Morning came, and Ako woke up to a very angry Lucan Valerius awaiting him, stomping loudly in the inn's common room.
"You! Where's my claw?" he demanded angrily.
"Your what? What are you talking about?" Ako asked, sleep still heavy in his voice.
"My golden claw! I refused to sell it to you, and now it's been stolen! Do you take me for a fool?" Lucan answered.
Dispelling the last dregs of sleep from his eyes, Ako answered calmly. "It's been stolen? What a coincidence. And no, it wasn't me. You can ask Delphine; I didn't leave the inn at all. Although, I don't exactly blame you for coming to the conclusion that you did, Lucan."
Lucan appeared surprised at the serene tone of Ako's voice. "What? But... argh, I was sure of it! Ugh. For what it's worth, sorry. I should have realized it wasn't you when the thieves mentioned Bleak Falls Barrow."
Ako felt pity for the man's sheepish tone. "Forget about it. If I ever come across it, I'll be sure to let you know."
A quick breakfast later, and Ako was on the road north. Whiterun lay at the end of another 8 or so hours' walk, leaving him with plenty of time to talk with the Jarl before the day was out. If all went well, Ako would be back in Winterhold by the end of the week. He'd been away from the college for too long.
As he walked, he noted the abundance of wildlife. Many birds were chittering loudly in the trees, fleeing from a hawk, or scratching on the ground in search of food. Rabbits were bolting from holes near the road, the white tails like a flashing beacon trailing them. Elk were scattered in the trees, skittishly jumping when they caught the Arch-Mage's scent. The deer were less cautious, sparing only a slight glance in his direction from the riverside where they grazed.
After about two hours of travel, Ako caught a faint smell of wolves. While as a Khajiit he had a better olfactory sense than any human or elf, he had been raised by Bretons, and therefore was untrained in the delicate nuances that other Khajiit could pick up. As he rounded a large boulder, he found the source, a small pack. He didn't really want to fight, preferring to leave them in peace.
Unfortunately, the wolves gave Ako no such luxury. Without even a warning growl, the first wolf flung itself at Ako. Its trajectory in the air was abruptly reversed, courtesy of a large spike of ice that impaled the wolf against a tree. The rest of the wolves soon followed suit, smaller but no less deadly icy projectiles thrown from Ako's hands, piercing their throats or hearts. Ako grumbled in annoyance as the last wolf yelped, ice sticking from its eye. He hadn't wanted to kill them, preferring a live and let live approach. Then again, the roads of Skyrim weren't a stroll in the park.
The road continued to meander lazily next to the river, but not too far ahead Ako could see the spray as the White River plummeted to the plains of Whiterun. When he got to the twisting path leading down, he was stunned by the vista that spread out before him. Vast plains of golden grass surrounded a city on a hill, topped by a magnificent castle. Ako realised that must be Whiterun, and the famous Dragonsreach castle, his destination. He was still a good four hours away from the city, but even from this far out he could see it was a prosperous place.
Ako spent the next few minutes making a quick sketch of the view that stretched out before him. He wasn't a gifted artist, but he liked to have memory aids of beautiful sights. For the umpteenth time this journey he regretted that he had never left Winterhold. Ako had never truly realised how beautiful Skyrim was. He had seen some of it in his dreams, but even that didn't compare to the real thing. Perhaps he would take time to explore it properly once he got back. The months of travelling had a way of inducing a wanderlust that Ako had never known before.
Descending to the plains, Ako caught a whiff of honey on the breeze. He wondered what it was, until he came to a building with a sign declaring it to be the Honningbrew Meadery. Ako wasn't a drinker himself, but he appreciated the dedication that went into the brewing process itself. Large fields of wildflowers coloured the landscape behind the meadery, buzzing bees busily gathering pollen for the honey of the meadery.
The roaring river that he'd kept at his shoulder for the past two days drifted off to the west, having been joined by a smaller river originating from Whiterun. Ako passed a few guards patrolling the road, a few tents scattered around the meadery serving as shelter. Large windmills were strewn about the farmlands surrounding Whiterun, becoming ever more imposing as Ako came closer to the city.
