The cloaked figure ran through the woods, breath coming out in ragged gasps as they tore through the foliage. If one looked closely, they could even see a faint trail of electrical sparks dancing in their wake, almost as if the cloaked figure themselves were made of thousands of lightning bolts. The steady rumble and rustle of many people running could be heard behind the figure, closing in steadily behind the figure. The figure glanced behind them, subconsciously gritting their teeth in frustration. They forced their head forward, urging their already screaming muscles even faster. Behind them, twelve cloaked figures slowly closed in on the figure in the front, dodging and weaving around the trees in their path. They were fast approaching the first figure, close enough that they could make out the individual rips in the first figures cloak. The figure in the front of the twelve reached out a gloved hand, fingers curling in anticipation of finally reaching their quarry. The figure in the front planted their foot before whirling around, taking a deep breath at the same moment. A deep rumble could be heard building in their chest, like a horse building speed. The figure opened their mouth before shouting out into the evening twilight the words that could bring down a mountain. FUS RO DAH! Trees were uprooted and scattered, several of the shattering from the impact of the shout. Dirt and fallen sticks flew and rained through the air. The air became choked with dirt. The figure about the grab the person who just shouted had been blasted back, and could no longer be seen. But their companions had avoided the sudden attack, managing to dash to just outside the range of the shout. They stalked towards the first figure, cloaks billowing in the aftermath of the mouth, while withdrawing daggers from sheaths on their backs. The first figure readied himself for combat, but knew his chances were slim to none. He couldn't beat them in five on one combat, not while he was exhausted and depleted in magicka. And they knew that. Then, silently, a dark shape decended from the sky, the only clue as to it being there being a subdued red color steadily growing brighter, right in the location where the creatures neck would be.

Sunlight streamed through the wooden shutters of my house, shining its bright rays right onto my face. I groaned in frustration, trying in vain to toss and turn myself away from the crippling light, but it was no use. Finally, I heard the voice of my mother, calling me from the kitchen. It had been her turn to cook, so I was taking advantage of the extra sleep. "Alaric, if you don't get down here right now, you're making your deliveries without breakfast. You better hurry up, little boy!" Despite her words, I knew that she wouldn't send me out without a proper meal, and the little boy let me know she wasn't serious. Didn't mean I wouldn't take it as such. I let out an even greater groan before throwing off the wool blanket I had been using off my body. I sluggishly rolled out of my bed, rubbing the built of bacteria out of my eyes, before scowling in annoyance. I was already twelve years old, hardly a little boy. I bent down and fished under out under my bed my pair of shoes. They were comfortable and designed for long distance movement, perfect for the type of work my mother and I do. I slipped on a pair of woolen socks and my shoes, before getting up and stepping out of my small room. There was a staircase to my left, and directly in front of me was the wooden door that opened up into my mother's room. I swung a left and because stomping down the stairs while they creaked in protest. I jumped the last two steps, and landed into out small, but comfortable living room, equipped with two benches and a fireplace in the center. "Here", my mother said while shoving a plate into my hands. On it were still sizzling pieces of bacon, a few slices of golden brown toast, and what looked to be a few eggs worth of perfectly salted and peppered scrambled eggs. I lifted a piece of bacon to my mouth and chomped down, savoring slowly, before shaking my head in disappointment. She beat me again! I thought to myself. We competed every morning to see who could produce better quality food, with her taking the crown almost everytime. "Hurry up and finish that, you have a host of deliveries in Whiterun, and a few in Riverwood. Easy work". My mother set down a host of parcels on one of the benches before rushing back to a side room in our house, where we ran a courier type service for all of Skyrim. We lived near Whiterun, as it was the biggest settlement with the most central location, so we received a lot of work. I scooped up the last of my breakfast on a slice of toast before setting my plate down on a table next to the stairs, and grabbing the numerous packages that were ready for delivery. I grabbed a knapsack that was next to the door and shouted out to my mother. "Ok, I'm making the whiterun deliveries now! I'll be back later." She shouted back in response. "Right, I'll be waiting for you when you come back. Sorry for the rush, but we have a lot of deliveries today. I love you!"

