Nariilu tried to jump forwards when Jarl Balgruuf dragged the axe across Stormcloak's neck, leaving little pieces of hair scattering on the floor. Gods, how sharp was that blade? A hand, J'zargo's, she realized a second later when claws dug into her skin, held her back by her upper arm. The Jarl lifted the axe, his eyes burned. Nariilu yelled nothing in particular. Another hand grabbed her other arm.
Jarl Balgruuf slung the axe over his shoulder and offered a hand down to the kneeling Stormcloak.
Nariilu blinked, sucking in a breath, sure that the Jarl was simply pretending, and would swing the axe down any second.
"The Ulfric Stormcloak I used to know would never kneel for anyone, not even to himself," Jarl Balgruuf said. "It seems your first real defeat has taught you humility." Stormcloak just looked at the outstretched hand, not taking it. Nariilu stared incredulously. He was still alive.
He really had a talent for dodging death.
Stormcloak finally took the Jarl's hand after what seemed like days and stood. Nariilu relaxed and felt herself be released from one side. Lydia had grabbed her left arm to hold her back. Nobody had thought to cover her mouth; she could've Shouted Jarl Balgruuf away if she had thought that quickly. J'zargo kept a tight, prickling hold on her until she shrugged him off.
"I trust your judgement, Dragonborn," Jarl Balgruuf warned. "I'm sure you have reasons for sparing him beyond what you'll say in my Court.
Gods, she felt beyond foolish, letting her composure slip like that. It was unbecoming of someone of her standing, of her titles, to cry out when the man that was supposed to be nothing more than her servant was about to be executed, with more than enough reason for it. She supposed that if she was pressed on her reaction, she would claim desperation at the possibility of losing her investment in Stormcloak.
"Now," the Jarl said, clasping Stormcloak on the shoulder, "when is a dragon coming to my hold?"
Ulfric felt comfortable in the hard chair around the round table they used to plan the final steps before the Dragonborn summoned a dragon. Odahviing, she said. Winged Snow Hunter. A dragon well known in the ancient texts; he had been functionally a personal assassin for Alduin, finding and destroying any dragon even thought to be rebellious to his rule before it became an issue, later becoming a replacement for Alduin himself after his disappearance near the end of the Dragon War. He commanded legions of dragons from a hidden lair the Dragonguard never found.
Not quite Alduin's second in command, that honor went to the cruel Paarthurnax, another dragon lost to history. Odahviing was arguably just as dangerous, if not more because of his tendency to trick his targets into false security. A dragon who regularly outsmarted other dragons, a dragon who killed dozens, if not hundreds, of dragons himself was something to be wary of. Dragons fell in line to power, and the fact that most followed him after Alduin's disappearance was a testament to his power.
Balgruuf's face fell as Ulfric relayed this. "He has an army," Balgruuf muttered, almost too low for Ulfric to hear from across the large round table. The high ceilings and walls covered in tapestries swallowed their voices. Ulfric found himself straining to hear himself, though he wasn't quite sure if that was because his heart was still pounding in his chest at the sheer miracle of being alive at the moment.
"We aren't prepared for more than one dragon," said the captain of the guard, a short, stocky Nord named Holvir. He punctuated his statement with a pointed look at Ulfric, as if to say it was his fault Whiterun wasn't ready to face a dragon. He supposed Holvir had a point.
"I've never fought more than a single dragon at once," the Dragonborn lied easily, as if she had already forgotten the day before. She lounged in her chair, the only one who seemed unbothered by what Ulfric revealed about Odahviing. Colette shifted next to her, but didn't reveal the truth. "They fight alone, even if they travel together. I doubt he'll bring others."
Irileth spoke up. "He's already more powerful than the average dragon. Even if he's alone-"
"He will come alone," the Dragonborn stated firmly. "By Shouting his name, I'm issuing a challenge. It would show weakness to bring others."
"Odahviing was known for his trickery," Ulfric said.
"To bards from the Merethic Era," the Dragonborn protested, "in epic histories. I'm sure they're based in fact, but you can't deny bardic tales are exaggerated at best. Besides," she gestured to Colette, "Colette Marence's wards have held up to dragons, and that's with her casting it. Runework is stronger, and runework by multiple talented mages…" She trailed off. Ulfric wondered if anyone else noticed the corners of her mouth just barely twitching with pride.
