Skathi was not privy to why she needed to go to Karthspire. Perhaps if she was in the room while they discussed things and not munching on apple pie, she would know, but that was her botched attempt at a day off. Nothing could change the day's events, but maybe she could have avoided it if she left the day before. But that was in the past, unchanged by the intentions of one regretful mortal.
On approach to Karthspire, there was a wooden structure connecting the ruins together and a campsite built on top of it all. It was clear someone called it home, but no one was there to say so. Skathi had no clue where they went and road up to Delphine and Esbern at the settlement's edge.
"Greetings, Dragonborn," Esbern greeted, "The Forsworn are off at war and won't be here until we've already imbedded ourselves."
"Good," the Dragonborn replied, "Now, why are we here?"
"We're here for Alduin's Wall," the old Blade explained, "It was created by the ancient Akaviri Dragonguard, the forerunners of the Blades. One of the lost secrets of the Blades. It's where they recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. Part history, part prophecy. Its location was lost for centuries, but I know where it is." He pointed toward the ruins, "Through there."
"Then let's not waste any more time," Skathi nodded and dismounted.
The three warriors drew their blades and entered the structure. It was quiet with everyone off at war. That was no consolidation for Skathi. It felt strange entering someone's home when they were not here. Maybe it was just her, as the Blades showed no concern. It felt like the usual occupants would jump out at any moment and try to chase them off.
And then one did. Out from one of the tents, a creature emerged of great disgust. It was ugly, a nose beyond any length that could be considered normal, hair thin and balding, wrinkled skin hung on bare and clawed hands with Magicka at their disposal. It was a Hagraven, a familiar sight to Skathi, who had accidentally fallen into their lairs more than once.
"Intruders!" it screeched, "Get out of my home!"
It threw a fireball at the warriors and they scattered. Skathi sheathed her blade and drew her bow in its stead. In her experience, mages took time between spells and that could be exploited. She ran out from her cover and loosed an arrow at its chest. It did not fall from that, as experience taught her that they could take a hit and still throw spells, though it did hurt.
When she tried to nock another arrow, the Hagraven threw a spike of ice at her arm. Fire could not burn her, but sharp ice still pierced her skin. She recoiled, checking the wound as Delphine charged the creature. The Blade was hit with a fireball, but still her armor did not give. She brought her sword down on its head and burst it in half. Its body fell, dead.
Skathi sat, nursing her wound. The icicle had gone through her arm and an inch was poking out the back. A rough situation, while not as bad as it could be, still worse than usual injuries this spell would do on an arm. Unfortunately, it was not the worst thing she had dealt with today.
Esbern came to the Dragonborn's aid and applied a healing spell to her arm. He put a piece of leather in her mouth and told her to bite down. She did so, knowing this method all too well. He pulled the icicle out from her skin and she focused her pain into biting the leather. With the ice out, the spell could do its work.
Once Skathi had recovered, they began to search for Sky Haven Temple.
After a long and treacherous journey through traps and puzzles, the warriors came upon a dead end. It was a courtyard, open to the elements, but no further into the temple. Where a door would be, there was a sculpted head like door and a several circled wheel in few feet in front of it. Where else was there to go?
"Wonderful! Remarkably well preserved, too," Esbern exclaimed at the sight of the wheel. What was he up to?
Stood over the wheel, he explained, "Here's the 'blood seal.' Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by, well, blood. Your blood, Dragonborn."
He continued, looking at the head, "Look here! You see how the ancient Blades revered Reman Cyrodiil. This whole place appears to be a shrine to Reman. He ended the Akaviri invasion under mysterious circumstances, you recall. After the so-called 'battle' of Pale Pass, the Akaviri went into his service. This was the foundation stone of the Second Empire."
Skathi was little hesitant to use the blood seal. She might be the only one who could use it, but she had gotten sick of blood today and nothing could comfort her for piercing her flesh. Reluctantly, she still drew her dagger and let blood fall onto the wheel. She whined at the fresh wound, quietly as she had little energy left.
A light emerged from the blood seal. It grew and covered the entire wheel. As Skathi shielded her eyes, the sculpted head retreated into the wall to reveal a stairway upwards. She swore, if there was something terrible at the end of this, she was just going to leave.