As he passed the first farmlands, an angry roar came from within a walled cabbage field. Ako turned his head to see a large humanoid figure, covered in intricate, swirling tattoos and scars, wielding the femur of some massive creature as a club. He had heard of these creatures, but it was his first time actually seeing a live giant. They wandered the tundra, tending to be peaceful as they herded mammoths, but occasionally one went rogue, such as this one obviously had.
Edging closer, spells readied in case the giant decided to pancake him, Ako saw the cause of the giant's ire; 3 warriors clad in armour. One older female Nord, a redheaded archer, stood a bit away unloading her quiver into the giant with frightening speed. She wore a strange, ancient-looking armour, which left little of her body to the imagination. Another female, an Imperial brunette clad in leather with sword and shield darted in closer, stabbing at the giant's calves. Lastly, a male Nord who could almost be classified as a giant himself, wielding a massive greatsword with deceptive ease.
The warriors seemed to have the situation under control, until the giant lifted his club and swept it down with a wide arc. At the bottom of the arc was the male warrior, and screams of rage from the females. The crunch of bone and steel was audible as he went flying into the low wall 30 feet away with a bone-crunching impact. Ako immediately realised the man must be dead or very near to it, and stepped in.
Fire flew from his hands, engulfing the giant in white-hot flames, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air as the giant was turned to ash by the intense magical flames Ako produced. Ako ran as fast as he could towards the wrecked warrior, again dropping to his knees next to a mortally wounded man. The steel armour was dented and fractured in most places, the elaborate decorations horribly disfigured, and cutting into the man's flesh in a way that made it impossible to remove quickly.
Ako focused his magicka, drawing on the magicka of the world around him to assist him. He sent out tendrils of energy into the man's body, trying to determine where the healing is most needed. However, to his great surprise, a foreign magickal energy violently repelled his, resisting all attempts to discern what is broken. Ako looked at the man's companions with a fire in his eyes, and cast a quick spell at them, designed to reveal magical energies.
His eyes, slightly glowing beneath his hood from the magickal sight of the spell, immediately snapped towards the redhead. In clipped, urgent tones he asked, "What are you?"
Aela stood in shock as the strange Khajiit stared intensely at her, asking her what she was. 'How could he possibly know?' she asked herself. She had never seen or heard of him, and was unequipped to deal with the potential ramifications of exposing their secret to a complete stranger. Anger fuelled by panic coursed through her veins, after her heart got stuck in her throat as her Shield-Brother went flying.
"What are you talking about, cat?" she replied defensively.
"You and he share something, what is it?" the cat snapped back.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Aela retorted, but her voice quavered just a bit, betraying her fear and insecurity with Farkas so injured.
Stifling a groan, the cat turned his attention to Ria, the brunette. "You, get a cart from the farmer. This guy needs to get to the temple. Move it!" Ria scurried off in the farm's direction. The cat immediately returned his forceful gaze to Aela, and demanded, "She's gone now. You and he share something that interferes with my healing. If you want him to live, you'll tell me what you are. Now!"
Aela struggled with her emotions for a few brief seconds, then answered in defeat, "Werewolf. We're werewolves."
The cat's dark eyes brightened slightly, and a golden light enveloped him and Farkas. Farkas's rapid, shallow breaths slowed and deepened slightly, and Aela let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
As the redhead revealed the secret, Ako immediately realised why his healing wouldn't work. 'Of course! The wolf spirit would interfere with my magicka, seeing it as a threat perhaps.' Ako changed the spell slightly, diverting some of his focus to soothing the wild animal, similar to what he did for the bear in Helgen's caves not two days earlier. Immediately he felt the foreign energy, the wolf spirit, calm down and allow his magicka access, though not fully.
Ako felt broken ribs, punctured lungs, a shattered pelvis and a crushed spine amongst other injuries, the sheer amount of severe injuries stunning him. The warrior was immensely lucky to have avoided hitting his head. Ako healed the ribs as best he could, removing splinters from the lungs and sealing it back up. The warrior's breathing eased up, allowing Ako to take a slight breather and focus on the other injuries that could cripple him for life.
