Chapter 16
Loredas, the 4th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era
Fultheim's loss hurt like an old wound, just a scar on the surface, but an ache deep inside. Daenerys wasn't a naive young girl any longer if she had ever been one. Men died in battle, not just the bad or the incompetent. She had seen time again that one skilled warrior could take a dozen fools with a sword, but numbers mattered as well. Barristan Selmy, Jorah Mormont, and Skjor had all been brought down by numbers, but sometimes it was chance or fate instead of numbers. An infected wound had taken her Sun and Stars from her, and a dragon had taken Fultheim. She had survived the fire. Fultheim was gone.
When she had talked to her small council about the possibility that any of them could die, she had been preparing them to accept Sofija her second. It had been necessary to ensure the Dragonguard continued if she fell. She had mention Fultheim as essential as an example, but she hadn't really considered the possibility that he would fall before her. Now she had to somehow go on without him. She hadn't been looking for a man like Fultheim. She had simply stumbled into him at the Nightgate Inn. At first he was just another warrior for her cause. She had great warriors follow her before: Grey Worm, Barristan Selmy, Grey Worm, Daario Naharis, and Jon Snow. Yet, all of them seemed to believe that she either knew nothing or everything. They would sometimes try to tell her she was wrong, but they never taught her. Fultheim had shown her how to be a better leader, maybe even a better person. Not that she was blind to the man's flaws. He was an irritable grouchy drunk. At least he had been a drunkard. He had cut back a lot. Somehow, he had pulled himself out of his cups. Or had she done that when she had given him a purpose again? If she hadn't stopped at the Nightgate Inn, he would probably still be alive and still drinking that life away. According to the Nords, she'd done him a favor. He'd met death on his feet as a warrior instead of drinking himself to death. Maybe he was happy in Sovngarde. Maybe.
As much as her heart wanted to grieve, she couldn't. Without Fultheim all eyes were on her now. Her people needed purpose and direction, and there was much to do. All four carts had been destroyed and most of their supplies with them. Every soldier had at least a day's rations in their packs, but they were still in the mountain passes. Game was scarce and there was nothing to forage. They should be into the foothills soon, but her people had to eat. She set people to sorting through the wreckage of the carts to see if any food could be salvaged with Camilla to oversee it. She charged Elolir with overseeing butchering what was left of the oxen that had pulled the carts. They would need the meat for the next few days. She made Val responsible for gathering the dead and making arrangements for their burial. Fultheim deserved a funeral pyre. It was the Nord tradition for warriors, but they didn't have enough wood. The fallen would have to be buried in rocky graves with a cairn of stones. There were plenty of stones to be had. She tended the injured herself. While Faralda and Jenassa could heal themselves, Daenerys was the only one skilled enough at Restoration to heal others. Potions were for emergencies, not for healing after the battle was over. Healing the injured also gave her an excuse to put off talking to Gaius Paulinus, but she knew that conversation couldn't be postponed for long.
Once the healing was done, she checked with Camilla and confirmed that the fireproof chest had survived along with Azura's Star, the black soul gem that likely held Grandfather's soul, and their small supply of potions. After that, there was simply no delaying any further because Gaius was standing at attention waiting.
Gaius Paulinus stood like a wall, solid and immovable. His once brown hair was mostly silver and thinning. He was old enough to be her father, but not her grandfather. While he lacked the vitality of youth, he more than made up for it in skill, experience, and sheer grit. He was cleanly shaven in the Imperial fashion. Everything about Gaius Paulinus was Imperial: his name, his armor, his looks, his speech, and his actions. He didn't suffer fools, and she had heard him reduce a man to a quivering wreck with nothing but his words. Despite his constant foul-mouthed cursing, he rarely had cause to berate his men. His men looked up to him, and she admired him for that. However, she had never warmed to him. Gaius Paulinus was loyal, but his loyalty was to the Empire. She had a hard time trusting a man whose allegiance lay elsewhere.
