Chapter 6

Loredas, the 2th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys enjoyed a relaxing and soothing evening with Gerdur and Hod. She described the highlights of her adventures and listened to Gerdur tell of what had changed in Riverwood, which was nothing really. Gerdur's fish chowder was as good as she remembered, and she slept better than she had since leaving the College of Winterhold. She didn't really want to leave the next morning, but she knew she could never stay in Riverwood. The town was simply too small for her, and she had too much to do.

The journey back to Whiterun was much slower than their trip to Riverwood. They had a party of four and only three horses, so someone either had to ride double or walk. Camilla wasn't a large woman, but the rest of them were also wearing steel armor, which added to the horse's burden. They switched off every couple of miles so that everyone took a fair turn walking. While it wasn't a tiring journey, it wasn't as quick as the journey to Riverwood when they had all been mounted. On the plus side it gave her a good chance to have a long talk with Camilla about the finances of her rapidly growing band of followers.

Camilla was eager to learn all she could. She asked questions about their sources of her income, primarily looting bandits and Nord barrows. She also asked about their expenses: food, salaries, battle spoils, carts, oxen, horses, and more. She had good insights and suggestions. One of the obvious being that most jarls already had bounties on bandits and other threats. Those could be researched and claimed. She also had questions about dwemer-metal, and what other deals Daenerys had already made. However, her most insightful comment had nothing to do with the finances at all.

"You need a name for this company of yours. We're effectively a mercenary company, even if you don't like calling us mercenaries. That's what people are going to call you as well, until you give us a real name."

Daenerys frowned. "I've thought about that, but I haven't reached a decision. The obvious name to take is the Blades. Fultheim is overseeing all the training of the men. However, the White-Gold Concordat disbanded the Blades. The Thalmor are going to hate me regardless, but naming my followers the Blades would also antagonize the Empire. I've considered doing it anyway. Rumor already has it that I am a Talos worshiper." Which wasn't entirely true. She believed in the divinity of the Talos, and he had likely sent Grandfather to save her, and she was wearing the amulet of Talos, but she didn't pray to any specific gods. Not that it mattered. The rumor was well-established. "While I want to remain neutral in the civil war, that may not be possible. There are advantages to naming my followers The Blades. I would borrow their fame, and I might attract former Blades that are now in hiding."

"My thane," asked Lydia. "Why not simply name them the Dragonguard? It's the original name of the organization that became the Blades, back when they mostly fought dragons."

"Truly?" She paused to think about that when both Lydia and Camilla nodded. "That fits. Back in Westeros the elite knights who guarded the king were called the Kingsguard. Any Blades in hiding who hear it could still seek me out, and if any Imperials object I can point out that they aren't the Blades."

"It also fits with your preference for having sworn followers, my liege." Camilla had been surprised to have been asked to swear, but had sworn her allegiance over her brother's objections. "The Dragonguard were bound by oaths. It's unusual for an unlanded nobles to swear in their followers."

"Very well, it's decided. My military followers are now the Dragonguard. That doesn't change the status for the three of you. You're all still sworn to me personally, and House Targaryen."

The sun had set by the time they arrived at the encampment where her followers were staying. She introduced Camilla to Fultheim and explained her duties. There was a lot to discuss about how she could help, and what had the highest priority. They also went over the longer term projects: progress on the tower shields, recruiting progress, training progress, arranging for new Dragonguard banners to go with the House Targaryen banner. Fultheim was a bit taken aback by the name, but after his initial surprise, he liked it.

"Fultheim, how is Salim Bashir working out?"

Fultheim smiled. "He'll do fine. He's a professional and knows his business. I'm thinking of promoting him and Jenassa. We're getting large enough that I need seconds."

"Do it," agreed Daenerys promptly. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. One more thing, an Imperial officer stopped by this morning, Legate Quentin Cipius. He wanted to talk to you." Fultheim's tone was matter of fact, no apprehension or judgment. "I told him you wouldn't be back until tomorrow, and to look for you at Jorrvaskr."

Daenerys nodded in understanding while she processed this development. She should have foreseen this. All the Imperial soldiers wandering around Whiterun had to have a camp somewhere close-by. It was more surprising that she hadn't heard from the Empire sooner. Was he here to talk about their lost patrol? Or just to sound her out on her politics? "Did he say what he wanted to talk about?"

Fultheim shrugged. "I didn't ask. Not my business."

She kept her vexation in check. Fultheim followed her and had no interest in the politics of the civil war. Deferring to her was the right decision, even if it left her in the dark. "How much did he see of our training?"

Fultheim scowled. "Enough to get a count of our numbers and see us training with the ballistae."