The brunette warrior returned, stammering, "T - there is no cart at the farm."
Ako thought intensely for a few moments, dredging up his alchemy knowledge. "Run to the city, warn your people. Get the alchemist to gather the following ingredients for when I get there, he'll need it: garlic, juniper berries, wheat and blue mountain flowers. If he has it, wolfsbane petals too. If he doesn't, ask the court mage."
The Imperial repeated the list a few times before she ran off. Turning to Ako, the redheaded Nord had a furious scowl on her face. "Are you insane?! Do you even know what wolfsbane does to werewolves?"
"Probably better than even you do. I mean neither you nor him any harm. If the alchemist doesn't have any I'll have to ask for some of your blood. Come, help me remove his armour," Ako replied, with a hint of scorn in his voice. The Nord still radiated anger, but did as he asked. "We can't just pull it off, it has bent and hooked into his skin. We'll have to take it apart bit by bit. Cut all the straps along the side for me please?" Ako asked, pointing out the fragmented steel on the warrior's front and back.
The archer did as she was asked, taking out a steel dagger and deftly severing the leather straps that held the armour together. Once the various pieces of the armour was separated, Ako instructed the redhead to carefully remove them, keeping his hands on the injured Nord to keep him unconscious. As the first piece of dented armour came off, pieces of flesh sticking to the jagged edges of steel, the dark-haired man jerked in obvious pain. Ako fought to keep him unconscious, forcing his magicka to leech the pain away. After a slow, painful and laborious few minutes of removing armour, Ako could finally start to heal the man without having him squeezed between back and front.
With the Nord dressed only in bloody underarmour, the redhead asked Ako, "Why did you wait to start removing his armour?"
Ako replied, "Because he was that close to death. I needed to heal his internal injuries sufficiently for him to withstand the shock of removing the mangled pieces of metal. He'll live. I don't know if he will be crippled or not, though I certainly intend to try my best to prevent it." Ako started healing the man's crushed vertebrae, deeming them to be the most vital of the various injuries remaining.
Once he finished with that, he pulled out a blue potion to restore some of his magicka from his bag and downed it with a grimace. As he finished with the most serious of injuries, Ako realized his magicka was almost fully drained. He felt exhausted, but knew there was some way to go yet. Once again directing his attention to the redhead, he asked, "How far is it to the temple in the city, …"
"Aela. My name is Aela," she replied. "The city and temple are about half an hour travel from here. How will we get Farkas there? He certainly can't do it on his own."
Ako let out an exhausted sigh. "I'll carry him."
Aela did a double-take at his words. "What?"
"Get my pack and your stuff, I'll carry him."
"But how? You are so skinny, he must weigh at least double what you do," Aela spluttered in astonishment.
Focusing the last of his magicka, Ako first sent it to his core muscles, strengthening them as he picked up the giant of a Nord. 6'6 if he was an inch, weighing at least 250 pounds, strained Ako's muscles, enhanced strength and all. Aela could only stare in astonishment as the lean Khajiit lifted Farkas up into a rescue carry, the heavyset Nord slung across his shoulders making for a surreal picture.
Ako stifled a groan as he transferred the spell fortifying his strength to his legs, and took off with firm strides in the direction of Whiterun. He hoped the slight trickle of magicka needed to sustain his strength would last until he reached the city. He heard Aela cursing behind him, picking up his pack and the weapon of the big Nord, Farkas. The ruined armour was left behind, good for nothing but scrap.
A short while later Ako passed the stables near the city gates. Aela was pacing a few steps ahead of him, dealing with the astonished bystanders and guards all staring at him carrying the big Nord. He hated the attention, but right now he couldn't care less, not if a proper life was at stake. Even his own immense reserves of magicka weren't enough to heal everything resulting from the beating.