"Lady Targaryen." He saluted in the Imperial manner, right hand out, straight and level with the ground below. He held the pose waiting for her reply.
"At ease, Paulinus." The use of just his nomen was slightly less formal than using his full name, and she wasn't close enough to him to use his praenomem. "Walk with me. We need to talk." She started off down the road, heading downhill.
He followed her easily keeping pace. "We do need to talk, but I have something to report first."
She glanced at him, but his face revealed nothing. "Very well, report."
"In the confusion of the battle, two of the Dragonguard fled, Timo and Reeta. They took a horse with them."
Daenerys nodded her understanding. Timo and Reeta were the older married couple that she had forcibly conscripted into the Dragonguard at Helgen. Reeta was likely the cause. She had begged not to join, and she hadn't been fitting in as a soldier. Daenerys had tried to give them a chance, but this couldn't be forgiven. "They won't get far riding double. When Aela and Ull get back, mount Elolir and Jenassa on our two remaining horses. Have them track down the deserters."
He nodded. "You want them dead or alive?"
"I prefer them dead, but they need to be brought back to camp dead or alive. I'd rather not make a spectacle of their execution, but people need to see the cost of desertion, especially for those sworn for life." She had enough of death today, but it wasn't enough for the two deserters to die. The Dragonguard had to see they were punished. It would hurt morale too much to let them go unpunished.
"I'll see to it," agreed Gaius.
"What of Harald and Marja?" The brother and sister pair were not related to Timo and Reeta. They were younger, either late teens or early twenties. Daenerys had the impression that they were settling in to being soldiers better.
"They're the ones who reported the desertion. I would have found out eventually, but they came forward. I'll keep an eye on them, but I don't think they'll cause trouble."
Daenerys nodded. That Harald and Marja had reported the desertion was a good sign. Perhaps her offer of mercy would yet bear fruit. They walked on in silence for a little bit. Some carrion birds circled overhead and Daenerys wondered how they knew so quickly that the battle was done. However, she was stalling. Clearly, Gaius had nothing more to report. "You know what we need to talk about as well as I do. You were Fultheim's second. I need someone to oversee the entire Dragonguard. Are you willing to step up to that position?"
"Yes. It falls within the scope of my orders for detached duty. I'm to follow you as if you were my commanding officer – unless you attack the Empire or declare for the Stormcloaks."
Daenerys took a moment to consider that reply. Gaius had never shared his exact orders before. That he shared this much now was interesting. Was he trying to prove that she could trust him? "I have no plans to do either. I intend to remain independent and remain focused on killing dragons."
"Then I'll take military command of the Dragonguard under you. That's my duty."
Duty. Orders. What was it he wasn't saying? "And how do you feel about it?"
"My feelings don't matter. Duty matters. The Empire, in the person of Legate Cipius, has decided to support the Dragonguard. I try to stay out of politics, but I understand the reasons I've been assigned here. The Dragonborn is a Nord legend, not an Imperial one. However, I know what you mean to the people of Skyrim. If you chose a side in the Stormcloak Rebellion, many Nords would follow you. Having you remain neutral, or even better lean toward the Empire, aids the Empire."
"Are you a parrot? I understand the reasons of Legate Cipius. What about your own reasons?"
"I have my orders. It's for the good of the Empire, and the dragons need to be killed."
"Very well. It's good to have a man so loyal in my service." She doubted that she would ever crack his shell with mere questioning, and she simply didn't have anyone else better suited for the position. "Now, tell me your impression of the fight with the dragon."
"You need battlemages. Perhaps large numbers of ballistae would work as you suggested." He shrugged. "Ballistae are mostly used by the navy, and I've always led infantry, but two ballistae were certainly not enough. Your current plan where you're the bait, it works, mostly because you're immune to fire. However, you're not immune to tooth or claw. You're brave, but there is too much luck involved."
Daenerys nodded. "I know." Someday her luck would run out, and she desperately needed battlemages, but they didn't grow on trees. Also, even battlemages hadn't hurt the dragon that attacked Helgen. "Do you have a better plan to offer?"