The court mage, Farengar, Ulfric thought, spoke up. "Plus, my recent experiments into soul gem-charged spells have been successful."
"Casting spells with soul gems?" Colette asked. "Such as with a staff, or as in an enchantment?"
"I've been working on a technique that involves crushing a gem over the ward, similar to enchanting," Farengar said. He frowned. "I've made a ward that's immune to physical blows as well as spells, but only on a small scale. It's been blocking my desk for almost a week."
"A week?" J'zargo asked. He stood behind the Dragonborn; there weren't enough chairs at the table. Ulfric was surprised he was able to sit instead of J'zargo. He assumed it had to do with his knowledge of dragons, and on the weakpoints of Whiterun's defenses. "What size soul did this one use?"
"Greater."
"I'd like to test my Thu'um against it, if you wouldn't mind, Farengar," the Dragonborn said. He nodded. "How many grand and greater gems do you have?"
"I'll have to check, but a few dozen greater, and maybe…" Farengar closed his eyes and counted on his hands. "I'd say around five or so grand."
"I should have some lying around. I'd've brought some from the College had I known." The Dragonborn looked at Colette. She shook her head. She turned in her chair to look behind her at J'zargo. He shrugged. "Someone might be selling some down at the market. The caravans usually have-"
"The caravan isn't due to arrive for three weeks," Balgruuf said. "Will it be enough to cover the Plains District?" Of course he'd want to protect the Plains District. It was the home to most of his citizens, and very flammable. Ulfric thought about pointing out that they'd be doing their best to keep Odahviing near Dragonsreach, which put the Winds District at far more risk, even though those buildings were almost fully ancient stone compared to the wood and thatch of the lower level.
"I'd like to inspect your ward before making any judgements," Colette said. "We need to meet with the Priests of Kynareth, too, since the skills of the casters will affect how large these new wards will be. If not, we can supplement with standard runework to protect the entire city."
"Where will the city guard be placed?" The Dragonborn asked.
"Concentrated in the Plains District, of course," Holvir said, "but with quite a few in the Winds District, just in case the dragon strays."
"Have you mentioned anything to the Clans? The Companions?" Lydia asked. Ulfric didn't like the way she gripped the edge of the table.
"We're keeping this on a need-to-know basis," Irileth replied. Her eyes darted to the Dragonborn. "The entire Hold will be on high alert, however. We will let the citizens know with enough time to prepare in case they want to support the guard. Or flee. Otherwise, the Hall of the Dead and the dungeon should be safe."
"The Companions might demand to be on the Porch with us," Holvir joked.
The Dragonborn frowned. "They'll kill the dragon before we find out anything."
"Any help the Companions offer is welcome," Balgruuf said. "They know restraint." The Dragonborn scoffed. Balgruuf frowned, but otherwise ignored her to address the mages. "How long will it take to ward my city?"
Farengar and Colette had a short debate. "If all the Priests help-after teaching them my new technique, of course-around a day," Farengar said. He quickly added, "Teaching enhanced runework will take about as long."
"Danica would never allow all of the Priests to leave the Temple for entire days," Balgruuf replied, "Nor would I."
"Then stagger their training," the Dragonborn said. "If these wards last as long as you say, the casting time shouldn't be much of an issue. They could be set street by street over some days."
"I only cast a ward over a small area, but, yes, it's lasting much longer than a traditional rune ward," Farengar said. "But I wouldn't trust a large ward to last more than two days, maybe. It's still experimental."
"That still gives us more time to work with," Colette said. "I'll help at the Temple of Kynareth while some of the Priests are being trained."
"Can we set a time and date?" The Dragonborn asked. "With two days to train and another to cast the wards, that leaves us ready to go on Turdas."
"Turdas evening, at best," Farengar countered. "I'd like to leave at least a day rest between training and casting, for everyone."
"Loredas, at dawn," Balgruuf announced. "I wish to give my people time to collect their lives and run, if they choose." A solemn nod went its way around the table. The unspoken statement hung in the air: Balgruuf wouldn't have another Helgen. "I will announce our intentions on Middas." He paused, waiting to see if anyone disagreed. No one did, and he continued. "What haven't we discussed?"
