Skyrim is a harsh land. Snow falls thick and suffocating, thick enough to swallow your foot and still not feel solid ground. Few from other lands ever try farming, for they lack the patience most Nords for it. And if you refused to let the snow consume you, the tree-falling winds will bend you to breaking like brittle wood.
Of course, Rena was still there. It was her duty to be there as a soldier. It didn't matter that she wasn't a Nord, for the Empire needed soldiers to tame the land.
And the land was yet untamed. A rebellion led by one of the Jarls had spread like wildfire across Skyrim. Their goal was independence from the Empire, as misguided as it was. For every soldier they fell for themselves, the more wolves would look at their land as a prize. Should they be successful, the Empire would surely die.
Rena thanked the Eight Divines that it was soon over. Someone passed information that the rebel Jarl would be passing through Darkwater Crossing on his way to Windhelm. The Legion took advantage of this and mounted an ambush to capture or kill him. Word had gotten back that he surrendered, perhaps at the sight of overwhelming odds, but those details were unknown.
That message had reached Rena only a few hours ago, at the break of the dawn. Since then, Rena took her post at the city gate in anticipation for her fellow soldiers to arrive with the captive Jarl and his men. It gave her time to think, if nothing else, of what she would do afterwards.
The Empire always needed soldiers, but once they were certain sedition was impossible, what would she do? Would she be assigned to a random outpost along the Empire's boarders? Would she be sent to some wayward station to defend the roads? Would she even stay in the Legion? Her mother would certainly like that last one.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the Imperial convoy headed down the road. Carts that bore the prisoners were surrounded by Legionnaires on horseback. There were few only two carts, one that held Nords in the rebel's blue garb, but the second was different. Only one soldier in blue was held there, with a couple random Nords filling out the ranks, a man and one she wasn't certain of. And of course, that cart held the rebel Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak.
Ulfric's presence was as sundering as his Shout. Any who knew him on sight could feel an aura as though he would shatter stone for fun. He wore black furs, mail and steel plate so he could stick out like blood on the snow. His yellow mane and beard were hindered by a cloth gag meant to silence him, whether it would work or not.
Word had spread that not long ago, he slew Torygg, the High King of Skyrim. Some say he challenged the King in duel like the Old Ways of the Nords. Others say all he did was Shout and it tore him asunder. Rena refused to believe rumors, whether they were based on truth or not. Still, the former seemed likelier than the latter. She couldn't imagine how someone could killed with their voice, even Ulfric Stormcloak.
Rena opened the gate and the citizens soon began to gawk. Children were told to stay inside and not to look. She found it made sense. Seeing a rebel in chains could act as a message to follow a path to avenge him and no parent would want that for their child. There were those that spit on the chart as it passed and those that spit on the Legionnaires' boots. This is what Ulfric did to Skyrim.
To the side, Rena saw General Tullius, the governor in the stead of a king. They shared a conversation once or twice, both regarding the rebels, which many would call Stormcloaks in reference to their leader. From them, she saw that he was a soldier, if nothing else. However, he was tasked with being engaged in Skyrim's politics, something he'd rather not do.
To compound that, he was met by Elenwen, the Thalmor ambassador to Skyrim. The Thalmor were those who ruled the Aldmeri Dominion, an Elven regime with naked ambitions to rule over in place of the Empire. Many knew they were vile, but they had also fought the Empire once before and the Empire was forced to sue for peace instead of victory.
"Governor Tullius," Elenwen ordered, "I formally demand you surrender Jarl Ulfric and his men to me, immediately."
"Ambassador, I feel that's irregular," the general replied, "The Stormcloak rebellion is an internal matter of the Empire, not the Thalmor."
Elenwen clenched her eyes like a snake. "Their cause violates the White-Gold Concordant," she explained, "I believe that's enough cause for the Thalmor to incarcerate them."
Rena grit her teeth at the mention. At the end of the war, the Thalmor drafted a treaty that favored them heavily. A condition is that worship of Talos, the Ninth Divine, be outlawed. Few would sign the treaty had they felt they had a choice. Ulfric despised this agreement and championed the cause to bring Talos worship back. When the Empire labeled him a criminal for his efforts, he began the rebellion.
Perhaps Elenwen had the right to detain them, but not jurisdiction. None of her soldiers were at the ambush, it wasn't her brethren that were dying to bring him to justice. To presume they deserved Ulfric when they didn't fight for him boiled Rena's blood.
"With all due respect," Tullius said, "they're prisoners of the Empire, not the Dominion. If you want a transfer, you should've put through the paperwork before we wheeled the headsman all the way down here."
As Tullius rode away, Rena processed what she heard. A headsman would only be brought here if he meant to execute someone soon. That with Ulfric's arrival could only mean he would be put to death with the rest of the prisoners. That would violate their rights to a trial, as outlined by Imperial law. True, his crimes were known, but there was a process to this. Perhaps it really was that bad.
Elenwen, on the other hand, didn't take it was well. Even atop the wall, Rena could see the Thalmor's fist clenched tight. However, something didn't make sense. One could see her behavior was not akin to a whiney child that isn't getting what she wants; it seemed more complicated than that. Nothing obvious, but something about this seemed less petty than disrespecting her authority.
After the Thalmor party left, Rena watch from a distance the execution. The captain led the prisoners into a line, barking orders unintelligible by the gate. In a shocking display, one of the colorless Nords ran off, protesting his innocence. He didn't get far before the archers shot him down. Such a waste of life.
Not long after, a priest seemed to begin a blessing, but one of the Stormcloaks stepped up impatiently. No one could say what would motivate a man to want death, but this was their way it seemed. The soldier leaned over the headsman's block and an axe soon removed his head from his body, killing him instantly.
As the corpse was set aside, a sound shattered through the air. A bellowing shriek, animalistic, primal. It was beyond Rena's knowledge what it was, but many shuddered at this unknown noise. It didn't stop the execution, but it certainly gave it great pause.
As the remaining colorless Nord was led, something shot through the air. No arrow or bird, but a monster. It looked as though a giant bat made of shards of black glass. It was beyond anything she had seen, but in mosaics and metalwork.
It was a Dragon.
The Dragon set down on the highest tower and shouted as hellfire rained from the heavens. In that moment, nothing mattered beyond fighting this monstrosity. Prisoners scattered as soldiers threw arrows and magic in vain. Citizen ran in terror as stone that stood of over an Era was brought shattered like glass.
If the gates of Oblivion opened at the End-Times, then this was surely it. Rena nocked an arrow in her bow, pulled the string as far as she could, aimed straight at the Dragon's eye and loosed, whether it would land its target or not. She would not let the world die quietly.
She would be as harsh and loud as Skyrim before her final breath.