Solitude was a beautiful city, with high walls and sturdy buildings. A pearl of the north, filled with warehouses and goods from all of Tamriel. Some of the old bears who fought in the Great War once told me that it was a "tiny piece of Cyrodiil in Skyrim". I, for one, had never seen a city so big. In fact, it made Windhelm, good old Windhelm, look like a village.
"I hope the sacking doesn't last long." I said to a shield brother behind me. "It would be a shame to destroy such a fine city, even if it's filled with imperials."
I was leading my company along the road from Dragon Bridge to the capital. We had been marching for a couple of days, trying our best to join the main army for the attack.
Besides a few scared looks from the local villagers and the occasional wolf, we were unmolested. Most of the legion must have already entered the capital and we found no imperial guards on the way, only stormcloak scouts.
"You worry too much, Einar. With the Dragonborn at our side, these legionnaires will surrender in minutes", said Dorstan, one of the men in my platoon. "Better yet, I bet 15 septims that we will be drinking mead in the Blue Palace tonight, maybe the bitch widow will even drink with us, to a free Skyrim!", he said with his usual cheerful tone.
I ignored him. I had nothing against Elisif, well, nothing personal against her, at least. I just wanted the war to end, I was tired of it. By that time, I had spent most of my youth killing imperials. Skirmish after skirmish, battle after battle, it was always the same. Kill that man, don't get gutted by that other one, don't let their scouts escape, etc, etc.
I was desperate for some peace and quiet.
"Well, if you are right, I might even pay for the drinks tonight. It would be good to finally taste something better than the piss we call ale", I replied, while we continued to march along the road to the main camp, ever closer to the frontlines.
"I am right, you'll see! In a few hours, we will be holding a tankard with one hand and an imperial wench with the other! If they're lucky, in a year they might even have some babies with strong nord blood to strenghten their lineage, Ha!"
Dorstan always loved the sound of his voice. It was one of his many, many annoying traits. I still loved him as a brother, though. We had been friends for close to a decade at that time and fought together more times than any man could count.
"Just...hold your excitement until we actually win this siege, alright? I don't need you celebrating in the shield wall", I said to him while trying to keep the pace with the rest of the men.
"Don't worry about me, Bone-Breaker", he liked to pretend he cared about my position in the ranks. "I will be a good soldier today, no booze until the last imperial is dead or captured."
I nodded and focused on the walk. We still had some distance to cover, even though the city was already fully visible to us, and I definitely didn't want to lose the first assault.
The rest of my men weren't as confident as Dorstan.
Some were holding their amulets of Talos, praying for victory or a good death. Others were drinking potions and chewing hanging moss, which was vile, of course, but it was believed to strengthen one's arm, so it became a bit of a ritual in the militia, mainly because it was very easy to find.
I never had the nerves before battle. Why worry about death when it's certain to come? If I died that day while fighting or much later of old age, what difference would it make? All I could do is make sure I was always worthy of Sovngarde and the Hall of Valor.
Not that I was eager to go to Shor's hall early, as later events would demonstrate.
After what felt like hours of marching, we could finally see the main entrance of the city, and, more importantly, the siege camp.
I had never seen so many brothers in a single place at once before. It was truly huge. A demonstration of Stormcloak power in the wake of our victories across the holds.
Forges, grindstones, alchemy tables and as many tents and bedrolls and the eye could see, it had it all.
A massive banner of Windhelm was close to one the tents, which meant that Jarl Ulfric was already there, probably getting ready to lead the assault. Besides the bear, there was another banner, one with symbols that I couldn't decipher, but would later learn it was in the dragon tongue.
The Dragonborn was also there.
I didn't know much about him, none of us did. All I knew is that he was in Helgen with Ulfric when the dragons came back.
And that he was the reason they were mostly gone, once more.
Sure, sometimes we heard about a dragon flying over some mountain, but the attacks on settlements became extremely rare after the Dragonborn was announced by the Greybeards in High Hrothgar.
I remember walking to a comrade near a fire, a young man with a large scar on his cheek, close to the banners, and asking about the siege. I needed to know if any orders had been issued for the new arrivals.
"Not that I know of, no. Jarl Ulfric said he would formally demand the city's surrender before an attack. He and the Stormblade are in the main tent right now, planning our strategy for today", the man said while sharpening his sword, an ugly thing made of iron, but richly decorated with runes in the handle, an heirloom, I thought.
"Very well then, friend. My men and I will find a place to rest our feet while it is all decided. I hope to see you in battle, go with the Gods", I said, while saluting him.
That was not ideal.
Too much time before a fight can destroy the cohesion of any army. The doubts, fears, worries, they all flourish when a soldier is idle. I could only hope the Jarl would decide about the matter sooner than later.
Dorstan noticed my apprehension – he always did.
"I suppose that means we get some rest, eh? Worry not, Bone-Breaker, me and the boys shall find something to do to pass the time. We will be ready to fight at your orders", he said while leading the men through the camp.
Usually, I would stop him, but I knew how tired my platoon was. They deserved a bit of rest, short as it may be.