"Nothing beyond the obvious. The Empire would no doubt be willing to pledge you several battlemages if you merely agreed to swear an oath to serve the Empire."
"Perhaps." She knew Legate Cipius lacked the authority to lend her battlemages. "General Tullius has heard reports of me by now. If they make me an offer, I will consider it. Any other suggestions for working better with the men I have?"
"I'm sorry, but no. You used the men you had well. You took losses, but that happens in battle. Recruit more men, and I'll train them for you. I would prefer you not to recruit any more by swearing in criminals. The Empire has tried penal legions before. They didn't work."
She noted how Gaius didn't flat up and tell her not to do it. He advised her against it and cited an example. Just like Fultheim he was circumspect at telling her she was wrong. She could work with him. "Very well, let's return. We have a long march yet to Ivarstead and few supplies. There is much to be done."
Elolir and Jenassa missed the funerals because they were tracking down the deserters. When they returned with the corpses of Timo and Reeta, her scouts asked what should be done with them.
"Leave them at the side of the road. They don't deserve a proper burial." She made her words cold. They were traitors, deserters, horse thieves and had broken oath. They deserved death four times over. Yet, she still felt their blood on her hands. She had tried and failed to save them, but they'd run and left her with no choice. She looked up at the blood-red comet in the southern sky and wondered why.
.oOo.
Three days after killing the dragon Aela and Ull reported finding Imperial sentries hiding in the forest alongside the road ahead. On their own initiative, Aela and Ull had sneaked past them and located the Imperial camp. While Daenerys knew that Aela and Ull were exceptional at hiding and tracking in the wilderness, it probably helped that the Imperial sentries were stationed on platforms in the trees, and they were much more focused on watching the sky than the ground. The Imperial camp they spied upon completely neglected all Imperial doctrine on camp building. Instead of a camp laid out four-square with tents in proper formation surrounded by a trench and a wall of stakes, the camp sprawled out under the cover of trees. Add in that the sentries were watching the sky, and it told a story of a commander who was more concerned about being attacked by a dragon than the Stormcloaks. It also indicated a commander who could think for himself instead of just follow doctrine. Daenerys sent out Gaius Paulinus and Jon Battle-born to ride out and make contact with the Imperials. She loaned the Dragonguard banner to Jon to carry to make it clear that they were not Stormcloaks. A few hours later they returned with an Imperial escort, and Daenerys received an invitation to dine with their commander, Legate Fasendil.
She found it ironic that she had hosted a Stormcloak commander just a week ago and was now being invited to dine with the Imperials. She politely accepted. At the minimum she wanted to secure the right to enter the Rift without being attacked. She also hoped to persuade the Imperial commander to let her buy some of their supplies. While none of her people were starving, they were short on many basic supplies. Dinner with the commander would give her an opportunity to discuss that without approaching him as a beggar.
Sofija questioned her as they left the Dragonguard camp behind and walked the short distance down the road to the Imperial camp. "My liege, how do you know we're not walking into a trap?"
Daenerys nodded her head approvingly. "Good question, Sofija. While invited guests are under the protection of their host, we're counting on the honor of the legate. Dishonorable men have betrayed their guests before. I considered the possibility. However, you should consider who is in our party." She gestured to Aela, Faralda, and Barbas. "With the exception of Camilla, we're all very dangerous people. I think we could turn the tables on most traps and the Dragonguard isn't camped that far away. Do you think they wouldn't come running if they heard me Shout?"
"By the time the Dragonguard arrived, it could all be over."
Daenerys laughed. Two werewolves, a mistress of destruction, an unkillable dog, and Sofija who was shaping herself into a formidable spellblade. "Perhaps, but I like our chances."
Aela laughed. "I'd think they'd find they we're no easy meat. Are we, shield-sister?"
"No, we are not," agreed Daenerys. "Not to mention that you are a Companion. At least a third of the Empire's forces are Nords. Word would spread that the Imperials cowardly attacked a Companion of Jorrvaskr and the Dragonborn. The last thing the Empire wants is us as martyrs for the cause of Skyrim's independence."