At the top of the stairs, there was a chamber, ornate and ancient. Dust and moss laid on the finely carved stone from the times of old. It was mostly empty, save for a table at the center of the room. At the focus of the room, there was a wall of strange designs, a mural of events untold. The Blades approached it and were in awe.
"Shor's bones! Here it is! Alduin's Wall," Esbern exclaimed, "so well preserved... I've never seen a finer example of early second era Akaviri sculptural relief."
"Esbern. We need information, not a lecture on art history," Delphine interjected.
"Yes, yes," the old Blade replied, looking to the Wall, "Let's see what we have. Look, here is Alduin!" He pointed at a dragon at the far left. "This panel goes back to the beginning of time, when Alduin and the Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim."
He moved to another part of the Wall. "Here, the humans' rebel against their dragon overlords, the legendary Dragon War."
He moved to the exactly middle of the wall. "Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of the Wall. You see, here he is falling from the Sky. The Nord Tongues, masters of the Voice, are arrayed against him."
"So, does it show how they defeated him?" Delphine asked, "Isn't that why we're here?"
"Patience, my dear," the old Blade replied, "The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism." He looked again at the wall. "Yes, yes. This here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes, this is the Akaviri symbol for 'Shout.' But there's no way to know what Shout is meant."
"You mean they used a shout to defeat Alduin? You're sure?" Delphine begged, intrigued and desperate.
Esbern was lost in thought. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Presumably something rather specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself," he speculated he "Remember, this is where they recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return."
"So, we're looking for a Shout, then," Delphine repeated, her teeth grit, "Damn it."
The old Blade moved to the right-hand section of the Wall. "Look, here. In the third panel," he exclaimed, "The prophecy which brought the Akaviri to Tamriel in the first place, in search of the Dragonborn. Here are the Akaviri - the Blades - you see their distinctive longswords. Now they kneel, their ancient mission fulfilled, as the Last Dragonborn contends with Alduin at the end of time. Are you paying attention, Delphine? You might learn something of our own history. I know the prophecy by heart. Once all Blades knew it."
"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world
"When the Brass Tower walks, and Time is reshaped
"When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles
"When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls
"When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding'
"The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."
So, this was Skathi's prophecy. She was tasked by an ancient civilization no one had contacted for centuries to do battle for sake of the world. Perhaps it was better that they have this, as it means there were less headless chickens when the ending of the world was upon them. It meant the there was a chance, hollow or not. If it was an empty promise, then her life had little meaning. But then Kynareth had tasked her for this. It would be done.
"Well, I'm going to look around some more. See what the Blades left for us," Delphine remarked.
"Yes, yes, that's an excellent idea," Esbern acknowledged, "Who knows what lost treasures we might discover?"
"I'm looking for a bed," Skathi groaned.
After the rout, Jeanne had rallied the warband to hide out on the edge of the Reach, unable to move much further. Scouts had managed to find and bring the survivors of the southern attack to the camp. They counted the heads still on their bodies and they came out to maybe six hundred, most overcome with pain too harsh for them to stand.
Jeanne was far too focused on what they lost, sat on her cot. Harling, Mikaela, Heimrand, Mirafang. They fell. The first time she saw a dead body, she was shaken to her core. The fact these who she could say she knew for longer, even briefly, made their deaths so much harder to deal with. She wasn't sure what she could do to deal with it.
As a commander, she couldn't help but think she did the wrong thing. By the time they were surrounded, they still had a thousand soldiers to take the keep, but they lost so many soldiers in retreat. Out of line as well, as Ulfric was her superior officer and she gave the order regardless of his wishes. She hadn't seen him but was told he survived the battle. What he thought, she didn't know, but was afraid of the answer.
She thoughts were slightly interrupted by Eoni's presence. "You need a shoulder to cry on," the half-elf remarked.
Jeanne stared at her. "And you would be good at that?" the adopted Nord questioned.
"No, I'm terrible, but you need this," Eoni admitted and sat next to her.
Jeanne sighed. The half-elf always seemed blasé about the troubles of others, so this was just weird. Perhaps she was trying to turn a new leaf. To be honest, it didn't sound like it, but maybe she would let her try. If you don't try, you'll never get anything done, even if it seems out of place.