"Just make sure nobody goes to the front naked and high on skooma...I don't need to be berated by Galmar again." I sighed as I saw them go.
These men were some of the dumbest sons of bitches Skyrim had to offer, but I saw each and every single one of them as a brother.
Or sister, as Estrid, the only woman in the platoon, was still beside me while the rest went on their merry way.
"I never understood how you managed to make warriors out of these scoundrels, sir." She always addressed me as a superior, something quite rare in the militias outside the higher ranks.
"Scoundrels make the best soldiers when they have something real to fight for, Estrid. And my name is Einar, not sir."
She blushed. The girl was infatuated with me, that much was clear, and I did consider marrying her after the war. Estrid was as plain looking as one could be, but she was brawny and very tall, almost taller than I was.
Any baby coming from that woman would grow up to be a giant.
But I knew who I was, and raising a family wasn't something I was interested in doing just yet.
I had a reputation to grow and a fortune to make before any of that could happen.
"Do me a favor and find the quartermaster. My cuirass needs some attention. There is only so much mending I can do before the mail is completely gone." I said while removing my leather gambeson and mail shirt.
Like most stormcloak issued equipment, it was light, cheap and simple, but it did make us much more agile than the bulky legionnaires with their steel plates.
"Yes, sir", she never learned. "I will bring it back to you as soon as it gets fixed."
"Do it quick enough and I just might give you a bottle of honningbrew I was saving." I replied, enjoying her excited look while she took off with my armor.
Everybody loved honningbrew mead, and since the siege of Whiterun damaged some of the vats, it was in short supply. I was one of the lucky few who managed to save a few bottles.
Giving her one was only fair. The girl was one of my best warriors and probably the hardest worker in our group. If she did well in Solitude, I planned to write a letter to Galmar, recommending her for a promotion. Ice-Veins Estrid, heh.
It had a nice tune to it.
I didn't just sit on my arse doing nothing while others worked or had fun, though. I walked to the main tent, the one close to the two banners, and talked to the massive beast of a man that was guarding it.
"Hail, brother. I am Einar, Bone-Breaker of the 2nd Warband, I request an audience with the Jarl. I have questions about the siege and need to ready my men."
The giant, bearded monster in front of me saluted me when he heard of my rank and nodded with his head.
"Hail, Bone-Breaker. I shall ask Lord Ulfric and bring you an answer, wait a moment", he said, before turning around and entering the large leather tent.
I was nervous, of course. I had spoken to Ulfric several times in the past, but only as an untested soldier. Now, I was a leader of men, a warrior with reputation and a war veteran in my own right, but I still wasn't sure of what to say to my liege.
The time it took the guard to answer my request only made me more anxious, but it was his answer that truly made me feel like an Unblooded again.
"You may enter. The Dragonborn is also inside; he wants to speak to you."
He what now? The Dragonborn, hero of Skyrim and Stormblade of the Stormcloak Militia wanted to talk...to me?
That day got more interesting by the minute.
I swallowed my fears and entered the tent. It was somewhat dark inside, with only a few candles lightening a table with a map and the two men studying it.
One of them was my true king and liege, the other was the most powerful warrior in Tamriel.
I walked closer to them and bowed in respect.
"Hail, my lords. I am Einar of the 2nd Warband, I humbly request to ask about the plans for the siege. My men are restless for battle and at your command."
"Get up, friend, a man of your worth bows to no one!" Ulfric said with a welcoming smile on his face, extending his hand to me.
I grabbed it and got up, confused.
"Your deeds in Falkreath and the Reach have not gone unnoticed. I hear you infiltrated Fort Neugrad by yourself and opened the gates for our men, is it true?"
So he knew about Neugrad, I thought.
"Aye, Jarl, but I didn't do it alone. My comrades did most of the fighting in the courtyard, they are the ones worthy of praise", I replied.
A true leader knows how to share glory, or at least that's what old Galmar taught me years ago, when I was a scrawny young man trying to grow a beard.
"Reliable and humble, eh? You are a better nord than me, Einar, that's for damn sure", he jested, while moving back to the table with the map.
He was honoring me, and usually leaders do that when they are about to send you into the fire.
It mattered little, I would fight in the depths of Oblivion for him. I knew the worth of an oath.
The other man was silent, and didn't stop studying the map when I entered the tent. It was dark, and I couldn't see much of his face, but I noticed he was wearing a strange kind of armor, full of spikes and what looked like scales, giant ones at that.
I knew it had to be the Dragonborn.
Ulfric noticed me looking at him and decided to make introductions.
"I suppose you two didn't have the opportunity to meet before. Torvald, this is Einar, the man I was talking to you about. I am sure you have plenty to discuss."
"Yes, lord, we do indeed." The man's voice was as deep as his gaze and, as he moved closer to the candles, I could see a bit of his face.
A nord, of course, middle-aged and of a noble posture but there was something off about him. His long, gray hair and unkempt beard hid most of his features, but his eyes were different from anything I had ever seen.
They were almost white, showing no emotion, none at all. His expression was completely blank.
