away and smiled. "...thanks."
Then her stomach grumbled. Onmund laughed and grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's get you some food."
Minerva rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Fine."
The two made their way back down to the main hall, where Minerva's appearance was greeted with loud cheers.
Brelyna
Minerva left early the next morning. "It's about half a day's walk to Ivarstead, and you'll want to get there before dark," Farengar had said while holding ice to his head. Despite it being a pilgrimage point, no cart would head to Ivarstead directly. Apparently getting there was part of the experience, or something.
The three heading back to Winterhold had woken up early as well, both to see Minerva off and to restock before they headed back to the college. The mages stood facing one another as Minerva took a few deep breaths. Her pack was sitting by her feet and her axe was strapped to her side. "Well...um...this is it...I guess..."
Brelyna bit her lip. "Um...yeah..." None of them really knew what to say. It was safe to say none of them had expected this turn of events. "What do you want us to tell the others when we get back?"
J'zargo smirked. "We shall tell them that she apparently is only half human and went to the top of a mountain to train for an indefinite amount of time. That's simple."
Minerva groaned and shook her head. "Just tell them we ran into my brother and I've gone with him for a bit. It's not...a total lie. We did run into him."
Brelyna nodded. "Speaking of Gildas, what are you going to tell him?"
Minerva sighed. "I wrote him a letter last night explaining most of what happened. It should be headed to Solitude soon."
This would be much easier if they knew how long Minerva would be gone. But of course the Greybeards hadn't told anyone when they Shouted their summons. Minerva swallowed. "Okay...okay..." She seemed to be trying to calm her nerves. She turned around. "I'll...be seeing you guys. As soon as I can. Promise."
Then she started walking down the road. The other mages watched her as she grew smaller and smaller, until she turned a bend and disappeared.
"Talos guide you," Brelyna heard Onmund whisper.
Brelyna patted his arm. "She'll be okay."
J'zargo chuckled. "Indeed. And when she returns, J'zargo will be eager to see what she has learned."
Onmund sighed. "But when is that gonna be?"
No one answered. No one knew.
Gildas
It had taken him most of the day to make it to Whiterun by cart. He'd changed out of his Imperial armor into regular clothes to avoid attracting attention on the way. He'd change back after entering the city proper.
As the cart approached the city gates, he saw three people in mage's robes loading some things onto a cart. Recognizing the Winterhold robes, Gildas hopped off the cart and went to take a look. The Khajit, J'zargo, the Nord, Onmund, and the Dunmer, Brelyna. Wait...
"Hey, where's Minerva?"
The mages all turned around. "Oh, hey Gildas!" greeted Brelyna. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Solitude?"
Gildas shrugged. "It's kind of a long story. I'm here to deliver a message. But wasn't Minerva with you?"
The mages all gave each other the side-eye. Uh oh... "What happened?"
"Well, she did send a letter this morning but..."
The mages quickly explained everything that had happened in the three days since Helgen. Gildas stared at them. "You've got to be kidding me." He threw up his hands. "I leave for three days!"
Poor Gildas, he missed all the fun.
Next Chapter: Some excitement on the way back to Winterhold.