Hurrying through the city, a pounding headache began forming behind his eyes. This warned Ako that his magicka was dangerously low, and he felt his fortifying spell slip momentarily. His knees buckled slightly as a result, and he dug deep, scrounging up every last bit of his magicka just to sustain him to the temple. His headache intensified such that he couldn't pay attention to anything other than putting one foot ahead of the other, tagging behind Aela.
Trudging up a flight of stairs, he vaguely heard the brunette from earlier, calling from a nearby door. Stumbling through, he felt hands ushering him to a nearby stone table, where he used the last of his sagging strength to gently lay Farkas on his side. As Ako's headache started to clear up slightly, since he was no longer expending any magicka, he noticed the people near him.
One was the brunette he had used as errand girl, standing near Aela. The other was a man who looked nearly identical to the injured man, with an expression of urgent worry in his eyes. Ako thought that this must be a brother of Farkas. The last person to enter was an elderly Nord woman, wearing light brown robes with a faded yellow hood, indicating her to be a priestess.
As she raised her hands to pump healing magic into Farkas, Ako managed to yell with a voice hoarse from exhaustion, "Wait, no!"
The priestess flinched from the strange Khajiit's forceful voice. Ako turned to Aela, beckoning her and Farkas's brother to come closer. Taking their hands and placing them on Farkas, he looked over to the priestess and said, "Now. Broken collarbones. Shattered shoulder blades. Most of his legs. That is all that needs healing still." Her eyes went as wide as saucers when the "still" came through. Directing his attention to the brunette, Ako asked, "Please get the alchemist to send the ingredients here, along with a mortar and pestle as soon as possible. Oh, and a small magicka potion!"
As the priestess started healing Farkas, Ako pulled Aela and the brother's little magicka out of them, using it to subdue and calm the wolf spirit in Farkas. The male Nord gave a start as Ako focused, but calmed down as Aela glared at him. Ako's headache flared up again, but he kept on until the priestess finished with the last of Farkas's injuries.
With a long, exhausted sigh Ako said, "There. I think he's in the clear for now. Mostly."
Collapsing onto a nearby chair, Ako looked at Farkas's brother and said, "I suppose introductions are in order. Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Aela I know. You are?" Ako slowly rubbed his temples, the splitting headache showing no signs of abating.
"Uhm… Vilkas, of the Companions," the man replied.
"Companions… hmm, something to do with Ysgramor?" Ako mused. Just as Vilkas looked to comment on his question, the doors opened and the brunette came in with a few small packs of ingredients in one hand, and a mortar and pestle in the other. Ako beckoned to her to hand him the packages, which contained the garlic, juniper, wheat and flowers. He let out a muted curse when it became clear that there was no wolfsbane.
Turning to Aela and Vilkas, he asked, "Can I ask you two something? In private?"
Nodding their assent, they moved into a private room. Ako queried in a low voice, "What's your relation to Farkas? Brothers? And are you in on the secret? Never mind how I know if you are," looking at Vilkas.
Vilkas nodded in surprise. "Yes…. We're twins."
"Great. Now, I need you to trust me. I need some of your blood, otherwise Farkas might still be crippled. His spine was crushed by the giant. I healed it as best I could, but I want to make a potion to encourage the nerves to regrow properly, instead of just connecting again. Since you share the same Blood, it will greatly improve his chances of walking properly after this. Please, for Farkas."
Vilkas felt extremely uncomfortable at the thought of magic, and now that the Arch-Mage asked for some of his blood… He wanted to refuse immediately, but if Farkas really needed it… Vilkas would do almost anything for his brother. With a long sigh, he said, "Fine. How much?"
Ako reassured him. "Only a few drops, a thimbleful at most. Get it while I prepare the rest of the potion."
Returning to Farkas's bedside, Ako started on the potion. Crushing together all the various ingredients in the mortar, he filled an empty potion bottle with water from a spring flowing through the temple. Aela returned with a tiny bottle containing a dark red liquid. Slowly adding the pungent, sweet-smelling paste to the blood and water, he summoned fire to quickly boil the concoction. Once he was satisfied the ingredients had properly released their inherent magics, he used a frost spell to cool it down to a drinkable temperature. With the priestess's help, Ako tipped the potion into the unconscious Farkas' mouth.
