Ako stumbled up the steps inside Dragonsreach, exhausted by the battle with the dragon and subsequent walk back up the hill. Reaching the main floor, he bumped into the back of men standing around the firepit, dressed in finery and having an air of arrogance about them. 'Nobles…' he thought with distaste. He spotted Proventus Avenicci at the front of the group, trying to maintain peace and order. A pair of castle guards stood in near the throne dais, their eyes alert and hands near the hilts of their swords. A big Nord, dressed in scaled armour, was talking to the Jarl.
"Ah, good, you're finally here," the bald Steward of the Jarl said, relief evident in his voice. "The Jarl's been waiting for at least some news to return." Ako forced his way out of the gaggle of nobles that was crowding the beleaguered ruler of Whiterun, leaving Avenicci to deal with them. The nobles started clamouring when his singed fur and robes came to their attention, leaving his head ringing in pain.
"You heard the summons, as we all did. All of Skyrim heard it. What could it mean?" the Jarl asked of the armoured man. The armoured man merely turned to the south, casting his eyes upwards, towards the Throat of the World.
"The Greybeards…" Balgruuf murmured with awe in his voice.
The man in armour noticed the Arch-Mage, and said, "We were just talking about you. My brother needs to speak with you."
The Jarl let out a long sigh, equal parts relief and frustration. "So, what happened at the watchtower? I assume the dragon was there?" he asked, wearily waving towards a particularly scorched sleeve. The Khajiit returned the sigh, tiredly lifting his eyes up, taking care to keep them hidden beneath his hood.
"Indeed. There is a lot to be told," Ako replied, standing tall. "The dragon is dead, after taking the lives of half a dozen men that went along with Irileth, and half the squad stationed at the tower. The tower itself is mostly ruined, and it will take some time to repair. Irileth, Akatosh bless her, came up with a plan that allowed for proper interaction between me and the guards, as well as herself. Thus the dragon was first grounded and then killed."
"I knew I could count on Irileth!" the Jarl exclaimed with pride. A puzzled frown came on his face as he continued, "But there must be more to it, isn't there?"
Ako took a moment to gather his thoughts before he explained the lie meant to keep the attention off of him. "After the dragon's wing was destroyed by my spells, an unknown man clad in steel plate armour appeared from the west. Based on his size, I would have to guess him to be a Nord. As the few remaining guards charged forward, this man joined in, unsheathing a greatsword. The dragon was still stunned by the fall, so the sword through its eye ended it."
The Arch-Mage took a breath before continuing. "As we gathered around the corpse to investigate it, it began to burn up, scales flaking off and turning into flames surrounding the skeleton. These flames then flew towards the Nord, and was somehow… absorbed, is the best description I can think of. Immediately afterwards, the man Shouted just like the Dragon in Helgen did, albeit at best a tickle compared to that dragon collapsing stone castles."
Casting a pointed look towards the nobles beginning to trickle into Dragonsreach, he finished his report, "We left together, hoping to return, but he made his way into the wilds as we neared the city… probably to avoid dealing with politics like this. Asked me to report the developments when I leave for Winterhold again."
Jarl Balgruuf and his brother both looked stunned and thoughtful. The appearance of a Dragonborn would not go unnoticed. And Balgruuf couldn't afford to not take advantage of it. Ako leaned forward, letting his eyes show just the tiniest bit. "As an aside, I would like to talk with you, Jarl Balgruuf, regarding developments of your citizens at the College. As soon as possible, and I don't think the rabble would want to be a part of the discussion."
"But where is he?!" a pudgy Breton nobleman demanded. Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun wore a scowl usually reserved for condemned criminals and Thalmor emissaries as the merchant continued on his rant. It had been nearly 90 minutes since Ako returned to Dragonsreach, and the great palace hadn't had a second of silence.
The rest of the court erupted into incoherent shouting and yelling once again as Ako's headache intensified, a lingering reminder of the exhausting battle fought and its aftermath. Every single politician worthy of the insult was clamouring about the Dragonborn, prophesied as hero. The more scholarly in nature amongst them recognized the winds of change that blew along the life of a Dragonborn. And all of them were worried about what it would mean for their wealth and opulence.
Ako had a quandary on his hands. The time spent returning to Whiterun after he left the Western Watchtower and its new porch decoration was all too little for his taste. As he entered the gates, a soft thundering began in the South, building swiftly to a roaring climax of three syllables: "DOV-AH-KIIN!" His studies of the Dovahzul translated it for him: "Dragonborn."