Sofija frowned and nodded. "So, I'm being paranoid?"
"You're my housecarl. It's your job to be paranoid on my behalf. It's good to be wary of traps. Plan for them, but you can't let opportunities pass you by because there is a small chance there is a trap." Daenerys noticed that Camilla was looking around nervously now, and Daenerys decided to draw her into the conversation. "There is a big warning sign to watch out for. Camilla, what happens when someone offers you a deal too good to be true?"
Camilla laughed a bit nervously. "Every trader knows that one. If a deal is too good to be true, then it probably isn't."
"Exactly." She gave Camilla an encouraging pat on the back. "That's why you're along. You may not be deadly in a fight, but you're deadly at a negotiating table. We need those supplies, so keep your focus on that. I'll try to work the conversation around to it."
If more mortals thought like her, my master would have a lot less fun., added Barbas.
.oOo.
As Daenerys expected upon hearing his name, Legate Fasendil was an Altmer. In appearance he was the ideal Altmer. His skin, hair and eyes were all of a matching pale gold. His nose, chin, and ears were pointed as if someone took human features and sharpened them on a grindstone. He didn't have the bulky muscles of a Nord, but he was far from a soft merchant. He carried himself with the focused precision common to the legion and wore Imperial armor as if he was born to it. His manners were impeccable.
Despite being camped in the forest, he set a table that was better than any she'd had since the farewell feast Jarl Balgruuf gave her. The centerpiece was a full roast goose cooked to perfection, the skin was browned, but the breast remained lightly pink with the right amount of seasoning. Bread, fruit, and fresh vegetables complimented the meal with wine and tea to drink. The table was set with the same fussiness that Faralda had about serving tea, a place for everything and everything in its place.
Naturally, Faralda had no trouble adapting to the formal dinner even if she had retreated into silence. Daenerys put on her best manners and attempted to match the two mer. The level of formality that Altmer adored did not come naturally to her. Her childhood training in etiquette had been inconsistent. One week she would be in the home of a rich merchant or a prince and the next month she spent begging for scraps on the streets. Although Nords could be crass, she was far more inclined to the raw enjoyment with which they attacked their meals than the Altmer obsession with dining properly. Sofija and Camilla strove to emulate her, but Aela simply dug into her food. Barbas hadn't even been allowed in the tent.
Unsurprisingly, Legate Fasendil noticed her companion's discomfort. "Please, enjoy your meal. Your efforts at manners are noted and appreciated, but I'm an Imperial officer first. Trust me, I've seen worse. Gods know that Kund has no manners." He waved down the table to where his stout Nord quartermaster sat opposite Faralda.
Kund lifted a goblet and almost spilled some wine. "I've got manners. I didn't track mud into the tent, did I?"
"Not this time," replied Fasendil.
Daenerys found the undercurrent of familiarity to their exchange interesting. Nords and mer didn't mix very well in her experience. Most Nords didn't distinguish between their grievances with the Aldmeri Dominion and mer in general. She had heard that Imperials, especially the Legion was different, but there was a difference between hearing about it and seeing it in action.
"So," asked Fasendil. "How exactly did you managed to defeat a dragon? Your forces are half the size of mine and we were mauled the one time the dragon attacked our camp."
Daenerys sipped her wine while she considered how much to say. She wasn't in favor of spreading her tactics around. Not that she expected dragons to hear rumors, but someone else might try to copy her tactics and fail. A dragon that survived an ambush would be more cautious in the future. However, she couldn't keep her men locked up. She had to give them leave sometimes and they would brag. Besides, some of Jarl Balgruuf's men had already seen her fight one dragon.