Vilkas confronted Ako as soon as he left the temple, demanding to know how Ako knew about the secret they shared.
Ako wearily lifted his head, "I asked. And if Aela hadn't answer, I could have figured it out on my own. But by then it would have been too late." Vilkas started to protest again, but Ako cut him off. "Please, I won't spill it, and you can question me all you want tomorrow. I'm exhausted, so just direct me to a place where I can sleep." Vilkas looked unhappy, but relented and showed Ako to an inn near the temple, named the Bannered Mare.
Inside the inn, Ako booked a room for the night. It was still early in the afternoon, so the inn was mostly empty. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he dropped his pack on the ground and flopped forward onto the bed. His headache was slightly improved, but the consequences of the sheer amount of magicka he used in an hour would bother him a few days more. His body was also screaming at him in exhaustion, having carried a man double his weight for nearly half an hour. Sleep swiftly claimed him.
The sun was high in the sky when Ako awoke the next day. His muscles were stiff and complaining, but he expected it. After 3 months on the road, he ought to be fine by tomorrow. Despite being exhausted, he didn't get a good night's rest. The dragon of Helgen plagued his dreams, again spewing mocking words in a language unknown. The nagging familiarity that accompanied the dragon was only reinforced, time and time again as he closed his eyes.
Thinking back on the nightmare served to remind Ako that he still had to talk to the Jarl about it. He resolved to seek an audience as soon as he had a quick bite to eat. He wasn't too hungry, but having not eaten in more than 24 hours always made him cranky. Add the lack of sleep to it, and Ako was seriously worried that his irritability might lead to him doing something rash.
Heading uphill after breakfast, Ako passed the temple where he had left Farkas the day before. Looking over the detailed carvings on the pillars surrounding the door, he learnt that the temple was dedicated to Kynareth, the goddess of the heavens and winds, generally associated with nature. Across from it stood a great tree, devoid of all leaves, but the bark still looked strong and healthy. The tree was surrounded by an empty bower over shallow waterways, with a few benches scattered around the courtyard. Ako could sense ancient magic about the tree, but it was subdued, dormant. Off to the eastern extremity of the city stood what seemed to be an overturned ship, with double doors set in its side.
Between the ship and the bower was a large statue, of a man in heavy chainmail. A regal cloak hung around the shoulders, and a winged helmet with an open face framed a stern visage. A large sword, presumably meant to be wielded with two hands, was held in the statue's hands, pinning a large snake to the ground while it coiled around the man's legs. This, Ako knew, was a statue of Talos, the forbidden Divine, and the nominal cause of the civil war. Whether or not the real reason was so simple, Ako did not know. He doubted it, though.
Moving to the far north, Ako climbed the stairs of Dragonsreach. 3 broad flights carried him to the top, the stairs surrounded by waterfalls that fed the city's waterways. Ako surmised that there must be a large spring under Dragonsreach for the water to continually flow like this.
Dragonsreach itself was beyond impressive. Large wooden arches rose from ground level, joined together in the centre to form a stylized dragon. This served as the bridge crossing pools of water, slow bubbling within revealing them to be the spring or springs Ako guessed to be here. The castle consisted of many tiers, climbing higher the further away from the city it went. Every single roof ridge was covered in the same stylized dragon that appeared on the front arches. Guards stood watch at the massive double doors at the end of the bridge. It was an imposing sight, somewhat reminding Ako of the College that he ran. But the college was much older.
Turning around to take in the view, Ako saw that the city was divided into 3 parts. The upper part consisted solely of Dragonsreach. A bit lower down, the overturned ship and the Temple of Kynareth were in a large residential district. Most of the houses seemed to have wealthy owners, if their condition was anything to go by. Trees, taking advantage of the shelter provided by the houses, sprung up between them. The last, and by far the largest district, was the lowest, business-oriented area. Merchant stalls, blacksmith's shops and more seemed to crowd each other for attention.
