Chapter 14

The Jarl of Windhelm

Rona bought a slab of raw meat from the innkeeper before leaving and gave it to Karnwyr who stood up and wagged his tail, happy to see her. She knelt down next to the wolf and scratched behind his ears as he tore apart his meal and praised him, "You're a good boy Karnwyr, I don't care what Bishop says. You're definitely more dog than wolf."

Once he finished eating she pulled her hood up and clicked her tongue, getting him to follow her. She turned to her right and headed down a corridor leading into a market square and stood out of the way while she watched the city goers bustling about their day, exchanging goods and making conversation. She noticed the nords scowling, scoffing and tutting every time a dunmer passed by, meanwhile the dunmer tried to pretend the nords didn't exist at all. It was a strange sight to behold. She could never imagine such prejudice taking place in her very mixed hometown back in Cyrodiil.

Rona decided to take a chance and interact with the people at the stands. The first person she met with was an altmer woman running a general goods shop. The woman looked at her taken aback and said, "Never thought I'd see another altmer around these parts - ah! You must be that Dragonborn girl everyone's been talking about, well welcome dearie. Please have a look at my wares, I have only the best and the lowest prices too."

"Do you mind if I ask how long you've been in Windhelm?"

The high elf flit her long lashes at Rona and said dryly, "Just got here from the Summerset Isles. Lots of opportunity in Skyrim."

"Are you treated as poorly as the dunmer?" Rona asked her as she perused some of the items on the counter.

"It was difficult at first. The nords of this city are, at best, suspicious of outsiders. But in time, I made the right friends and proved myself useful enough that they don't give me trouble anymore. The dark elves are too proud and naive to understand the way things truly are and so they continue to dwell in that slum."

Rona was surprised by her answer. This woman had thick skin and seemed to take things in stride. And despite the way the nords treated the elves she'd worked for and earned their respect. Rona almost felt proud to call her kin until the woman dropped right into the snooty Aldmeri stereotype and simpered, "Well, if you're not going to buy anything dear would you mind clearing the way for actual patrons? I don't have all day and a girl's got to make gold you know."

Rona politely thanked her for her time and moved on, rolling her eyes to herself. Kin indeed, she thought. As she wandered around the small marketplace, meeting all kinds of people she learned quickly that being Dragonborn meant people were very comfortable divulging all their personal problems to her. Rona pulled an old journal from her pocket and started taking down names and notes for each person with a problem, hoping she could resolve it for them.

She really got into the swing of things as she wandered through the city. Every time she stopped to chat with total strangers and took a moment to listen to them, they seemed very appreciative. Though the nords were wary of her initially, thinking she was just another elf, when they realized she was the Dragonborn they opened up right away. They even stopped to pet Karnwyr who was loving the attention.

As she made her rounds she came down the steps to the slums of the city. They called it the Gray-Quarter because of all the dunmer living there. Rona walked by a sign with the words, New Gnisis Cornerclub, etched into it. She decided to pop in and get a glass of wine, telling Karnwyr to stay outside. As she entered the shabby, low lit tavern the bartender called out with a tone of hostility, "You lost friend?"

Rona lowered her hood and glanced at him. There were four other patrons inside, three sitting at the bar and a fourth leaning over a table, asleep or passed out drunk with a tipped over mug in his hand. They were all dark-elves.

The dunmer woman that had been harassed by the nords earlier was sitting at the bar. When she realized it was Rona she hissed, "Hush Ambarys, she's one of us. That's the Dragonborn. I told you about her earlier."

"Ah, I see. You're right Suvaris, I could have sworn she was a nord, but there's no mistaking it now," Ambarys muttered eyeing Rona's pointed ears, "Well feel free to take a seat Dragonborn!" He was suddenly much more amiable as Rona joined them. "Luaffyn here told us all about what you did to Rolff over at Candlehearth Hall."

He nodded to an orange haired dark elf woman sitting at the bar. She was blushing brightly and trying to hide her face, "Ambaryn..."

"Oh!" Rona recognized her, "You were the one on drums when I sang earlier. Thank you for accompanying my song," she smiled brightly at the woman.

"You flatter me Dragonborn, though it's I who should be thanking you. I've never felt more inspired to better my voice than when I heard you sing."

"So! What're you having?" Ambarys interjected, "The drink is on me!"