While she wasn't exactly making a secret of her plan to fight dragons, she wasn't happy about a potential enemy just walking up and getting a look at her forces. "Now that I'm back with the horses, I want you to set up a patrol schedule with our scouts. It will be good practice for them, and I don't want anyone else sneaking up on us, even if this is supposed to be friendly territory."

Fultheim nodded sharply. "I already planned on it. I won't get caught with my breeches around my ankles again."

.oOo.

It was mid-morning the next day before Daenerys arrived back at Jorrvaskr with Sofija and Lydia. A quick word with one of the servants confirmed there was someone waiting for her, but it wasn't who she expected. Jon Battle-born had apparently been waiting for two days to speak with her. She had met him once, briefly at the celebration Jarl Balgruuf threw when she slew the dragon. Although, she had seen him hanging out around the market square. She was more than a bit curious about what he wanted. The Battle-born clan had been friendly enough during the celebration the jarl threw in her honor. However, their manner had chilled quite a bit after the few days. Probably due to the rumors that she favored the Stormcloaks, because the Battle-born clan were quite vocal supporters of the Empire.

She found Jon Battle-born on the patio behind Jorrvaskr overlooking where the Companion's practice ground. Despite only meeting him once, she recognized him quite easily. The gods had been generous when they sculpted his face, gracing him with an abundance of rugged good looks. He kept his blond hair and beard neatly trimmed. He dressed like a warrior in simple leathers that left his muscular arms bare and wore a sword on his hip. In contrast to his dress, he was crouched over a scroll of paper with quill in hand. From the inkstains on his hand, he spent a lot of time with ink and quill.

"Jon Battle-born, I hear you wanted to talk to me."

He looked up from his scroll and smiled broadly. "Well met, Lady Targaryen. I was indeed hoping to talk with you. I heard a story the other day about the Night King and a warrior maid called Arya Stark. It sounded to me like a tale that needed to be told, so I tracked the story back to here, but there was a lack of details to the story, so I was hoping to hear it from the source."

That wasn't what she expected. "Are you a historian then?"

"What? No, I'm a bard, the real kind of bard, a warrior poet of Nord tradition, not some poncy milk-drinker that sings the same songs over and over in a tavern and chases barmaids."

That startled a laugh out of Daenerys. "Do you know Sven from Riverwood?"

Jon laughed along. "No, I just know the type. They give bards a bad name. So, lass will you tell me about the Night King and Arya Stark?"

Daenerys considered that for a moment. Tamriel didn't have ravens. News made its way slowly by traders and word of mouth. Bards didn't carry the news any faster, but they gave it shape. People remembered songs and stories better than just facts. While the story of Arya Stark and the Night King probably wouldn't hurt her, it would raise more questions. On the other hand, the story was already out there. This would give her a chance to make sure the story didn't hurt her. She could also be sure that it gave full credit where it was due. If the story worked out, she might even share some other stories of her past. "The story of Arya Stark is one that should be told, but is that really the story you're interested in? Or is it my story?"

Jon spread out his hands before him in an exaggerated shrug. "Everyone does want to know your stories and where you came from, but it was Arya Stark that I want to know about. It is her story I want to tell."

Daenerys nodded. She would have to think about what parts of her past she would want to share, but that was a worry for another day. "Good. If I agree to this, I insist that it remain her story. You can mention me, but the song must be about Arya." Although she might be putting the cart before the horse. "Also, I'll need to hear one of your songs. In case you haven't heard, I have dragons to fight and men to train to face them. I'm not a bard. If I'm going to spend time telling tales, I want to know that you'll tell it well."

"Aye, that's a fair question. Have you heard, 'The Dragonborn Comes'? That was my work, although every bard in Whiterun is singing it now, and most of them are just singing the refrain and skipping the parts in Dovahzul."

Daenerys frowned briefly. She was very familiar with that song. Anytime a bard spotted her they were sure to sing it. It didn't really say much about her, but to be fair it had spread throughout the city just after her victory over Mir-Mul-Nir. Nobody had known much about her. She had never heard anyone singing anything in Dovahzul. She thought it was a dead language only of interest to scholars. That Jon Battle-born even knew Dovahzul was impressive. He looked earnest, but was he any good?"

"I haven't heard the full version sung. I'd like to hear it."

"Now, lass? Aye, that's fair. I don't have my lute on me, so you'll have to settle for just my voice." He took a deep breath and launched into the song.

Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes

For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows

You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin Naal ok zin los vahriin

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal

Ahrk fin norok paal graan

Fod nust hon zindro zaan

Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal

Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin Naal ok zin los vahriin

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal

Ahrk fin norok paal graan

Fod nust hon zindro zaan

Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

Listening to the entire song and not just the shortened version that she had heard before, Daenerys had to admit that Jon was good. She'd been entertained by minstrels before. He had a smooth voice that carried well. She had heard the song before and hadn't liked it too much, but it was much better when Jon sung it. It didn't hurt that Jon was easy on the eyes. She wasn't sure which impressed her more, that he used Dovahzul, or that he had composed the song at all. You could find a bard singing in almost every tavern, but most of them just repeated songs. Only the best wrote new songs.

"Bravo, well-sung. Hi tinvaak Dovahzul pruzah." You speak Dragontongue well. She was sincere in the compliment. She didn't think he captured all the nuances correctly, but she wasn't sure she had them correct either.

"Nox hi, Dovahkiin." Thank you, Dragonborn.

"I'm surprised you know the language. I didn't know anyone else spoke Dovahzul any longer."

"It's not that uncommon for sons of high ranked clan members to study the language. Some believe that it will give you a better chance of being chosen by the Greybeards." He shrugged. "I can't say whether it works or not. My father wanted me to make the pilgrimage, but I kept putting it off. With the war going on, now isn't the time."

Something felt off to Daenerys. Modesty, from a Nord? Dovahzul had seemed to come naturally to her as well. It had felt like something she had known but forgotten. Was it possible that having an affinity for Dovahzul was related to the ability to learn Shouts? "Learning a whole language is quite an effort for something you just gave up."

He shrugged. "When I was a young lad, learning the Thu'um from the Graybeards sounded grand and honorable. Then I discovered mead and girls. The prospect of living the life of a recluse on top of a mountain is no longer as appealing as it once was."

Daenerys laughed. "Finally, someone who understands. So many seem to think I should seek out the Greybeards." Perhaps even the gods were part of that number. The Red Comet did appear to be pointing to the Throat of the World just after sunset. "I don't fancy the monastic life either…" She trailed off as she noticed a stern warrior marching up to them wearing the armor of a legionnaire. That was unfortunate timing. She nodded at the Imperial officer and held up one finger for him to wait a moment.

"I'm afraid that I must cut our conversation short, Jon Battle-born. Tell me, have you ever considered joining my forces? You would have more time to speak with me about my past."

Jon sighed. "Ah, the call to adventure. My Nord blood urges me to follow, but my Nord heart belongs to another here in Whiterun."

Daenerys hated to cut this conversation short. That wasn't a firm no. If he could be persuaded to join her forces, and if he could learn Shouts, it would make a huge difference in fighting dragons. "I'm afraid that I cannot keep the legate waiting. I'm very busy, but I will make some time for you in the evenings. Wait for me on the patio tonight, and we can discuss Arya Stark and perhaps some more of my past."

"How could any true Nord refuse the opportunity to sit with a lady and hear tales of valor?" He glanced back at the legate. "Alas that another has priority in your heart." He gathered up his scrolls, quill, and ink quickly, and then he gave her a bow. "Until this evening, Lady Targaryen."

Daenerys stood and faced the legionnaire. He was a Nord in his middle ages, three or four decades, brown of hair, but clean-shaven. He had a stern countenance and a stiffness to his posture. Daenerys dipped her head slightly to acknowledge his arrival. "Would I be correct in guessing that you are Legate Quentin Cipius?"

"You are correct. Do I have the honor of addressing Daenerys of the House Targaryen, first of her name, the Unburnt, Dragonborn?"

"Indeed, sir." She had to admire him for getting her titles correct. It showed he did his research because 'first of her name' was not the way she would be styled in the Empire, if they even acknowledged her titles. "Are you here on personal business or official?"

"Official, but I am acting on my own initiative. I have received no orders regarding you, at least not yet. This is strictly an inquiry. I decided to cut through all the rumors and go straight to the source."

"Very practical of you." In his bearing the legate reminded her of the Unsullied: determined, rigid, and disciplined. "Naturally, anything I say will be included in the report you will be sending to General Tullius, including the numbers and disposition of my men that you observed yesterday."

"Not every word, but the gist of it, yes. You are welcome to write your own letter as well, I'll be glad to include it in my dispatch."

"I will likely take you up on that offer, but please, let us sit and discuss this over a cup of wine, like civilized people." She gestured for him to take a seat on the patio.

"An excellent suggestion." The legate gave a slight bow. "Ladies first."

Daenerys sat down. She waited while one of the servants poured them both wine. She sampled hers and waited for the legate to sample his as well before she spoke. "Now, what questions do you have for me on behalf of the Empire?"

"Are you an enemy of the Empire?" asked Quentin Cipius.