Inside the city, the population was mostly Nord, with a few exceptions. Outside, however, proved why Whiterun was a trader's hub. Outside the walls, travelling merchants had set up camp, a disparate assembly of all walks of life. Some were Khajiit like himself, selling anything and everything. A Redguard weapons merchant was showing off scimitars from his homeland. There was even an Argonian jeweller amongst them. High Rock tailors were displaying the latest fashions, with a continuous stream of female attention following. Ako chuckled at the sight.
Sitting down at the top of the stairs, he dug out his journal and stationery, sketching the view. It was a pleasant reminder of the frivolities of life, the masses going about their everyday business. Ako was engrossed with getting every detail of the roadside market onto paper, and he didn't notice one of the door guards coming up to him.
"That's a rather nice sketch you have there, cat," he said without any malice, a strong Nord accent colouring his speech.
"Thanks," Ako responded, not looking up from his drawing.
A few moments of silence passed before the guard cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow lollygaggin'. You'll have to move soon. Who are you by the way?"
Allowing the scratch of the charcoal on paper to be the only sound for a few more seconds, Ako looked up at the guard, "I am almost done. I need to speak to the Jarl anyway. I'm Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Pleased to meet you."
The guard looked uncomfortable at being around a mage, the Arch-Mage not least, but swallowed his apprehension as he said, "Hrol at your service, Arch-Mage. Sorry for disturbing you. I should've recognised the robes."
"Nonsense, you were just doing your job, no harm done. There, I'm finished now." Giving Hrol a Khajiit grin, Ako stood up as he packed his journal away. "I need to speak to the Jarl. Would you mind showing me in?"
As Ako entered the great hall, he was once again awestruck by the rich decorations of the palace. Directly in front of him was a small flight of stairs that led to the main dining area of the hall, a roaring fire pit with tables to either side. Behind the fire was a raised dais, where the throne stood. Guards stood watch on either side, the Jarl himself sitting wearing a rich cloak and jewelled diadem, in deep conversation with a bald Imperial in fine clothes. On the wall above it, a large skull hung. For some reason, Ako felt sadness tinged with anger when he saw that it was a dragon's skull.
To the left of the stairs was a door, leading to the kitchen if the smells emanating from it were anything to go by. On the right a small library could be seen behind a cluttered desk, papers scattered everywhere. Elaborate carvings, proclaiming the history of the keep, adorned the pillars that held up the roof, large banners bearing the sigil of Whiterun hanging from the galleries. Large, thick arches, the same design as those outside, came up from the galleries, carved with dragon motifs.
Ako, the curious being that he was, couldn't help but looking at and analysing the carvings. He didn't notice a Dark Elf stepping down from the dais, unsheathing a sword. As Ako came to the fire, attention still focused on the carvings, she confronted him with an authoritative voice. "What's the meaning of this intrusion? Jarl Balgruuf is not expecting visitors."
Suddenly faced with a naked sword dangerously close to his throat, Ako flinched back and panicked. He flung an outstretched hand forward, glowing with orange magicka, and the Dunmer's sword went flying upwards out of her hand, burying itself in one of the arches overhead. Ako realized what he had done, and grimaced in embarrassment. Making a show of lowering his hands, he said to the Dunmer, "My apologies. I was distracted, and you startled me. I am Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. I bring news to your Jarl, of Helgen."
Surprise replaced the furious glare on the Dunmer's face. "Helgen? Come then, the Jarl would want to speak to you personally." Walking back to the dais, she turned to the Jarl. "My Jarl, this man…"
She was interrupted by the Jarl. "Thank you Irileth, I heard. Don't be too hard on him." It was clear that he was struggling not to laugh, amusement sparkling in his eyes. With an awkward expression on his face, Ako walked forward. Seeing the empty sheath on Irileth's hip, he held out a hand, again glowing with the orange telekinetic magicka. The sword jiggled itself free from the rafter it was stuck in, and came flying into his hand. He held it out hilt-first to Irileth, who took it with a fierce scowl aimed at Ako.