Rona smiled hesitantly and said, "That's quite alright, I can pay you."

"Oh come now," Suvaris said leaning her back against the bar, "You did us all a favor putting that idiot snow-back in his place. I heard your friend nearly choked the life out of him too. Serves him right!"

Suvaris and Ambarys laughed loudly though Rona looked uneasy and said, "I just didn't want anyone to get hurt."

Suvaris playfully pushed on Rona's shoulder and said, "Don't be like that girl. If you knew what he was like you'd laugh too. Tell you what, come back here tonight after midnight and you'll see exactly what I'm talking about."

The third dunmer patron who'd been quiet the entire time finally spoke up and said, "She's right. These nords treat us like trash and let their filth run down here into the slums so we get to live in it too. Suvaris was saying you wanted to help us? Well you can start helping by giving the nords what they deserve and I say Rolff and Angrenor got exactly what they deserved."

"Always worried about the garbage aren't you Malthyr?" Ambarys chided, "Still the pollution in our part of the city is out of control. Bet they'd shape up with a knife to their throats!"

"Violence won't solve this problem," Rona said firmly.

Suvaris rolled her eyes, "Well of course we don't expect you to go about by - what is it? Screaming people to death, the way Ulfric did with High King Torygg. Still you'd at least have a fighting chance just speaking to the man. All we want is some respect and common courtesy."

"And for the nords to quit dumping their trash down here," said Malthyr.

"And for more gold to trickle down to fix up our part of Windhelm," Ambarys added, "We pay our fair share in taxes, I'd like to see some of that money come back to us for once."

"I just wish Elda would stop taking all my tips," Luaffyn whispered shyly, "At least Susanna is nice enough to share hers when Elda's not looking..."

Rona listened closely to their plight, taking it all in. They were a lively bunch, keeping up high spirits despite the squalor they lived in. She started to realize just how large the rift between the dunmer and the nords was and she began to doubt herself.

Suvaris looked over at her, "So you'll talk to Ulfric for us? That was your plan from the beginning right?"

"Yes. I really wanted to see how he runs his hold and it's quite a lot to take in. The whole city seems to need renovations to be honest," Rona said downtrodden.

"Don't give up on us already," Malthyr pleaded when he heard her tone of voice, "Please Lady Rona, you're all we've got anymore. Everyone else is too afraid to speak up and even if they did, they wouldn't listen just cause we're dark-elves."

She met his gaze and gave him half a smile, "I'll try my best, but I can't make any promises."

Ambarys implored her, "Well if you do ever pick a side in this war, stick with the Imperials will you? If Ulfric gets his way it'll be over for us,"

Rona didn't agree to anything but instead pulled a large coin purse from her pouch. "Take this," she said handing it over to Ambarys.

"Wha - whoa," he opened it, letting the pile of gold slide onto the counter, "Lady Rona, I can't accept this."

"I'm investing in your business," she said firmly, "I've got plenty of gold now that people practically throw it at me and I want to put it to good use. Take it and use it to clean up the place. Invest it in your community."

"There's at least a thousand gold here," Malthyr stared, bewildered.

"Lady Dragonborn...I - I don't know how to thank you," Ambarys said.

"Use it to pull yourselves up because the nords won't help you. When I return and I see it's been used to build up your part of the city up I'll invest more."

"If Ulfric finds out, he'll raise the taxes on us to be sure!" Suvaris argued.

"See to it that he doesn't find out then," Rona said.

She took a bottle of wine and left another twenty gold on the counter and pressed fifty into Luaffyn's hands to keep as a tip for accompanying her song. She thanked them for their kindness, promised to do what she could to help them and left, Karnwyr following close behind her. The sun was setting and that meant she'd have to attend Alec's performance soon.

Rona had one more destination for the day and intended to go alone. She didn't want Bishop interfering with her talk with Ulfric Stormcloak. She stopped by Candlehearth Hall and made Karnwyr stay there as she left to go to the palace.

The guards on either side of the door stared at her as she went in but otherwise remained silent.

The palace was quite large, on par with Dragonsreach in Whiterun, with tall vaulted ceilings and two enormous long tables pressed together and centered down the middle of a long hall. At the end of those tables and further along the hall was a solid stone throne where Ulfric Stormcloak sat, perched at the edge of his seat discussing details about the war with his general.

