Ralof leaned back in his chair as Uhther spoke. His body seemed so relaxed it was as if he were letting the words wash over him like a summer tide. But if his body seemed at ease, the man's eyes were completely at odds with it. They were open and as alert as an eagle at wing. Ralof's eyes were a pale grey that put Uhther in mind of a sky before a storm. The question was, Uhther thought, was it a storm that would break soon? And if so, would he find himself trapped in its fury?
He pointedly ignored Delphine. She was not why he had come here. True he had known he would probably have her to deal with but that was for later. He could feel her eyes on him as well, as frosty and piercing as an icicle. He had to resist the urge to let a shiver run down his spine. Surprisingly, she remained silent all the time he spoke. He supposed her disgust with him did not overcome the old oath of the Blades completely but he could see another storm brewing there and, unlike with Ralof, he had no doubt that that one would break all too soon.
He kept speaking. He could only do what he had planned to do. Tell this remnant of Ulfric's rebellion of his plan, and hope that they would find it to their liking.
Finally, he had finished speaking. Ralof leaned forward in his seat, his arms resting on the table. Goblets and a flagon of wine had been placed in front of them but none of them had poured any out. Ralof did now, pouring so that each goblet was nearly full to the brim. He passed one to Uhther, smiling wolfishly before passing another to Delphine, as if she were an afterthought.
The woman did not so much as touch the goblet.
'It's an interesting proposal, Dragonborn,' Ralof said, his eyes glittering mischief, 'But I don't see how it would be possible. The terms of your amnesty were quite clear and what you propose violates those terms, does it not?' He was smiling but there was a calculating look in his eye. This was not a man given to impulsive moves, Uhther knew. Ralof would wait for the right moment then act with deliberate and calculated force.
If all Stormcloaks had been like him, Uhther thought, my job would have been much harder.
'It was Tullius's amnesty, if you recall,' Uhther said, coyly. This got a bark of laughter from Ralof and a smile from two of his men. 'And terms can be renegotiated. It has been a few years now, and you've held to the agreement.'
Ralof leaned back in his chair, regarding Uhther with an almost appraising look.
'Letting us come out of hiding is one thing,' Ralof said, 'but the old bastard will likely return the Shrine of Talos to the Temple of the Divines before he'd let us join or form any kind of army.'
Uhther glanced back outside, careful to keep his face innocent.
'Seems to me like you've already done that.'
Ralof's face was the picture of hurt innocence.
'This is merely a gathering of old friends,' he protested, 'here at your invitation, I might add.'
Delphine snorted, impatiently. Uhther was sure her self-control was starting to wear thin. Perhaps it would be best to bring these talks to an end. There had been enough waiting around anyway.
'Well will these friends of yours follow me? Will they join me in this?'
Ralof's expression changed. He was all serious thought now.
'I think they will,' he said, slowly, 'but it will need to be said in the right way. Many of them still think of you as the man who killed Ulfric. The one who ended the Stormcloaks.'
Uhther was not surprised to hear a touch of anger in Ralof's voice. He had been a staunch supporter of Ulfric and a firm believer in his cause. Something that Uhther could understand. He often thought if more of the Stormcloaks had been like Ralof, and he had never found that dossier, he might well have joined them himself.
He and Ralof had been enemies in the rebellion but they had known each other before Uhther had ever joined the legion. Ralof had been one of the first men he had spoken to after he had returned to Skyrim, what felt like a lifetime ago. They had escaped together from Helgen and Alduin's first attack. This had been fortunate because it had been nothing but that recognition that had stopped Ralof from drawing his axe and attacking Uhther the first time they had crossed paths after the rebellion had ended. Faendal and Camilla's marriage celebration. Instead they had each bought a tankard of good Nord ale and had talked.
Even now, Uhther was not sure if he could trust Ralof, however much he might like the man. But that did not change the fact that he needed his help. His and that of the men who now followed him.
'We will be carrying on what Ulfric started,' Uhther said, carefully, 'but done right this time. Ulfric was angry at the Empire and so lashed out at them. But that just led to us killing each other. Nord against Nord, man against man, when we should have been fighting the Thalmor. They are the true enemy.' Uhther had not mentioned the dossier, if Alaric had then there was no need to salt a wound, and he had certainly not brought up the business of the Towers. No sense making things more complicated than they needed to be. 'Most in the legion feel the same way you do,' he went on, ignoring the sneer of derision from one of Ralof's men, 'they hate the Thalmor and want the return of Talos as much as you do. If we can drive them from Skyrim, they will join with us.'
'I remember Ulfric saying something similar before Markarth,' Ralof said, dryly, 'things did not work out so well back then.'
Uhther nodded. 'But this time we will be fighting the right people. And you will have something this time that Ulfric never had.'
Ralof's storm grey eyes met his own. Uhther could see understanding there. And excitement.