Daenerys smiled. He might be a Nord, but his certainly military in bearing, direct and to the point. "No, I have grievances against the Empire, but I am not an enemy."

"Then you do not support the Stormcloak rebellion?" His tone was inquisitive, not accusatory. This was more like a probing thrust in a duel, being a little aggressive to see how the opponent would react.

"I understand the grievances that the Stormcloaks have with the Empire, but I think that the true enemy of both Skyrim and the Empire as a whole is the Aldmeri Dominion. Only the Thalmor gain while men fight men."

He gave a sharp nod of approval at that comment. "Yet, you travel with Stormcloaks?"

"Some of my men were once in service to the jarl of Winterhold, but they never bore arms against the Empire. However, the bulk of my forces were recruited here in Whiterun. My men are being trained to fight dragons, not the Empire. In fact, I told Jarl Ulfric to his face that he should seek a peaceful resolution to his dispute with the Empire."

The Legate nodded. "Interesting. It is also widely said that you worship Talos."

"That would be one of my grievances with the Empire. The people of Skyrim should be free to worship the gods of their choice. The Empire's cowardice in allowing the Thalmor to murder its citizens is another. The treaty only banned the worship of Talos. There are many things that are banned, such as theft, dueling inside the city walls, and sleeping in the streets. Not all such crimes are punishable by death. The Empire is allowing Justicars free reign to murder Empire citizens without trial. Can you honestly tell me you agree with that?"

The legate's face could have been carved from stone. "Whether I agree with it or not is irrelevant. The law is the law."

Daenerys sipped her wine. In her eyes the Empire had rolled right over and showed its belly by allowing Thalmor Justicars the right to enforce the treaty with violence. The presence of foreign troops on Imperial lands was bad enough. That they could kill citizens without trial or penalty was proof of the Empire's weakness. However, these were not issues that Quentin Cipius could fix. He was an officer and apparently an intelligent one, but he was still a soldier of the Empire. That meant he followed orders. Although his presence here proved he had some latitude on how to carry them out.

When she didn't reply, he continued with his questions. "What are your other grievances with the Empire?"

"The Empire tried to murder me." Now she let some heat creep into her reply. "I was lost. I was confused. I didn't even speak the language when I arrived in Skyrim." She knew that she was being a hypocrite about almost being executed. She had killed far more innocents during the burning of King's Landing for less reason. However, she just couldn't put what happened to her behind her. "One of your patrols found me. They marched me for leagues. They whipped when I wasn't fast enough for them. The Empire sentenced me to be executed – and to this day I don't know why. As far as I know it is still not a crime to be lost in the woods. The Empire is supposed to defend the weak and helpless. You were going to chop off my head!"

This finally got a reaction out of Quentin Cipius. He winced. "This would be at Helgen?"

"It was indeed. If the dragon hadn't attacked, I would be dead." She folded her arms. "You knew about this?"

"No, I did not." He sighed. "Rumor names you as the naked girl seen at Helgen when it burned. Your cognomen, the Unburnt, and that you survived dragonfire support that rumor. I would like to offer a formal apology on behalf of the Empire for your mistreatment at our hands."

"I appreciate your personal apology, Legate." He didn't deserve her anger, and she deserved worse. However, the Imperials hadn't almost executed her for the burning of King's Landing. She took a calming breath. "It is a good start, but if the Empire is truly concerned with making amends to me, then the ones responsible for the miscarriage of justice should first be punished, wouldn't you agree?"

He dipped his head in agreement. "That would normally be the case. However, it may not be possible. The troops present at Helgen were decimated. The survivors fled in all directions, but some did end up under my command. I will investigate, punish any guilty that I find under my command, and include it in my report to General Tullius."

"Very well, I look forward to hearing the results of your investigation." She didn't expect that much would come of it. The Legate could quite easily claim that everyone responsible was either dead or unaccounted for. It would be revealing if the Empire actually did take action.

"You sound skeptical. Let me assure you. I will investigate. I have given you my word, and it is my duty as an officer of the Empire. If I find any under my command who sentenced someone to be executed without even an inquest, there will be consequences. One of the responsibilities of an Imperial officer during war is to prevent atrocities, not perform them. Even during war there are lines that should not be crossed. No, that isn't strong enough. Especially during war there are lines that should not be crossed. When one side commits an atrocity, the other side retaliates in kind. War is a bloody business at the best of times, which makes it more important to hold onto honor and not give in to savagery."