"So, what's your problem?" Eoni asked. Yup, just like that.
Before she could answer, Ulfric appeared in the tent. He had apparently been an easy wound to treat, but you could hear his complaints to the healers from across camp. Jeanne couldn't help but think his anger came from her incompetence. It wasn't the first time she angered someone with her failures. Eoni slinked off, knowing when she wasn't going to be of much use to this conversation.
"I understand we lost more than half our warband," he remarked, "How do you explain this?"
Jeanne's leg started bouncing. "Our forces along the southern road were outmatched, even with the Forsworn's betrayal," she explained, "They lost many soldiers while the Legion wasn't nearly as injured. We would've gotten double the survivors if we had found them sooner."
"Galmar said as much," he stated, "His men numbered below a hundred by the time he found his way to camp. He knew the risks. Did you?"
She nodded. "Our progress had fallen short before we reached the steps to the keep," she reported, "That and a returning Legion company turned the battle in the Empire's favor. We were never going to keep the city for long."
Ulfric hmphed. "I think I'm going to start an investigation into where the secret army that attacked us come from," he remarked, "They couldn't have easily hidden that one."
"Right after the missing two thousand from Falkreath," Jeanne muttered.
"I have fought in war before now, but I've never had such strange experiences as now," the Jarl remarked, "I think this is how old men get their war stories."
The adopted Nord chuckled, "I'm not ready to become an old man just yet."
Ulfric smirked. This joviality was appreciated, but not comforting. She still did what she did; this was just delaying the inevitable.
"Sir, I disobeyed you by ordering the retreat and we were led into a rout," Jeanne stated tensely, "Whatever you have planned, just do it now."
He sighed. Jeanne couldn't tell if that meant he didn't want to do this or not. "You are going to rotated back to Windhelm to await further deployment indefinitely," he explained, "I'll decided how I feel about your actions by then."
She nodded. That was fair. With how many soldiers they lost in this war, they couldn't just drop her without having outright betrayed the cause. If he and the other commanders felt she was needed, she would be called upon again, but she would await that day. Hopefully, not long.
Before Ulfric could leave, Jeanne asked, "Would you have traded me for a better soldier?"
He stopped. "Not you," he stated, "I have far more soldiers I would trade for better men."
"Even if it were Dagrun Blood-Maiden?"
Ulfric's expression turned to a confused shock. "Galmar told you about that, didn't he?" he asked. Jeanne nodded. He sighed. "If it's any consolation, I wouldn't ask her to be in my army. I tried months back when I found a place she frequented. The minute she came in with a babe not two years old, I knew I couldn't win her over."
Jeanne nodded. When a child is born to any couple, their lives tend to slow down to raise it. To her understanding, her parents were bold in their times, but marriage and children tamed their ways. They didn't stop, but instead got cleverer. Warriors led a far more dangerous life and one wrong move meant their children live without parents. She could understand Dagrun wanting to stay to raise them, but there was something else.
"Who do you think was the father?" Jeanne asked.
"Not a clue," Ulfric admitted, "There wasn't a sign of who it could be. Hopefully, someone with far more important things in his life than adventurers' work."
"So, basically anything," Jeanne remarked.
Ulfric gave a knowing smile. "To be honest," he said wistfully, "if I thought I had a choice, I would be an adventurer. You get to find the wonderers of the world, fight the villains of every shadow, live a life without a path except the next adventure. Aye, that would the life for me."
He left the tent after that. Jeanne wasn't sure if an adventurer's life was as romantic as he thought it was, but at least he had his dreams. Everyone needs a dream if they could live without it for now. Hopefully, Jeanne could live without hers.
By the next morning's light, Rena was set to head out to Solitude. With the losses they took the day before, the Legion garrison needed reinforcements. They had lost many, including Vorsaz, though the most they'll say for certain is that she was missing because of a lack of a body. Maybe with the northern campaign's success, Tullius would have some space to give.
As Rena left Markarth, many of the townsfolk gave her cheers and blessings. As someone that was known as the captain of the Legionnaires that came back to fight, and an executioner to someone rumored to have sold out the city to invaders, she was quite popular. Ansgar though didn't speak a word to her when he found out what happened. She didn't know why, but it was a bit of an improvement by her estimations.