"The possibility of failure," Irileth said smoothly. She slid her eyes across the table. "This could be the end of Whiterun."
"My victory is written in the Elder Scrolls," the Dragonborn replied. She added, "Complete victory."
"Your victory. Not ours," Irileth clarified.
"My victory is a victory for all of Mundus. If it takes sacrificing Whiterun for the rest of Nirn…" The Dragonborn locked eyes with Balgruuf. "Whiterun will go down in legend as the site of the beginning of the end for Alduin."
"And we will go down in legend when we triumph," Balgruuf added. "It would be foolish to not consider defeat, but I do not expect it to come to that. Whiterun has stood strong against all manner of assailants over the Eras, and hasn't fallen a single time. I do not expect for that legacy to end under my rule."
Of course the Dragonborn had property in Whiterun. Breezehome was down in the Plains District in residential section squashed between the two markets of the city. It had likely been built as a store originally, and later converted to a house, as it was just off the main road and considerably larger than the other homes around it. Ulfric held back behind the Dragonborn and Lydia, behind J'zargo, walking alone as Colette had stayed to begin discussion with Farengar. J'zargo split off soon after they reached the Plains District, heading in the direction of the center markets. As they walked, Lydia filled the Dragonborn in on things she had missed since leaving to defeat his army, including her investments in various stores, requests from citizens, and important gossip.
It seemed the Dragonborn had some stake in just about every merchant in the city, if the long list of profit Lydia reported was to be believed. Ulfric made a rough estimate that she had made around ten thousand Septims from investment alone in the five months she was gone. He wondered what she was planning to do with all that money; most took an entire year to make that much.
Even more so, he wondered why they were openly discussing her riches as they walked through the busy afternoon streets. He supposed not many would attempt to rob the Dragonborn, especially in Whiterun. Judging from the frequent waves and nods she gave out on their trip up to Dragonsreach and then back down to Breezehome, she was popular here.
The Daedric sword on her waist would be a rather solid deterrent as well, though he supposed it was common knowledge she wasn't often in Whiterun. Still, a common thief wouldn't be much of a match for her, or Lydia, who Ulfric assumed was in Whiterun all the time. Lydia was better outfitted than Iona had been; she carried an ebony sword with matching shield strapped to her back, both unenchanted, he noted.
"…and ebony armor arrived from Riften yesterday," Lydia finished, just as they arrived.
"Excellent," the Dragonborn said, pulling a crowded keyring from her pouch and inspecting a few before settling on one and unlocking Breezehome. Ulfric could clearly see a line in the age of the wood near the thatch roof, matching the bright lumber of the rebuilt houses instead of the dark weathered look the rest held, and some of the first floor had recently been replaced with stone. He smiled to himself; his army burnt the Dragonborn's house. "Stormcloak, try it on later today," the Dragonborn continued. "We'll spar so I can make any adjustments based on your guard. What about the glass set? I hope my letter arrived."
Lydia shifted. "I sent the request to Jorrvaskr." The Dragonborn paused with her hand on the door handle, waiting for her to continue. "Eorlund agreed, but Kodlak himself came by to speak with you. He told me to send you to Jorrvaskr as soon as you have a free minute."
Ulfric kept his thoughts to himself, and under different circumstances would have congratulated her. Kodlak was a famously private man, only rarely talking with anyone outside of the Companions. He recalled the Dragonborn mentioning something in passing about being a Companion. It wouldn't be hard for her to meet the battle standards they surely set for entry. Regardless of her membership, Harbinger Kodlak Whitemane requesting a conversation was reason for celebration.
He realized she didn't share the same feelings towards the Harbinger when he saw the Dragonborn frown and squeeze the handle. "Did he say what for?"
"No."
The Dragonborn sighed and pushed open the door. "That figures. I imagine I won't be getting my armor until we speak. I'll go tomorrow." She stopped just inside the doorframe, looking around and blocking most of the inside from Ulfric's view. "I thought you said Uthgerd was here."
"I left her training in the yard," Lydia clarified.
"Ah," the Dragonborn said. She nodded and disappeared inside. Lydia turned back to him and motioned for him to follow.