He is with me, Uhther thought, careful not to let relief show on his face.
'I think I know how to convince them,' Ralof said, 'give me two days and we will be ready to strike north.'
That was apparently the spark that lit the tinderbox of Delphine's anger. She was on her feet faster than Uhther could blink, her wine goblet sent spilling over the table.
'I will not tolerate this!' She near enough snarled. 'I will not have this rabble on the Karthspire for two days.'
'Sit down, Delphine,' Uhther said, with a calm he did not feel. He had been far too lenient these past few years. He had not needed the Blades and so had ignored them. But he would not allow this. Delphine had clearly forgotten who he was. The woman was staring down her nose at him, nostrils flaring. Yes, a reminder was certainly past due.
'You have no right...' she began. But that was as far as she got.
'I have every right!' Uhther's voice boomed inside the tent in a way that had every Blade, Stormcloak, and even Lydia reaching for weapons. He had inflected his voice with the power of Fus, a trick that the Greybeards had taught him, not enough to be a true Thu'um, but enough make his voice seem as thunder.
Delphine's eyes had widened and she even backed away a step as Uhther rose to his own feet and turned his gaze on her.
'You have forgotten who I am,' Uhther's voice rumbled dangerously, 'and I have been far too tolerant of your oath breaking.'
That did get a reaction. Delphine, whatever her faults, was no weakling, in spirit or body, and her shoulders squared at the accusation.
'I have broken no oath,' she said, 'the oath of the Blades allows us to serve none who spares the life of a dragon. You refused to kill Paarthurnax and so you lost our service. I warned you that would be the price.'
In answer, Uhther pulled out a thick book bound in brown leather. "The Rise and Fall of the Blades", the copy he had brought out from Apocrypha.
'The oath of the Blades is to serve he who is of the Dragonblood, as it was with Reman Cyrodiil, and to protect Tamriel from danger. The Blades exist to serve the Dragonborn.' He glared at Delphine who looked back at him, not showing any sign of backing down. 'Do you deny this?'
A moment of silence. Delphine's eyes did not move.
'No,' she said finally, her teeth gritted.
'And who am I?'
'Uhther Stormfist, the Dragonborn.'
'Then,' Uhther said, lowering his voice to its usual note, 'I would say that you and the Blades who follow you have broken this oath. I will give you this one chance to swear yourself again and renew your oath, or else you will no longer be Blades.'
Those piercing blue eyes remained fixed on him, full of a stubborn will, just as they had been on the day they had first met. They were fixed on him a moment enough for Uhther to think she might just attack him or at the least refuse him. A small part of him almost hoped she would. Then, to his surprise, the eyes lowered. She sank to one knee, drew her sword and held it up to him. The other Blades in the tent followed her example.
'I am sorry, Dragonborn,' Delphine said, her voice barely rising above a whisper, 'you are right. The Blades have only had one true duty. To protect and serve the Dragonborn. I give you oath now, to protect you and to serve you. If you would keep me as your Grandmaster, I will continue to do the job. If not, name my replacement and I shall follow them as if they were you.'
Uhther was a little taken aback. Not only by her words but by how readily she had said them. Suspicion rang a faint bell in his mind. Was this a true change of heart? Either way he did not see how he could turn her aside now. Delphine had been a Blade since before the Great War. There could be no denying she was the best person for the job.
'Rise, Delphine,' said Uhther, his voice formal, 'you shall remain Grandmaster of my Blades.' He was careful to emphasise the "my", 'but in future remember who it is who rules the Blades, or else I shall find a Grandmaster who will.'
Delphine inclined her head, her face unreadable, but said no other word. She merely stepped aside to stand beside Lydia, who to her credit did not look taken aback. The other two Blades took places on either side of her.
Uhther turned back to Ralof, who had barely moved while all this had been going on. The other Stormcloaks seemed rooted to the ground, their faces pictures of nervousness.
'I will stay in the temple,' Uhther said, as if nothing had happened, 'send word when you're ready to move out.'
Ralof nodded and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a new arrival entering the tent.
He wore the garb of a courier. He was not a man Uhther recognised.
'Lord Dragonborn,' he spoke in a breathy voice of one who had been running, barely paying attention to the others in the tent, 'I've been looking for you. Got something to deliver, your eyes only.'
Uhther said nothing but indicated for the man to deliver the message. How did they always know where he was?
The courier dug out a letter from his satchel, written on parchment in a hasty hand.
'Here it is,' the courier said, glancing at the letter. Then his eyes widened and gulped. 'My lord,' he said, his voice near panic, 'it's your daughter.'
Terror flooded Uhther's mind. Was it Sofie? Had something happened to her? Lucia had gone off adventuring. Was she hurt? Or worse...?
'She's taken Riften, Lord Dragonborn,' the courier said, 'Your daughter has taken Riften.'