They had issues with messengers traveling alone, so Rena had an escort to protect her. On horseback, they made good time to the Whiterun border. Each of them knew the dangers of using the crossroads, but knew it was the only way to travel anywhere in and out of the Reach, so there was no choice but to ride. They crossed the border with shields raised.
If you had to ask what they expected, they would have to say another ambush or a patrol. Not, as they learned, a division of the Stormcloak warband. It may have been far away on another road, but their silhouette was clear from where they were standing. They could only be heading to Morthal from where how close they were. Rena knew what she had to do and abandoned her mission for another.
With the size of her entourage, she knew combat with the warband was unwise, so chose to warn the people of Hjaalmarch instead. She rode off the beaten path, through rivers and rocks to gain ground on the warband. Thank the Divines Skyrim horses were so strange that they couldn't be stopped by any terrain.
It was no time to rest on the warfront. The goal was to take Windhelm before Ulfric and the Stormcloak warband could return and that meant moving from one battle to the next. Ravani joined a battalion to take Winterhold, it being an easy battle with the odds being four against one. The hold guard was minimal, so while the rest of the contingent rested, this battalion would take the last hold in their path.
The travel wasn't easy. Winterhold had earned its name for being a cold and suffocating snowstorm of a hold. Ravani could barely see in front of her, which made the odd bear or wolf inconveniently frightening. No one could be certain they had all the soldiers they set out with and they hadn't been flung to the winds. Whoever lived here must be truly bizarre to like it here.
Eventually, the city was in sight. Well, if you could call it a city. Everyone knew the city proper had fallen into the sea a century ago and the only remnants were looked more like a village before coming to the mages' college, the only thing still made of stone. No one knew why it happened but blamed the mages. That was fair, given Ravani didn't think they were part of the Mages' Guild.
When the battalion reached the city, the battle began. One guard spotted them, and it set the entire hundred men of the white-clad hold guard off. They quickly turned into a shield wall in defense of Winterhold. These ones were smart, smarter than the Stormcloak warband. From their shield wall, they loosed a volley upon the Legionnaires. They managed to catch most of them but were a few they struck true. If Ulfric had ten thousand of them, he might stand a chance.
Ravani joined the archers in a volley upon the shield wall and they caught every arrow. Their wooden shields were packed tightly together, and no arrow could make it through. That's when they summoned the battlemages, who threw lightning and fireballs upon them. It broke the shield wall, but that didn't stop the company. They charged battalion as one force.
The Legionnaires prepared to receive them, but a dozen had taken up the greatsword and broke their lines. They were prime targets for archers, but at least two shield bearers protect them at any given time. Ravani couldn't help but think they were making up for their size with asymmetrical tactics. Clever, but it wouldn't stop the Legion.
"Archers!" her captain ordered, "Stand in a line!"
The eighty or so archers stood in formation behind the Legion shields. These tactics were discussed beforehand in her brief training by the contingent.
"Volley!" her captain ordered again.
When the archers nocked and drew their arrows, the shield bearers ducked to allow their comrades to loose their arrows into the company. There were many who could weather the arrows, but not enough, and a handful of soldiers were taken in the first volley. These tactics were for smaller groups of Legionnaires, like companies or the like, but were just as useful in greater numbers.
What was funny was that Nords were typically a few inches taller than Imperials, and the battalion was made up of mostly Imperials. So, Ravani aimed over her comrades' heads and caught a hold guard in his eye. Her fellow archers took after this example and started shooting over the heads of their shield bearers and took out several men like this.
But then, like a troll through a storefront, a guard burst through the Legion shields and started cutting through soldiers like logs. He caught every arrow that went is path and no one could get a hit on him. Ravani took her blade and tried to cut him but didn't manage to get past his shield without getting bashed and stabbed. She fell to the ground, dead.
The fields turned from drying grass to thick snow as they came closer to Morthal. They more closely followed the road as they came closer until they found the entire hold guard standing at attention in the streets. Rena was surprised they were ready without warning. At the longhouse, Jarl Idgrod surveyed her soldiers with pride. Rena approached.
"Jarl Idgrod," she spoke, "I rode here to warn you of the Stormcloak warband."
"That was unnecessary, child," Jarl Idgrod stated, "I knew their failures would motive more desperate strategies."