"Your armor is in the side room," Lydia said, leading him through the main hall of the house comprised of a cozy living space and kitchen. The fire burned brighter than it did hot, though it was enough to keep the mid-sized room comfortable. Ulfric doubted it would be effective in the winter; quilts and furs piled on chairs and pinned to walls seemed to confirm.
Lydia passed stairs and full bookshelves to the back of Breezehome, where a secondary room wrapped around the side to the back of the house. Here, the floor and walls were tight stonework instead of wood and a door was left open to the outside. It was colder in this room, in no small part from the draft coming from the open door. The Dragonborn passed by it with a tall Nord woman at her side, Uthgerd, no doubt. Ulfric couldn't see much about her from the short glimpse he got, except that she was blonde, and hunched in her stance, though he wasn't sure if that was her natural posture or just temporary to speak quietly to the short Dragonborn.
Lydia crouched beside one of many crates at the foot of an undressed bed shoved in a corner, opposite an alchemy and enchanting table. "Sorry for the mess," she said, motioning with her chin to the empty shelves half up on the walls. "She wanted to renovate, and this is a new addition. Not everything is in its place." She pulled a helmet out, handing it to him, before reaching back in and setting down gauntlets and boots. "You'll be sleeping here. I'll set up a firepit and make the bed before the evening." She looked around the room, crowded with boxes and chests and crates and added, "And move some of this junk out of the way."
Ulfric decided he liked Lydia much better than Iona. "Thank you, Lydia," he said, inspecting his new helmet. She nodded politely. He had never been one for helmets; he had an image to uphold, once, though not anymore, and having a helmet on made it that much more difficult to be recognized in battle, by both fellow and enemy soldiers. Really, he'd only ever wore one in the Great War, for all it did him, and all the comfort it took away. He supposed he could get used to the sensation, though the narrow eye slit had him wondering just how well he'd be able to see. Regardless, Ulfric couldn't wait to see the look on Balgruuf's face when he walked onto the Porch in full ebony armor.
He couldn't believe Balgruuf had let him live, even worse, the Jarl had forgiven him. Forgiveness! To the man that tried to overthrow him and nearly burned his entire city. Balgruuf was a strange man, to say the least.
His mind drifted his Dossier; the Dragonborn said she had it in Whiterun somewhere. He wanted get his hands on it and see exactly what the Thalmor believed was worth writing down about him. To find out what the Dragonborn knew about him, or thought she knew about him; he had no doubt she had read it. Perhaps she had allowed her Housecarl to read it as well. "The Dragonborn mentioned she had a specific book. A Thalmor Dossier," he said.
Lydia furrowed her brow in thought, then frowned. "I haven't seen a Thalmor book on the shelves, though it could be in one of her chests. You'll have to ask her yourself. I don't have the keys."
Ulfric sighed through his nose. He didn't want to bring it up with the Dragonborn, he didn't want to think about what she had read in it, though he supposed she had just as much reason to be ashamed of her time with the Thalmor. Maybe she felt some misplaced kinship with him; they both were responsible for the Imperial City falling to the elves, after all.
His train of thought was interrupted by the Dragonborn bursting back through the back door, slamming it shut behind her. She was fuming-and freezing. Her sleeves were frosted to the elbow. She cursed loudly and then opened the door and turned to yell out of it. "You can head back to Sky Ruler Temple and tell that bitch that I'm the Dragonborn, and she needs to start listening to me instead of whatever shit she pulls out of her own ass!"
"Nariilu, I didn't-" Uthgerd called back from outside, hidden from view.
"If you want to be a Blade, you'll refer to me as the Dragonborn I am!" She cut off. "Tell Delphine to read a history book, and if she still thinks she can order me around like some child, I advise you to get yourself far away from the Temple, because I swear on Ysmir's soul, I will bring down a second Oblivion Crisis." The Dragonborn threw the door shut with such force something fell in the main room.
"Is…everything alright, my Thane?" Lydia dared to ask. The Dragonborn whipped around and glared at her. Ulfric would have sworn under oath that her eyes were glowing like a Khajiit's in the dark-no, they were actually glowing enough to provide light in the dim room. Lydia stood firm and didn't flinch.
"No," the Dragonborn said simply. She flexed her hands in and out of fists beside her. "Ulfric, put that damn armor on. I need to hit something."