Jarl Balgruuf couldn't keep his mirth contained any more, and chuckled softly for a bit. Composing himself, he turned to Ako. "Welcome Arch-Mage. It has been long since any wearing those robes graced these halls."
Ako bowed and said, "I thank you, my Jarl. My apologies for the entry." Sparing a quick glance at the glowering Dunmer, he added, "I was startled. The curse of the scholar; curiosity, distraction and being absentminded."
The Jarl chuckled again, "No harm done. It was comical to see." Turning serious, he added, "So, you were at Helgen? What can you tell me about the dragon?"
Ako quickly related what he could about the dragon and their subsequent escape, leaving out the details of how he came to be in Helgen in the first place. As he finished, the Jarl turned to the Imperial he was talking to when Ako entered. "I should've guessed Ulfric is mixed up in this. What say you now, Proventus? Do we continue to trust in the strength of our walls against a dragon?"
Irileth immediately answered, "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It is in the most immediate danger if the dragon is lurking in the mountains."
The bald Imperial said in affronted tones, "The Jarl of Falkreath will view it as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him!" He looked ready to continue with his protestations, but the Jarl imposed his authority.
"Enough! I will not stand by and let my hold burn and my people get slaughtered. Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."
"Yes, my Jarl!" Saluting and turning to leave, Irileth was stopped by Ako's hand on her arm.
"Tell the guardsmen who are going that they should be prepared to be distractions while the townspeople get into cellars or somewhere underground. They won't kill the dragon, especially not if it is the same one," Ako advised.
Irileth retorted, "Whiterun's guards are the best in Skyrim. They can take care of a dragon."
Ako rolled his eyes. "Not this one, it was bloody invincible. I threw two spears of ice at its head, which should have been enough to take care of pretty much anything in Tamriel. They just shattered against the scales."
As Irileth nodded, and went off to find her guards, Proventus looked at Ako in fear. "What do you mean, if it is the same one? There's more of these horrors?"
Ako nodded gravely. "Quite probably. There's Helgen's dragon, and there's one behind you. I'm sure this is not the last of them," he said, pointing at the skull hanging above the throne.
Proventus's eyes widened in fear, while the Jarl just nodded sagely. "Thank you for bringing this news to me, on your own initiative. I am glad to have someone like you as Arch-Mage."
"I am honoured to have your esteem, my Jarl," Ako replied.
Standing up, Balgruuf said, "There is another thing you can help with, if you're willing. Come, let's find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into these… rumours of dragons."
At hearing the name, Ako's ears perked up. "Farengar? So this is where he ended up. Interesting."
"You know him?" the Jarl asked.
"Yes, he enrolled in the College when I was a senior student, about a year before I became Arch-Mage. He left during my second year in the position. I don't think he remembers me, he was a diligent student, so we didn't talk a lot. Less after I became Arch-Mage." Snorting, Ako added, "I remember sitting in the library on occasion, and eavesdropping on some of the younger students. A common sentiment amongst them was that Farengar was, and I quote, 'A cocky, arrogant bastard.' From what I know, that was an accurate description."
The Jarl laughed at Ako's words, and replied, "He hasn't changed much."
Walking into the laboratory on the east of the dining hall, the Jarl spoke. "Farengar! I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead, fill him in with all the details."
Farengar was a relatively young Nord, in his late twenties, wearing a hooded blue robe, with arcane sigils decorating it. An enchanting table stood next to an alchemical lab, various apparatuses lying scattered around in a mess. A large map of Skyrim took up half of one wall. Two doors were at the back of the room, the open one leading to a small library.
The court mage was hunched over the cluttered desk Ako had seen earlier, scribbling notes with a few books lying open. He spoke without looking up from his work. "So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use. Yes, I could use someone to fetch me an artefact. Well, it may or may not be in an ancient ruin not far from here. I would get it myself, but that's a job for a brute like yourself, not a court mage."
The Jarl and Ako both burst into laughter. Ako chuckled, "Oh my, even worse than I remember. I didn't know you added 'condescending' to your traits as well. And then the students wonder why the Nords don't like mages."