I shouldered the knapsack and stepped out the front door, walking a few steps before breaking into a light jog. It was only a two miles to Whiterun, and after a year of making numerous deliveries there, my stamina shot through the rough, so jogging there was as easy as cooking a perfectly seared steak. After about fifteen minutes, I was greeting the guards at the front gate, who I was familiar with. I stopped and asked them how the area and Whiterun were doing, and they glanced at each other with knowing looks. "What?", I questioned. The guard on the left hesitated for a second, as if debating whether or not he should tell me. Apparently he decided for telling me. "There was a murder, in the High Court of the Skyrim. The High King himself was murdered, and by one man!" The High Court of Skyrim is the highest office that Skyrim has. While each major city, Whiterun being one, is run by its own Jarl, the High Court and King have ultimate authority over the country, and they deal with any big foreign affairs. So for anyone to just walk into what must be a majestic but heavily guarded location is….. ludicrous, to say the least. A look of disbelief washed over my face. "You're telling me one man walked into the High Court and murdered someone? Did he get away?" The guard nodded passionately. Every soldier loves to tell a good story, especially when the one who's listening is interested. "Yes, he did! And apparently, he was the leader of that band of rebels." He turned to his comrade. "What were they called?" His comrade was a lot more subdued than the boisterous first guard. "The Stormcloaks. And now, with the death of the High King, their movement is gaining traction, especially with the diehard Nords." He looked back down the cobbled path leading up to the front gate. "I think that one death made them realize that they could fight back." He focused his gaze back at me. The Whiterun guard uniform consisted of a chain mail underneath a yellow tunic, and a conical shaped helmet that covered the guards full face, so I couldn't see his eyes. "But all this is happening far away from us. Unless you're making deliveries to the far north east and far northwest, you should be fine. Now get inside and make your deliveries. I just got chills." Without another word, I stepped inside the gate that they had cracked open for me. Nords were highly superstitious, and my mothers and I's job relied on our relationship with the people, as they could always choose to use another courier service. If that meant I had to believe their crazy superstitious, then that's fine by me.

I ran around Whiterun, moving from house to house, glancing at the houses that I needed to hit. Thinking about the Nords traditions made me reflect on the customs my mother had tried to instill in me years ago, but have since forgotten. We were Redguards, a race of people who hailed from the country of Hammerfell. My mother and I had a bit lighter skin than most of our brethren, but still a few shades darker than even the most tanned of Nords. My mother had always tried to make me remember my heritage, despite where we live, but I had never paid much attention to it. In my self-contemplation, I reached into my Knapsack and realized that I had finished all the deliveries I had in Whiterun. I jogged back to the front gate when Farengar, the only wizard Whiterun contained, called to me. "Alaric!" I redirected my jog towards Farengar, who held out a thick leather-bound book towards me. "History of the Dragons. I know you enjoy this particular subject, so I found this in my collection. I Hope you enjoy it." I met Farengar a few months into my courier job. I had delivered some sort of scroll to him, and had tried to strike up a conversation. He had evaded every attempt at conversation until I looked down at the scroll and realized it was a map that had a series of dots on it. I noticed that there was a pattern to them, and pointed this out to him. He had looked at me with surprise all over his face before rushing back to a small bedroom that was connected with his office, and set down a few more maps in front of me. He asked me to look at them and see if I could notice anything about them. I pointed out several patterns that he had apparently not seen before. After a brief minute of him silent studying the maps and me, he asked me if I liked to read. I nodded passionately, and he dug under the table in the middle of his room before withdrawing a thin, weathered book. On the cover, the title "The most infamous weapons and how they got that famous" could be read. He handed to me and asked me to read it, and let him know when I finished. And that was how he and I became friends. He gave me reading material, and I helped him with whatever research he was doing. I don't know why he values my advice so much, but I wasn't about to argue with free books I nodded my thanks to Farengar, clutching the book tightly on my hand. I took off back towards the front gate, before exiting it and starting back down the path. I glanced up towards the sun, and manged to gather that it was a decent way past noon. I had to hurry if I wanted to finish all my deliveries before night fell.

I arrived back at the house lightly coated in a layer of sweat. I had managed to get back just as the dark was setting in, and was greeted with the sight of my mother sat by the firepit, staring blankly into the flames. "Hello, mother" I called out, hoping to stir her out of her reverie. She jumped slightly before focusing her eyes on me. "Oh, hello Alaric. I was just praying and thinking." I sat down next to her on the bench. "Why do you even pray? You know nobody's going to answer you." I said with a somewhat disparaging attitude. She simply smiled at me with a look on her face that said she knew something I didn't. "Oh, they answer. Just not in the ways you would expect. After all, I prayed you would grow up healthy, and you did." I shook my head. "That would've happened anyway, without you praying." She just smiled before leaning forward and placing her forehead on mine. "Sorry that you have to work this hard at your age. You should be out playing, not traveling the countryside. So I'm sorry for that." Her tone was apologetic. "Its fine, I like doing this anyway." I glanced at the bucket next to her feet, that usually held water. "Oh, do we need water? I'll go get some." I stood up and stretched before bending down, grabbing the bucket, and jumping out of the front door. I was gone for five minutes, and I knew something was horribly wrong when I came back. The the front door of the house was hanging on its hinges, and I could se