"How we overcame a dragon is different from how I would recommend that you fight a dragon. The Empire has more resources. For a camp this size, I'd recommend a minimum of six ballistae mounted on your perimeter. Cover the ballistae with pavilions so they have cover above but are open upon all sides. That way they look like tents to a dragon flying overhead. With six hidden ballistae, you would have a decent chance of getting a solid hit on a dragon. We had two." Because that was all Jarl Balgruuf would permit her to build, but there was no use dreaming of what-ifs. "They both went up in flames and their crews with them. If you have any battlemages, they should use the same tactics. Hide until the dragon swoops low and then strike."
"Unfortunately, we don't have a battlemage. We had a member of the Synod. She conjured a daedra when the dragon attacked. Which was worse than useless. When she died the daedra attacked us."
"The other thing you need to know about fighting dragons is that they fly high overhead. At that height you lose detail. What dragons mostly notice large things like tents and wagons. They also notice movement. That's why the dragons hit caravans and giant encampments first. A caravan is very obvious from the air. So is a herd of mammoth. What you've done here, hiding in the trees. That's smart."
"What about at night?" asked one of the Imperial underofficers. "You can't really hide a fire at night."
Daenerys shrugged. "Dragons see better in daylight. At night they can see fires, but that just means that there are people below. Dragons aren't threatened by people. We're more like porcupines to them. More trouble to hunt than we're worth, and not much good meat on our bones. They much prefer horses, cattle, and sheep. More meat for less trouble."
"If that's so, why did the dragon attack us?" asked Fasendil.
"Hmm, good question. The dragons have been avoiding walled cities." Probably because they consider them more trouble than they are worth. "They have attacked some villages…" But a camp laid out in military precision didn't fit. There would be easier targets. Unless… "Were you drilling in formations or marching?"
"We were drilling that morning just before the attack," agreed Fasendil.
"That would be the why. All those people moving in formation would be very visible to a dragon from above. A few people aren't worth the trouble, but enough of them to be seen from the air and all clumped together? You looked as tasty as a herd of sheep."
"Gods," said Kund. "They really don't think any more of us than we do of that goose we ate? Do they?" He emphasized his speech by waving his goblet at the remains of the goose on their table.
"No," agreed Daenerys. "No, they don't."
The conversation flagged after that, so Daenerys changed the subject by asking about news from Riften and the Empire. Everyone at the table eagerly embraced the topic. After the meal was done Legate Fasendil asked her to stay and discuss matters with him. From his serious manner, this was clearly about business and not an attempt to get into her skirt, so she readily agreed. Of course, he still offered her a goblet of wine, which she accepted.
"Did you know that Gaius Paulinus gave me a sealed letter from Legate Quentin Cipius?"
Daenerys shrugged. "I did not, but that does not surprise me. Legate Cipius struck me as very astute."
Fasendil nodded. "Not just astute but politically savvy. He's of noble birth, minor house, third son, but that was still enough to get him a commission. He's been earning his own way in the Legion. I served with him once. Outranked him then, but his star is on the rise. At least it was. I'm not entirely certain that General Tullius will approve of his actions."
Daenerys frowned. "Oh, and why not?" She had thought it was a very clever political move. For the cost of only six men he'd created the impression that the Dragonguard was at least neutral in the Stormcloak Rebellion and maybe even leaning toward the Imperial side.
"Let me answer your question with a question. Is it true that you're wearing an amulet of Talos right now?"
Daenerys shrugged. It was hardly a secret. "Beneath my clothes, but yes, I am."
Fasendil shook his head. "It's rather simple. While Cipius may have helped the Imperial perception in Skyrim by aiding you, the Thalmor are going to hate it. That won't fall on you but on the Empire. General Tullius may answer to the Empire, but he always has Thalmor 'advisors' closeby. Not to mention that sooner or later you are going to run across some Thalmor Justicars, who will no doubt expect your Imperial forces to aid them in killing or capturing you." Despite Fasendil's impeccable manners, there was a faint sneer in his tone every time he mentioned the Thalmor.
Would Gaius Paulinus turn on her because the Thalmor asked? She would like to say no, but Gaius was loyal to the Empire first and her second. Which orders would he follow? "I hadn't considered that scenario. I appreciate the warning." While she had the feeling that Fasendil was sympathetic to the cause of the Dawnguard, she had to wonder if this meant she could expect no help from him.