But that came only afterwards. At that moment the Khajiit felt a tug on his soul, a demand and a challenge wrapped in one, calling him towards Monahven, the Throat of the World. It confirmed his suspicions and dashed his fading hopes that he might not be Dovahkiin. As he resigned himself to being a plaything of fate and prophecy, the other part of him, the part that surfaced after Helgen and Bleak Falls Barrow, was thrilled.
'Of course, it is a just affirmation of mulaagi, my strength ahrk suleyk. Wo else vis be Dovahkiin?' He had taken to referring to the other part of him as the Dov part, which seemed fitting given the recent propensity for the thoughts belonging to it to contain Dovahzul. While the politicians were arguing with each other, he went over the last few months, focusing on events where the Dov part surfaced. The more he looked to his recent history, the more it became clear that he had started showing draconic tendencies and attributes long before he absorbed Mirmulnir's soul.
Another thing the Arch-Mage did was reflect on what he learned from absorbing the soul. He learnt the dragon's name, Mirmulnir, roughly translating to "Strong and Loyal Hunter", but the words felt empty and meaningless when spoken in a mortal tongue. He gained insight into the word and concept of Fus, force. Again, its meaning was much deeper in Dovahzul. But perhaps most importantly, he learned a bit of how a dragon's thoughts worked.
Most of it remained incomprehensible to Ako. At least, to his mortal side. The sheer insignificance that joorre represented to the Dov was quite startling. Another difficulty came with Time, Tiid as the dragons named it. As children of Akatosh and thus Time itself, it passed them by different to how it treated the mortals. There was more to know, but it remained fuzzy and indistinct. Ako tried to grasp the alien notions but failed, like trying to catch smoke on a windy day.
The Dov side of him had been louder and more insistent ever since he returned. For the moment, Ako was content to think of it as his dovahsil, but the questions were still churning. He was stymied as to where to find answers until he overheard Jarl Balgruuf talking to his brother when he returned from the watchtower.
The Greybeards were an ancient monastic order, founded by the Tongue Jurgen Windcaller in the early First Age shortly after the victory of the combined Chimer and Dwemer armies at the Battle of Red Mountain. They were rather secretive, rumoured to be masters of the Thu'um, and quite similar to the Psijic Order. Both groups were said to be powerful, garnering respect from all over Tamriel, and Ako had, in fact, met some of the Psijic Order, and could testify to their power.
Thus it seemed likely that the Arch-Mage's next course of action would be to visit the Greybeards, at their monastery of High Hrothgar near the top of the Throat of the World. Advice on his Dov-side and the like would be helpful if they have served as guides to Dragonborn over the ages. 'When they spoke the World shook. The Tongues of Skyrim told the son of Atmora that he had come to rule…' the Khajiit mused, remembering that it was the Greybeards who set Tiber Septim on his path to ascending Tamriel's throne, or godhood, as some would have it.
But first, he would have to cross the hurdles that politics threw in his way. The Jarl of Whiterun was sufficiently adept at the game of deceit to recognise the reasoning behind his request for a private talk. One hurdle down. The day was stretching long. Logically, he knew even he should be tired after that kind of battle, or travel. Yet it was as if someone had poured fire into his veins, roiling restlessly like ants in an anthill might.
He was brought from his thoughts by the Steward declaring court to be over for the day, sunlight barely touching the ramparts as the nobles began filtering out. Irileth had recently returned, merely agreeing with what the Arch-Mage had reported before she left to get cleaned up. The aristocrats were less than pleased with the short response, most having missed his report to the Jarl.
Hrongar, as he learned was the name of the Jarl's brother, came up to him where he stood in the dark north-western corner of the hall. "The Jarl invites you to dinner out on the Great Porch. It will start in a few minutes if you wish to clean up a bit." Ako nodded his thanks as a servant neared, beckoning him to follow.
It had been a very long and trying day for Balgruuf the Greater, and the end was yet far as he made his way onto the Great Porch of Dragonsreach, looking north-east over the plains and foothills of Shearpoint and Mount Anthor. If the weather was good, one could usually see the Sea of Ghosts at Dawnstar. However, in the late autumn, early winter of Sun's Dusk, dark clouds were hanging on the mountainsides, promising snow and rime for whoever got caught below them, sliding down to the valleys as the moons rose.