Rena thought that strange. "I wasn't aware you knew of the recent battles," she remarked.
"It is difficult to not be aware of them," the jarl explained, "The thousands dead echo from wherever they fall. You need not worry for long, as the Stormcloaks are losing ground. Soon, they won't be able to make war."
"I hope that's true," Rena replied, "Is there anything you need me to do?"
Idgrod thought for a moment. "Fort Snowhawk needs to be aware of the attack," she stated, "If you could warn them on the way to Solitude, that would be much appreciated."
Rena nodded and rode out of the city. Such a strange creature, Idgrod was. She knew far more than what she should. Knowing about the attack on Dawnstar was understandable, if a traveling merchant or two told news from the east, but Markarth was far away and information wouldn't be easy to get. That's not even mentioning her mission. How did she know these things? Spies?
The theories of how Idgrod was so well informed took a backseat to riding to Fort Snowhawk. It was a short journey, but any good rider put most of their focus on the ride. A distraction could throw them from their saddle and kill them. As such, she road carefully, but fast.
When they came upon Fort Snowhawk, Rena found their bows trained on her party. An understandable reaction, given they wouldn't recognize her, but it still hurt. She halted her horse and raised her hands, the party followed suit. Out from the fort, an officer walked over to them with a group of four, swords drawn.
"State your business," the officer barked.
"By Jarl Idgrod's request," Rena explained, "I'm informing you that the Stormcloak warband is entering the hold."
The officer looked her up and down. "And you aren't it?" he inquired.
Yeah, their appearance could be taken as Stormcloaks. The rest of the party rode in studded armor for protection and speed. Rena wore heavy armor, but not an officer's helmet, as she believed it to be a dead giveaway for opportunistic archers. Given the state of their armor was rent and poorly cleaned, it wouldn't be a stretch to believe that they were just Stormcloaks with mismatched disguises.
"Do you think there's a way for me to prove that we're Legionnaires?" Rena inquired.
"Not sure," the officer stated incredulously.
Rena thought about things that might convince him. "I am Capt. Rena Donton," she stated, handing over her captain's sword, "I fought in the Helgen Attack, the Fall Forest Massacre, the Whiterun Attack, the Battle for Whiterun and the first and second battles for the Reach. I wear a soldier's helmet to make sure I don't get picked off by archers. My most constant colleague is Capt. Ansgar Nor- "
"Wait a minute," the officer interrupted, "You know Capt. Ansgar? Tell me about him."
Of all the things that could prove her loyalty, knowing Ansgar wasn't something she thought would be one of them. "He's one of the most powerful warriors I've ever witnessed," she stated, "but kind of an ass."
The officer nodded. "Yup, you're Legion," he remarked, "I've fought alongside him and he's why I asked to be transfer to this frozen plane of Oblivion."
A tempting proposition. "So, you'll prepare for the Stormcloaks?" she inquired.
He handed her sword back. "Right away," he stated.
The officer and his entourage went back to the fort and Rena went back on the road. She had done her duty to Skyrim and that was enough for now. It was funny; she was starting to think about Skyrim more and more as a place with people who lived here more than just an assignment. She wondered what that meant. Hopefully, it wouldn't cloud her judgement.
Well, Ravani wasn't quite dead. She had learned no one pays attention to a corpse that's supposed to be there, so she pretended to be one, so no one pay much mind to her. Once the hold guard had their back to her, she jumped up behind them and put her dagger into their backs. They fell fast and didn't look back until the shouting became heard over the sounds of battle, three corpses in.
The guard that had stabbed her turned around and was taken aback by the sight of his comrades. They numbered so few now, maybe fifty if one was generous. It made for a shock when he threw down his blade so great his fellow stopped fighting to look upon him.
He threw down his helmet, revealing his head of dark red hair. "It's over!" he proclaimed, "I surrender Winterhold to the Legion."
It was Jarl Korir all this time. He fought with his men in their own armor for his hold. Admirable, if nothing else. He left the battlefield with his men following him. They respected him seemingly just as much as he respected them. Few could claim to have that. Ravani was impressed, even with her skepticism with the idea of such mutual loyalty.