Daenerys nodded in respect. His words hurt because she hadn't just crossed lines. She had ripped them apart when she burned King's Landing and justified it as necessary. She couldn't change her past or make amends to the people of King's Landing. She had to keep moving forward. She also needed to ease up. Unless she wanted to join the Stormcloaks, she shouldn't go around flinging fire at the Imperials. "Thank you, Legate Cipius, for your apology. It is the first I have ever received from the Empire. I find it hard to forget that my welcome to Tamriel was to be whipped by legionnaires. Despite this, I have not joined the Stormcloaks, and I do believe that all mankind should be united against the oppression of the Aldmeri Dominion." She paused for a moment to consider before continuing. "Would you like to hear the proposal I made to Jarl Ulfric that got me expelled from Windhelm?"

"Why, yes. I would indeed like to hear that proposal."

"I suggested to the jarl that he seek a peaceful resolution. I have noticed that the Empire is deliberately holding back in this war. You protect and patrol the holds that side with the Imperials, but you have taken no actions to escalate the conflict. Am I wrong in thinking that you would welcome a peaceful solution?"

"You're not wrong. Like you, I believe that only the Thalmor profit when the Empire fights among itself."

"I suggested to Jarl Ulfric that he sue for peace under the following terms. The Empire first acknowledges the independence of Skyrim. Skyrim, in turn, agrees to give up its autonomy and rejoin the Empire under the same conditions granted to the dark elves when Morrowind joined the Empire – their right to worship their gods as they please."

"That…" he paused. "I was going to say it broke the White-Gold Concordat, but it actually doesn't. It skirts around the treaty by acknowledging Skyrim as independent first. What you suggest would appease Skyrim. However, it leaves the Empire to face the displeasure of the Aldmeri Dominion. There is little desire at the highest levels of the Empire for another war. That being said, it is the most reasonable proposal that I have heard yet. I will pass along this suggestion to my superiors. Although it appears your compromise is already dead, as Jarl Ulfric threw you out of Windhelm over it."

"It is dead for now," agreed Daenerys. However, just by presenting her compromise to both sides, she had at least created a possibility. "Nor do I see any way to change that at this point, but I can give you this. I will not be using my fame as the Dragonborn to support the Stormcloak cause. I intend to remain neutral in the matter of the Stormcloak Rebellion. I will focus upon the problem of the dragons."

"Good." He paused a moment and stroked his beard before he continued. "I have not heard official word, but I believe I can state with confidence that the Empire supports your efforts to address the dragon problem."

"Really? What kind of support does the Empire offer?"

"What kind of support do you want?"

"Troops, ballistae, battlemages. Dragons don't go down easy." Not that she expected any real support, just words.

Quentin Cipius laughed. "No, from everything that I have read both old and new they do not, but you have already assembled a greater force than the one that killed the first dragon. While I would like to lend you some material assistance, I cannot lend you ballistae or battlemages."

"Then what about troops?"

"Not as many as you would no doubt wish, but I could delegate a few men to you on detached duty. Your mission is an important one to the Empire, and you have amassed a considerable fighting force. That many men will draw attention during these times of war. I could assign some men to escort you about Skyrim. Having such an escort would ensure that you are not attacked by Imperial forces."

"I see." This was unexpected. Legate Cipius had just trapped her, or perhaps she had trapped herself. She had not been expecting the Empire to be so willing to lend her men, even as an escort. It had been a struggle to get any men from Jarl Kraldar. However, the legate was correct that her forces had grown large enough that Imperial or Stormcloak soldiers might turn them aside at the borders. It didn't matter if she called them the Dragonguard or not, Skyrim was at war. An escort of Imperial troops would smooth the way, and she was planning to head into Imperial held territory. On the other side of the coin, they would also observe her actions and report back to the Empire. Their mere presence would also cause friction among her troops because her forces did lean to the Stormcloak side. Not to mention the little incident where they had ambushed an Imperial patrol. To buy a little time she tossed up a possible objection. "Would these men on detached duty also follow orders and aid in attacking dragons?"

"Of course, they would be under your command. That's the very definition of detached duty, within the bounds of Imperial law, naturally."

"Naturally." She didn't see a way to refuse the offered escort. The Empire would certainly believe that her words of neutrality were empty and that she was a military force loosely aligned with the Stormcloaks. To be fair, that was pretty close to the truth. "How many men?"

"I believe Jarl Kraldar gave you three men. I'll give you half a dozen."

Twice what the Stormcloaks had given her. That was a message as well. Two messages. One, he had good sources of intelligence. Two, the Empire was a more powerful ally than the Stormcloaks. It was a simple choice. Accept the men and with them the détente that Legate Cipius offered, or refuse them and the Empire would believe that she was secretly aligned with the Stormcloaks. "Six men? That's a generous offer. I accept."