Some of the higher clouds were tinged with a fiery orange, dimming to pink as the sun set. A few of the constellations were starting to show in the east. To the west, he could see the haziness caused by the ruin of the watchtower, and his heart clenched as he thought of the many guards lost to the dragon. His pessimistic side was whispering that it could have been much worse if it hadn't been for the Khajiit he was having dinner with. A long table was set up on the very edge of the porch, as was customary when he hosted dignitaries.
Two guards were patrolling the balconies of the roofed part of the porch, while two more were guarding the large double doors that led to the interior of Dragonsreach. His long-serving friend, shield-sister and housecarl, Irileth, was standing near the head of the table. Apparently, it was her tactics that led to the defeat of the great beast at the watchtower, and he was proud of her. The Dunmer had repeatedly sacrificed her time, energy and life to this city. Whiterun. His city. But for how much longer, now that the overtures of war were ringing with his city as the bridge?
As he reached the table, he spotted the Arch-Mage sitting on the railing of the upper balcony, feet dangling over the edge of a long drop. The speed with which he turned to the Jarl was somewhat surprising given the tiring day that the Khajiit must have had. The near-silent drop down to the porch was a testament to his race's natural agility, reminding Balgruuf of the travelling troupes of acrobats he had seen in Cyrodiil.
With a wave of his hand, Jarl Balgruuf invited the Arch-Mage to take a seat at the table. The cooks had provided decently: a stew of leeks, cabbage and beef, served with a rough bread. It was nothing like the food one would find in Solitude, but the Nord had always taken pride in the produce of his hold. The Jarl was surprised to see the Khajiit eat with gusto; having tasted Khajiit cuisine during his Legion service, he did not think the Arch-Mage would enjoy the traditional Nordic fare.
As the meal came to an end (a second helping in the case of the Khajiit), with precious little words exchanged, Jarl Balgruuf felt the area around the table twist and fall silent. A look to the Arch-Mage revealed a soft purple glow fading from his hands. Looking outside the bubble of magic, it looked as if the outside was obscured by ice or water, distorting the image greatly.
"My apologies my Jarl, but I cannot risk anyone learning of what I wish to speak tonight," the cat said, and Balgruuf could hear the earnest honesty behind it.
Balgruuf lifted an eyebrow as he replied, "That may be so, but it would not do for a Jarl to be left completely unattended, with no way to call for help."
The cat nodded in agreement, before he said, "If it would suffice, Irileth may join, seeing as she already knows part of what I wish to speak of."
The Jarl nodded; yes, Irileth would fit perfectly. Everyone but the most die-hard racists in the city trusted her, and he personally trusted her unconditionally. Half of the silencing field dissipated with a wave of the Arch-Mage's hand, allowing the Jarl to call Irileth closer. She hurried in and stood near the Jarl as the magic field rippled back to cover the table entirely.
The Khajiit took a deep breath as he started the discussion, his voice low and quick. "Forgive me for being blunt, my Jarl. I was not entirely honest when I gave my report of the battle this afternoon. I simply could not afford to tell the full truth in front of the rabble. It would be terribly naïve to assume that your court is devoid of spies for the Empire, the Thalmor or Stormcloaks or even all three major factions. Hence my precautions now," he indicated the magic shield with a wave.
Balgruuf noted that the Arch-Mage kept a hand close to his mouth at all times. If he didn't even trust his magic to keep the contents of this meeting secret, then it must be a secret of truly great importance, or the Arch-Mage was extremely paranoid. Given what he knew of the man, Balgruuf was inclined to believe the former. The Jarl cautiously asked, "If that is the case, then what of the report was true?"
Again the Khajiit took a breath as he answered, "To recap: Yes, Irileth was responsible for the plan. Yes, I brought it down with spells. Yes, the dragon was killed by a sword through the eye. Yes, the killer turned out to be Dragonborn. Yes, said Dovahkiin Shouted. But… No, the Dragonborn was no mysterious Nord appearing out of nowhere. Irileth agreed with my story on the request of the real Dragonborn, who was and still is of the opinion that exposing his identity would be severely detrimental to both his personal health and the safety of Skyrim as a whole."
The Jarl of Whiterun had lived a long life, and seen many surprises. But listening to the Arch-Mage telling his tale, leaving him to connect the dots was in a class of its own. With eyes blown wide open and a faint feeling throughout his body, he stammered, "I-it's you? By the gods…." Balgruuf turned to Irileth, shocked. "Is he telling the truth Irileth? Is he Dragonborn?"