"Balgruuf won't give us a straight answer," his general grumbled.

"He's a true nord. He'll come around," Ulfric sounded certain.

"Don't be so sure of that. We've intercepted couriers from Solitude. The Empire's putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun."

"And what would you have me do Galmar?"

"If he's not with us, he's against us."

Ulfric drawled, "He knows that. They all know that."

Rona approached the throne, keeping her hands at her sides where the guards nearby could see. The last thing she wanted was another incident with a Housecarl drawing on her, however the moment he noticed her, Galmar drew his axe and held it at the ready.

Ulfric stopped mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes at her. He leaned back in his seat and put an elbow on the arm of his throne and addressed her loudly, "Only the foolish or the courageous approach a Jarl without summons and I don't recall summoning a Thalmor for an audience. In fact I'm rather disappointed that my guards didn't cut you down where you stood...they should know better."

She heard the guards behind her start moving in. Rona gave Ulfric a harsh look and said, "I believe we've already met."

He took a closer look at her, his eyes scanning her over, "Is that so…?" He seemed to come to a realization and waved off his approaching guards and said, "Ah yes, you were at Helgen. Destined for the chopping block if I'm not mistaken. So what brings you to my hold elf? Come to fight for Skyrim and her people now that you've seen the Imperial scum treat even your kind as cattle meant for slaughter?"

"Considering you just called me Thalmor and elf without even knowing me, I'm going to have to decline," Rona shot back.

Ulfric leaned back, resting his head in his hand, and scoffed, "Hah, did I offended you, girl? Wait…" he paused again to look her over thrice more, "You're the Dragonborn aren't you? I see it now, the nord in your eyes."

She gave him a knowing look.

He laughed loudly and shook his head, "So you're the one my guards have all been whispering about. I heard you caused quite a stir in Candlehearth Hall. Best watch where you use your shouts though, I'll not hesitate to have you arrested if you harm my people."

"And by your people you mean the nords?"

He raised his brows at her comment, "Ah, I see you've been talking to the dark-elves."

"I've been talking to many people," she confirmed.

"Hmph, I imagine you have. So what brings you here Dragonborn? If it's not to join our cause then why do you stand before me?"

"I wanted to see for myself if you are worthy to be High King of Skyrim. A King should be good to his people, to all of them regardless of their race, so far though you've done nothing but disappoint. The way you treat the dunmer and the argonians is deplorable. How could I follow a man who would take one look at me and judge me purely by the shape of my ears or the color of my skin?"

Ulfric smirked at her, head still in hand, "You are an idealist Dragonborn, living in the fantasies of your own mind. No doubt you were raised in the Empire, am I right?"

Rona said nothing, though her blink may have given her away.

"I thought so," he said so sure of his assumptions, "Skyrim is the realm of the nords, it always has been. We did not ask the dark-elves to come here but when the Red Mountain erupted and they fled their homeland in droves we gave them a nords welcome. We provided them shelter and food, we let them sell their wares and pass through our city. We expected they would move on, but alas they did not. You wonder why they live down there, in the Gray-Quarter, dwelling in the slums, it is because they choose to. They are not forced to stay. And if you were to tell me that I should tear nord families who've lived in their homes for generations so that I might give them to the elves, then you are a fool."

"I would never ask such a thing," Rona replied.

"Then what do you ask of me Dragonborn?"

"To treat them better, to show them kindness and to put money towards restoring their share of this great city, which they help to preserve," she implored.

Ulfric waved a hand, dismissing her, "There is no money in our coffers, not even for our own people while this war wages. You ask too much Dragonborn. Though...if you were to join us, to help take down the Imperial dogs and free our lands I might consider it. What say you?"

She paused, studying him and treading carefully with her words, "You are right, I was raised in Cyrodiil, but I was born in Skyrim. Ever since I came here I've struggled to find my place in this land. I'm half altmer and half a nord and while I've faced discrimination from the Thalmor my entire life I was troubled to find that the kin of my other half do the same. Every where I've turned I've faced needless cruelty and harsh words from the nords who see me as nothing more than an outsider, as though I'm here to persecute them when in fact I only wish to help them. Despite the prejudice I endure every day, I choose to stay here. These lands hold a special place in my heart and I want nothing more than to see peace and prosperity throughout them."