Fasendil took a slow sip of his wine and studied her. "The Thalmor don't scare you any more than dragons, do they?"
Daenerys laughed. "The Thalmor scare me a good bit less than dragons."
"Really, I wonder who is the greater threat. I'm familiar with the Nord legend. Hard not to be. Most of my soldiers are Nords, and they won't stop talking about you. However, this isn't the first time in the history of Tamriel that there has been a stirring of dragons. I believe it more likely that the Thalmor are behind it than Alduin."
"You really don't like them, do you?"
"No, I don't. I've seen behind their smiling visage and what I saw was evil. I know you are new to these lands. Have you heard of the Night of Green Fire?"
Daenerys shook her head. "No, I haven't."
"Back in '42 I was stationed in Hammerfell. I was on leave in Sentinel, trying to track down some refugee relatives who had fled persecution in Alinor. To the Thalmor they weren't refugees, they were dissidents. There was no warning, just an explosion of magic in the refugee quarter. Thalmor mages attacked the Altmer refugees, who resisted with magic of their own. I ran to the scene with other Legionaries who were stationed there, but the entire quarter was a smoking ruin by the time we arrived. Everyone was dead. Wholesale slaughter. Men, women, and children. The Dominion, not content with killing dissidents at home, came to Hammerfell to finish the job. We're supposedly at peace now. Still, I don't trust them. I put in to be stationed here to keep an eye on the Thalmor. I have a feeling they're feeding this unrest in Skyrim."
"I would say that most of the blame goes to Ulfric Stormcloak, but I believe you. When the Empire and Skyrim fight, it is the Thalmor who benefit. I'm certain they're meddling in Skyrim. The Thalmor have an observer at the College of Winterhold, Ancano. When I left Winterhold an Alfiq spy started traveling with me. Our best guess was that he was assigned to Ancano to help spy at the College until Ancano reassigned him to follow me. Fultheim spotted him. According to Fultheim the Thalmor have been using Alfiq as spies at least as far back as the Great War." Daenerys took a deep sip of her wine. Now was not the time to mourn Fultheim's loss.
"Alfiq spies? And you didn't bother to tell anyone?" A Nord would be yelling. Fasendil had more control, but his words were had more tension than the bowstring of a ballistae. "Cats go everywhere. No one ever pays attention to a stray cat. This is a security nightmare."
Daenerys blinked. "I thought the Empire knew. Fultheim was a former Blade. He's the one who informed me."
"No, I didn't know. If I did, I would have taken security precautions. Where is this Fultheim? I'd like to talk to him."
Daenerys breathed in slowly. She would not snap at the legate. He didn't know. "He died three days ago. Protecting me during the battle with the dragon Lok-Nos-Dov." She managed to keep her tone matter of fact, but his loss still hurt.
"I'm sorry, Lady Targaryen. He obviously meant a great deal to you."
Daenerys nodded. "He was a good man, a great warrior, and he had a way of bringing out the best in people." She raised her glass. "Never again shall the world see his like."
"To Fultheim," toasted Fasendil. "While this news of Alfiq spies is distressing, it is still valuable."
Daenerys nodded her agreement. For a time she sipped her wine and remembered Fultheim, but dwelling on memories didn't help the present. "Dogs," she finally said.
"Dogs? Ah, to counter the Alfiq. Yes, that's probably a good idea. I suppose that's the reason you keep that dog of yours close?"
"One of them, yes." She heard a small woof from outside, but no snide remarks from Barbas.
"I'll have to acquire some. While this was a valuable detour, we seem to have drifted from our subject. Now, my orders are to secure the pass against any possible incursion by the Stormcloaks. You've made my job easier. With the dragon gone I can move our encampment to the pass itself. Since you have helped me, what aid can I lend the Dragonguard?"
Daenerys smiled. "I'm so glad you asked."