As the Legion began to rest after the battle, an unexpected sight was theirs to behold. Out from the college walkway came an Altmer in the uniform of a Thalmor justiciar. How was a Thalmor this far into Stormcloak territory? Why was he still here? Ravani could only take a gulp of her remaining cabbage soup and await him to start talking.
"Who is your commanding officer?" he inquired, inpatient for the answer.
Ravani stood up to answer him. "That would be Tribune Malenshield," she explained, "but why do you ask?"
"Where is he?" he asked, ignoring the Dunmer's question.
"That's not really your concern, is it?" she replied.
The Thalmor rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how difficult it has been to survive out here?" he barked, "I've had to take refuge in the college to keep from being killed by these barbaric Nords. You wouldn't understand fearing for your life like that."
Oh, she would. "Try the Gray Quarter, goldenrod," Ravani snarked back.
The Thalmor left, offended and still trying to find the tribune. With a personality like that, Ravani was almost sad she wasn't in the Stormcloaks anymore. She could've stabbed him and gotten away with it. Though that may be the reason she left in the first place.
The time had come. The Legion was on its approach into Eastmarch. Soon enough, the men marching on the road and the fleet preparing to sail down the White river would make it to Windhelm and Ulfric would be left without his place of power. The war's end was in sight and little could stop them.
The only thing in their path was Fort Kastav and that wasn't much. It was only one fort against the three thousand strong that march down their path. Ravani was almost sad the garrison was about to die, as she knew them. Then again, she knew those bastards. She had little remorse for the foes ahead of her.
As they came upon the fort, they spotted the numbers had increased by ten. The Eastmarch hold guard had come to meet them. The hold guard was far different from the Stormcloak regulars, despite having the same uniform. These men were over a thousand strong and were the reason people were afraid of Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion. They had numbers and training that made the other holds fear them, while the warband lacked the discipline of their sister organization. They wouldn't find the glory hounds of the Stormcloak ranks here.
Before they could react a swarm of arrows were seen above their heads, threatening to block the setting sun. The Legionnaires barely had the time to block them as they landed into their ranks. They lost an around a hundred men in one volley. Ravani knew this wasn't going to be easy, but that was fast.
As the Legionnaires form a shield wall, the Eastmarch guards made their own. The two began sending volleys toward each other until it was obvious that they weren't making any ground. That's when the men with greatswords and warhammers charged into the Legion ranks. The frontlines did what they could but died fast.
Ravani knew she couldn't abide the asymmetrical tactics for long, not if they wanted to reach Windhelm with the next two days. As such, she threw herself on top of one of the shields as a surface, her weight not being an issue for the shield bearer and started loosing arrows at the Eastmarch berserkers. This didn't last long, as another volley fell into the Legion ranks, but she ducked under the shield just in time. Once the volley passed, she threw herself back onto the shield.
"Thanks for this," she remarked to the shield bearer.
"No problem," they replied.
This action was mimicked by other lightweight archers with disproportionate arm strength and they began taking out the numerous brutes. Other archers of greater weight continue to volley the Eastmarch ranks. It was much like this until not a berserker stood in their ranks, but the shield wall was still up.
To meet the Eastmarch shield wall, battlemages emerged from the Legion ranks to send fire and lightning into their foes. However, whoever was behind the hold guard's leadership and tactics spotted this and arrows caught them before a spark left their hands.
At least, that was as much as Ravani could see in this mess. She was just one soldier in among thousands stood shoulder to shoulder. She couldn't make out much over the ranks, but the officers' orders were heard by many, when they told battlemages to move up and when they were told to move back. Other than that, she saw as much as any soldiers
It was clear to all that this battle would move into the night. Almost as clear as that word that turned every soldier on that battlefield's blood colder that Skyrim's deadliest nights.
"Dragon!"
Ravani turned with every head in the army to behold a massive beast with purple scales and wings longer than the mountain path. It was safe to say no one had any question what it was. It was horrifying to behold it, for they knew it was almost certain they were going to die today. The Dunmer left a tear in her eye. She failed to stop this war in time and now she would die.
The dragon let loose a flurry of flames that cut a swath of death into the Legion ranks as they scattered, trying to find someplace to hide. Ravani found a rock rest against as she beheld the beast do much similar destructions upon Eastmarch's lines. It didn't care who wore what uniform; it was only here to kill everyone. The Dunmer could only conclude that was the truest thing about dragons she could see.