Ulfric stood up and approached her, a fire burning in his eyes. He held his hands up and said "You have great passion Dragonborn! You are a true daughter of Skyrim," he stood before her, towering over her, forcing her to look up to him, "Tell me, who do you fight for?"

"I fight for Skyrim and her people, all her people," she stood resolute.

He grinned down at her and said, "Do you know why I fight?"

She remained silent, knowing he'd give her the answer in a moment.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil. I fight for their wives and children whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths. I fight for we few who did come home only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces," his voice grew louder and more impassioned as he carried on, "I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been done for nothing. I fight...because Skyrim needs heroes and there's no one else but us."

He stared down at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. She was astounded by the arrogance of this man. He certainly had a way with words; words which he injected a fiery fervor into. She could see how people would be easily duped by his heartfelt monologues. Whether he truly believed in what he was saying or not was another matter in itself.

Rona might have been a petite woman of four foot, eleven inches, nearly two heads shorter than the large nord looming over her, but her heart burned with an even greater passion than his own, for hers was genuine.

"I won't join you."

"Tsk..." he threw his head and turned away from her, "Then what good are you? Do you intend to join General Tulius? I dare you to meet with him. See if he won't tell you why he meant to execute you. I can see you're no criminal, but you're certainly no Dragonborn either."

She felt her blood boil, a rage burning deep inside her. He was provoking her, purposely, she knew that much. She wanted to shout him to shreds, but held back. Instead she said, "I've already been to see the Greybeards and begun my training."

He looked back over his shoulder, "Truly. So you've met them then? Tell me, how is Arngeir?"

"Thoroughly disappointed in you," she lied, seething.

He laughed, "Ah, of course he would be," he took his seat upon his throne and looked down at her again, "I was to become a Greybeard myself you know."

She didn't hide her surprise this time.

He smirked, "You didn't know? Of course not. Arngeir never told you about me at all, did he? And why would he, I'm sure he hasn't forgiven me for leaving," he looked off to the side, as he reminisced, "They chose me when I was just a boy. It was a great honor, of course and so I went and studied with them. They taught me how to shout. I spent nearly ten years there on High Hrothgar learning the Way of the Voice. Then the Great War came...I couldn't stand missing it. I often think about High Hrothgar. It's very...disconnected from the troubles down here."

Rona felt a strange spark of kinship with him. She absolutely hated living up on that mountain, missing out on the adventure and spirit of the world. She couldn't bear to imagine what ten years of that would be like.

He looked back at her, almost brooding in a way. "But that's why I couldn't stay and why I couldn't go back. I suppose the Greybeards care about Skyrim's troubles in their way, but I needed to do something about it. I'm sure Arngeir would call it one of my failings."

"So it's true what they say. You did shout the High King to death."

He chuckled, "That's not entirely true, though not entirely false either. Any Nord can learn the Way of the Voice by studying with the Greybeards, given enough ambition and dedication. My shouting Torygg to the ground proved he had neither. However it was my sword piercing his heart that killed him. I rarely use my training though. The Greybeards believe the Voice should only be used for worship of Kynareth. I have...fallen from their strict teaching, but I still don't feel it should be used lightly. Not all of Arngeir's lecturing was wasted, it seems."

"I don't understand," she said, feeling more confused than ever about her path, "Why would they teach me to shout if they didn't want me to use it?"

"You're Dragonborn," Ulfric said simply, as though that were reason enough, "The rules don't apply to you. You can shout the way dragons do...without training, through inborn instinct. They always hope to teach the Dragonborn to respect the Way of the Voice as they do. They never fully succeed. You'll have to make your own decision. It's a beautiful philosophy, but outside the seclusion of High Hrothgar, I was never able to hold to it."

Her focus drifted from him as her mind wandered, stirring over this information. Ulfric must have been staring at her for over a minute or so when he finally said, "Well Dragonborn, it seems our meeting must come to an end. I have a performance to attend this evening and important people to meet with."

She broke from her reverie and cried, "Ah! The performance!" she turned to race out of the palace then turned back quickly to a very amused Ulfric. She bowed cordially and said, "Thank you, Jarl Ulfric, for speaking with me."

As she made to leave again he called out to her, "Wait Dragonborn. I'm afraid I did not get your name before."

She turned back and smiled brightly at him, though deep down inside she wanted nothing more than to punch him in his smug face and said, "My name is Rona Lightfoot."