"I heard a lot about you, Bone-Breaker, and I liked what I heard. You and your men will follow me into battle today." He stated, while also going back to the map.
"As soon as Tullius refuses to surrender the city, I shall advance and take down the main gate. Your company is tasked with securing the Blue Palace and ensuring Lady Elisif's safety. Kill anyone who tries to stop you, this task must be achieved as quickly as possible."
"Of course, Stormblade." I thought it better to address him by his rank, especially when I would serve under his orders, "but, if I may ask, lord, which troops will clear the main road to the Palace? My platoon has 22 warriors, with me included, ready to fight, but unless we try to infiltrate, we would be facing hundreds along the way."
"Worry not, I shall take down the legionnaires in Castle Dour, which will open a path for you", he replied, while barely looking at me.
I was sure I misunderstood him.
"Which Warband will you lead, lord?" I asked, trying to make sense of the absurdity he had just told me.
"None. As I said, I will deal with the soldiers in Castle Dour and you and your brothers shall advance to the Palace."
He was serious.
I knew he was powerful, don't get me wrong. But one man, dragonborn or not, fighting against the entire garrison of Solitude by himself?
He was mad, he had to be.
And I was worse, because I was honor bound to follow his "plan" to a certain death.
I looked over to Ulfric, to see if my liege would see the insanity of the idea and call it off, but he didn't look taken aback at all. It was almost as if it was such an obvious strategy that it didn't even need to be explained further.
The Dragonborn noticed my apprehension.
"I understand that what I am asking of you is...unconventional. Nevertheless, I assure you I know what I am doing. Your men will be fine as long as you follow my lead, Einar. You have my word", and with that being said, he stopped looking at the map and walked to the entrance of the tent, where the sunlight allowed me to see him clearly.
Dragon scales. His armor was made of dragon scales.
He looked at me before leaving, and said:
"Be ready at my signal, and when I tell you to find cover, obey."
Find cover? From what? Arrow volleys? Catapults from the outside? I had not seen a single one of those being built at the camp.
It was painful talking to that man. Always mysterious, always enigmatic, never simple. But I was a soldier, and a damn good one at that. I knew not to ask questions.
If he wanted me to take cover, I would, and if he wanted me to jump off a bridge, I would as well, without hesitation.
Because, even if he was strange, he was still Ysmir, Dragon of the North, and a nord does not refuse the commands of a man chosen by the Gods.
I accepted my fate and bowed to the Jarl before taking my leave. He smiled at me and told me to have faith in the Stormblade.
I didn't need faith, I needed to down a bottle of honningbrew or two before I was killed in the assault.
But I didn't, because I had already promised the one I had to a shield-sister, Estrid. A good woman that would die today because of a foolish plan, along with twenty other nord warriors.
I consoled myself with the thought of Sovngarde and of crossing the great bridge of whalebone to enter the Hall of Valor. Infinite lifetimes of fighting, eating, drinking and singing.
Aye, at least the painful deaths that awaited me my men would be greatly rewarded.
As I wandered around the camp, I could see Estrid arguing with one of my so-called scoundrels.
Yes, I ended up liking the name.
She was berating him for getting drunk so close to battle, which I fully expected of Dorstan and my fellow brothers.
Heh, If only she knew what we were assigned to do, she would be deep in her cups as well.
"You idiot! We may be deep in enemy territory in a matter of hours and you decide to down a keg?! When the Bone-Breaker finds out, you'll wish you never made it this far in the war!" She screamed, as furious as the Sea of Ghosts in winter.
Damn, I should have married the broad.
I couldn't let one of my men get killed before the mission even started, so I intervened.
"Hail, Estrid! What did this wretch do this time?" The warrior, Auld, one of my axemen, looked at me with a mixture of fear and gratefulness in his face.
"Sir! He emptied an entire keg of mead! He is in no condition to fight!" she said, trying to control her voice.
"Nonsense, he just needs a bucket of cold water and some food in his belly. We scoundrels are used to this kind of thing." I really did like the name. "Now, what about my cuirass?" I asked, hoping to make that sabre cat of a woman in front of me calm down.
"I..Yes, the cuirass. I delivered it to the quartermaster, he said it would be fixed in a hour or two", she answered, while Auld quietly walked away to save himself from another scolding.
"Good, make sure he gets it done, we have...quite a challenge today, and I need our equipment to be in perfect condition."
She noticed in the tone of my voice that there was something I was not telling her just yet, but she didn't bring it up.
The girl was a good soldier.
"Of course, sir. I'll go wait around the forge until I can bring it to you." she said, embarassed about the ordeal with our fellow brother.
"No, you won't, Estrid" I said with a smile.
She looked at me again, confused and half expecting to be reprimanded for almost killing a comrade with her shrieking.
I gestured to a round table near one of the camp's entrances, where we left our supplies and belongings.
"Care to share a bottle of honningbrew with a fellow scoundrel?"
If I had to send 21 nords to their deaths that day, I definitely wouldn't do it sober.
To Oblivion with that!