Running towards the Legion ranks, past all the carnage of the battlefield was a hold guard with the weight of a leader and a bow draw. The remaining Legionnaires were about to kill him when he raised his hands in peace. He didn't want to fight it seemed and that was not surprising with the circumstances before them.
"Please, come with me!" he asked, "If we stand together, we can force the dragon to retreat!"
"How can we trust a Stormcloak?" an officer replied.
Ravani wasn't having any doubt. "If we don't stand together, we'll die!" she barked at the officer, "Even if we die together, we have a better chance than apart!"
The officer was visible torn, but the dragon's screeches flung him from his conflict. "Legionnaires!" he ordered, "To the fort!"
The remaining Legion ranks bolted toward Fort Kastav as the dragon rained fire over their heads. It seemed to run out of flame as they reached the walls. There was hardly any space for additional warriors, but the ranks of these two enemies made a long wall of soldiers against the beast.
Ravani joined a volley of every arrow hold guard and Legionnaire had to spare and they flew into the dragon's hide, even if many missed. The arrows didn't pierce its scales, but the leathery wings were tearing like paper in a gruesome display for all around it. Yet it was still flying.
It lunged down unto the gather hold guard and Legion forces and cut another swath of flame through them. The heat threw many Legionnaires back in surprise, a few fell like death had suddenly taken them and it very well could have. The strength of the dragon was horrifying. What could mortals do against it?
With nothing certain but death, Ravani chose to draw her bowstring again. It may be pointless to resist, but resistance was her only option.
She loosed an arrow at its wings, but it went wide and fell into some parts unimportant. She loosed a second and it hit the wings, but it was still in the air. A third arrow was nocked, drawn and loosed, but it wasn't alone. A swarm of arrows flew into the air with it. Ravani saw that every soldier who could stand, had hands and a bow joined her in her volley. She breath a sigh of relief that wasn't alone, though it did seem like it.
The volley found its way into the dragon's silhouette, mostly around the wings. The beast was losing its grace in the air. It occurred to Ravani that if it fell, the force of falling may be enough to kill it. She began loosing arrows with the intent to cut the wings and the other archers caught wind of her idea. Many an arrow began pierce its hide as it flew around, trying to maintain flight, but it was useless. With thunderous force, it crashed into the mountain side like a baby bird failing to grasp the techniques of flying.
But it wasn't dead, much to the shock of soldiers that were prepared to celebrate. It rose from the snow and rock, screeching and whining like some Daedric child. Ravani was through with waiting for its death and volley arrows into it landed body. Every archer joined her and the force of that many arrows pierced it hide and it fell to the ground, dead.
Never had Ravani seen a dragon, but she hadn't heard many stories of their deaths. The Dragonborn was said to be the only one that could kill them, but that proved as false as the ribbons of light said to writhe in the winds.
Before a single soldier could cheer, the Eastmarch commander ordered, "Throw the body into the sea. We can't be safe until it's done."
As soldiers left the fort to drag its body to the shoreline, Ravani collapsed. She swore to whatever gods would listen that she would be a holy woman if she never had to fight another dragon again.
By night's fall, Rena and party reached Solitude unscathed. If they hadn't gone to Morthal, they would've had three of four less hours to their travel. Fortunately, they didn't have wild animals, bandits or worse jump them at any point on the road or off it. Though all this good fortune would be for naught if they couldn't summon reinforcements.
Through the road into Solitude, it was plainly clear the city was on edge. Legionnaires patrolled the streets to supplement the city guard absent during night shifts. No folk lingered, while before there were usually stragglers here or there. What windows were there had been boarded. It all gave the impression they were expecting war.
When they climbed the hill to Castle Dour, Rena found a Legion company was just there. They weren't doing exercises, they weren't patrolling the grounds, they weren't fighting anyone. It was just another sign of the times. Rena hoped they would never see this city a battlefield.
The party dismounted and Rena excused them to the barracks while she went to the war room. She found General Tullius and Legate Rikke just tired. Tullius was caught in the middle of drinking some unknown drink and Rikke was reading something she seemed to have read before. They both looked like this was getting to them.