Farengar finally looked up from his work, glaring in annoyance at the Khajiit who had insulted him. His eyes went wide as he took in the Arch-Mage's robes and stuttered an apology, "Arch-Mage?! M-my apologies, sir, I didn't think…. I didn't mean…"
"Save it. I don't have time for bootlickers," Ako snapped in a cold tone. "Despite your total failure in character, you are a good researcher, so I will still help. What can you tell me about dragons? I haven't been at the College in 3 months, so your research would be a good place to start."
The Jarl chuckled at Farengar's predicament, and turned to Ako as the court mage scurried around, grabbing papers and trying to gather his flustered thoughts back into a coherent pattern. "Anything you can dig up that could help us, is a priority now. Thank you, Arch-Mage, Whiterun will be in your debt."
Ako smiled. "Not to worry. Anything that nearly kills me will have my attention. And please, Jarl Balgruuf, call me Ako."
As the Jarl left, Farengar started explaining what he managed to dig up on dragons. "I don't have much. As far as I can tell, the Nords of old, as they came to Tamriel from Atmora, brought their religion along. This revolved around the worship of symbolic creatures, embodying certain traits such as wisdom or compassion. Chief amongst these was the dragon and its strength. Somewhere along the line, the actual dragons were placed into the pantheon, and they were worshipped as gods.
"However, the dragon cult ruled with an unmatched cruelty, and as such the ancient Nords rebelled. Somehow they managed to win the Dragon War, and most dragons were hunted down. A few survived into the early third Era, but they were thought extinct until now. I assume you have read the Enchanting work, 'Twin Secrets'? Anyway, that is about it. I have it on good authority that an ancient map of dragon burial sites is interred in a nearby barrow, which should prove a good lead. I have asked the Jarl to be on the lookout for a mercenary to fetch it."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Ako looked at Farengar in contempt. "Really? You were trained at the college, and you can't handle a simple dungeon run? I'm tempted to call you a worthless paper pusher."
"I'll have you know the Jarl himself suggested I get a mercenary," Farengar retorted.
Ako chuckled mirthlessly. "And you never even considered being less of a milk drinker. I'll get it, I haven't done a dungeon run in ages. It will be good to practice my magic on something other than weak-willed bandits. So where is it?"
Farengar looked highly embarrassed by this point and mumbled, "Bleak Falls Barrow. South of here."
"Right. Paper and charcoal please, as large a roll as possible. If the ruin is anything like those I've seen before, then there will be stuff I want to make rubbings of," Ako asked.
Farengar scrambled to comply with his request. Ako left without further words, leaving the court mage to stew in his own incompetence. Seeing Ako enter the great hall, the Jarl called to him. "Ako, my friend. What have you found out?"
Ako sighed heavily. "Little and less. All we know is that dragons were supposed to be extinct and now they're not. Your paper pusher of a court mage found a lead though. I leave in the morning to follow up on it. I have a favour to ask of you, my Jarl."
Balgruuf looked intrigued, leaning forward. "Ask away."
Ako nodded his thanks. "If anyone in your hold displays magical talent, I ask that you encourage them to join the college. I have a feeling that Skyrim can do with a lot more mages and people with healing abilities. Especially if the dragons have returned for good."
Balgruuf answered in agreement, "That is a sensible request. I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, my Jarl. I'll keep an eye out for a more competent court mage for you. I'm of the opinion that a paper pusher is not suited for the position in times such as this," Ako finished. "I'll be back once I sought out Farengar's lead. By your leave, my Jarl."
"Gods guide you, Ako," the Jarl said in farewell.
AN: And the story progresses, albeit slowly. The entire scene with the Companions was completely unplanned and just spilled out like skeletons in a broom closet. And like said skeletons, the ramifications of it haven't ended 7 chapters later. The story would have been completed by now if it weren't for these skeletons - there are more waiting. And I only know of those that popped out by now. Again, many thanks to empire1003 for her help in proofreading these first few chapters. Hope you enjoy, don't be afraid to tell me what you thought, enjoyed, and dislike.