"General Tullius," Rena said in a ridged tone, "The Stormcloaks have been forced from the Reach, but we've taken heavy losses. We request reinforcements."
Tullius nodded. "I'm sorry to say," he stated, "but reinforcements aren't coming for a while."
The captain was trying to hide her shock and confusion. "I beg your pardon?" she requested.
The general sighed and stood up to walk to the table. "We've sent word for reinforcements to the homeland, but it's going to be a while," he stated, "With Falkreath taken, we can't rely on the roads to transport soldiers. They'll need to sail here."
Rena knew how terrible that news was. Sailing from the closest port city of Anvil, sailing reinforcements would take over a month's travel to reach Solitude. What's more, they wouldn't be safe from opportunistic pirates or political enemies that decided the Empire's wishes would be best to undermine. So even if the reinforcements arrived safely, there's no telling if they would be useful.
"I'm sorry, but those are the facts," Tullius continued, "We can only hope the northern campaign goes well."
Rena didn't know what the northern campaign fully entailed. She heard that Legion forces successfully took Dawnstar, but not much else since she first heard word. One could assume it was securing the northern holds, perhaps with the endgame of taking Windhelm, but she didn't know. She would have to wait and see like everyone else.
But that wasn't as much an immediate concern as food. She hadn't eaten anything since this morning, so headed down to the mess hall for a late dinner. When she got there, it was mostly empty, with the needing to be woken up to get her some food. When she finally got some, it was a leftover meat pie, some raw leaks and half a bottle of ale. She ate it and left.
She went to the bathhouse next. As opposed to the lacking crowd of the mess hall, the baths were packed. Nearly every pool was full of soldiers who had the proof to say they had seen battle across their bodies. Despite the population, it was quiet, with few having conversations that could reach anyone's ears. It seemed they mostly wished to relax here. They were probably fresh from the front.
Rena found a modestly full pool and rested in its waters. Nearly a week of constant stress and battle was washed away in the calming bath, but she was encouraged not to linger. She saw that the other occupants were already pruned from their time submerged and some had even fallen asleep, needing their comrade to keep from falling underwater. She let herself calm down, but once she felt her skin starting to wrinkle, she was out.
In her assigned bed, she tinkered with her armor and sharped her blade, but she the reality of her situation soon came back to remind her. She had survived many battles but there were still many to fight. If a stray arrow or a heavy hammer found its mark, it was all over. The longer this damnable war went on, the more likely she'd die. It was driving her mad.
She went out for a walk in the Solitude streets and they did truly earn that title. Only the occasional guard to break up the monotony and remind her of curfew. The relative silence and lack of any real conversation would drive her mad. Well, the solitude would kill her, had company not find her.
Out from the shadows came a man with blackened eye sockets. "You!" he spoke in a craze, "You'll help me! You help people, right? That's what you do, right?"
Rena was confused and terrified, a hand on a dagger at her side. "What do you need?" she nervously asked.
"My master abandoned me!" he stated like an abandoned child, "Abandoned his people. And nothing I can say will change his mind. Now he refuses to even see me. He says I interrupt his vacation!"
He sounded confused and shocked such a thing was even happening. "It's been so many years," he mourned, "Won't you please help me?"
If it meant she didn't have to deal with a crazy man in the middle of the night, she would gladly sort it out. "How can I find your master?" she asked. She hoped a guard was right around the corner.
He seemed to have a smile on his face. "Last I saw him, he was visiting a friend in the Blue Palace," he explained, "But no one so mundane as the Jarl. No, no." Mundane as the Jarl? What does that mean? He continued, "Such people are beneath him. No, he went into the forbidden wing of the palace, to speak with an old friend. Said it was ages since they had last had tea."
"Oh, and you'll need the hip bone," he remembered, handing Rena a piece of an actually skeleton, "it's very important. No entering Pelagius' Wing without that." And then he left.
Confused, Rena went back to the barracks and donned her best clothes. She had never been to the Blue Palace, and while this was not ideal circumstances, she was going to look that part of a visitor. As an officer of the Legion, she was let in without the need to explain herself. She made sure no one could follow her to the delipidated west wing. Halfway through batting some cobwebs away, she blinked and was in the middle of the foggy woods.
"What in Molag's balls?" she cursed. This was going to drive her mad.