The Dunmer's eyes seemed to dim a bit, glaze over very slightly as she replied with absolute conviction, "No. The Arch-Mage is not the Dragonborn. A big Nord that left with the Arch-Mage is the Dragonborn." Balgruuf had known Irileth as a close friend for over 3 decades, and only their longstanding friendship clued him in that something was wrong. It was confirmed by the Khajiit's startled choke on his glass of water.
In a voice filled with confusion, the cat interjected, "What? But you can tell him, he knows. He knows I'm the Dragonborn."
Irileth only repeated what she said before, "No. The Arch-Mage is not the Dragonborn. A big Nord that left with the Arch-Mage is the Dragonborn."
A burning rage overtook the Jarl as he saw his closest friend and confidante somehow being controlled by the Arch-Mage. He swung his head towards the cat so fast he thought he might injure his neck, rising up from his chair, "What did you do to her? Release her!"
Ako was beyond horrified. Somehow he placed a geas on Irileth, and presumably the other survivors of the Watchtower. Now he had an angry Jarl of Whiterun to deal with, and his Dov-side taking offence at the Nord in turn.
'Puny mun jun, you are not bonaar to show rahgol wah dov!' With some effort, the Arch-Mage managed to push down those thoughts to focus on his current predicament. Taking a deep breath, he answered the Jarl, whose hand was hanging on his war-axe at his side, ready to pull it free from its holster. "My Jarl, I swear I did nothing intentionally. If you would permit me to investigate the compulsion that I seemed to have inadvertently placed on her, I will do all I can to remove it post-haste."
Jarl Balgruuf seemed somewhat mollified by his words and silently nodded his assent. Ako stood up and moved closer to Irileth. As he moved closer, hands preparing scrying and dispelling spells, something seemed to change in the Dark Elf. She shook her head slightly, before she glared at the Khajiit, voice full of contempt, "And just what do you think you're doing, cat?"
The Jarl immediately perked up as his housecarl appeared to be back to normal. Ako remained cautious but took a few steps back as Balgruuf spoke with her. "You seemed a bit out of it, and I was concerned. What do you remember?"
Irileth replied, somewhat confused, "The Arch-Mage went over the battle with the dragon and the reveal of the Dragonborn. Why? Is something wrong?"
A knot of unease formed in Ako's stomach as the Jarl went on in a relieved tone. "No, thank Talos. Well then, does he speak the truth?" with a wave towards the Arch-Mage, "Is he Dragonborn?"
The sinking feeling hit bottom as the Khajiit saw Irileth's eyes once again dim and glaze over. "No. The Arch-Mage is not the Dragonborn. A big Nord that left with the Arch-Mage is the Dragonborn."
Ako started pacing up and down in distress, muttering softly to himself, "No no no no damn it!" He took a few deep breaths to calm down before looking towards the Jarl of Whiterun. He shuddered slightly as he saw Balgruuf's glare; if looks could kill, Ako would be 6 feet under in a variety of extremely painful and creative ways. He stepped up to the Dunmer and cast a scrying spell designed to reveal active magics.
Nothing. He had planned to dispel whatever control he might have had once he knew what it was, but if there was no magicka involved, he was helpless. Pondering what the compulsion might be, he failed to notice Irileth recover, blinking rapidly as if she was waking up from a deep sleep. As soon as she felt the Arch-Mage's hand on her shoulder, she reacted. Sweeping her foot back behind those of the Khajiit, she sent an elbow into his throat swiftly followed by a punch to the gut.
Within seconds Ako found himself looking at the cloudy sky, his Dov-side snarling in anger yet with grudging respect for the Dunmer's battle prowess. Her sword was pointed at the Arch-Mage's neck, ready to remove it if he moved even an inch. With a small chuckle and a sigh to calm his nerves, he said, "I suppose I deserved that." He had several ways to escape the threat of her sword, but given the happenings of the last few minutes, he was unwilling to further antagonise the Jarl and his housecarl.
With a small smirk, the Jarl said, "Irileth. Let him speak. You can beat him to a pulp afterwards." Irileth was still bristling with anger, but she half-sheathed her sword and pulled the Khajiit roughly to his feet. Ako cast a small healing spell to remove the bruises he felt forming, clearing the throbbing of his head after the unceremonious dump onto the hard stone floor. He made sure his hood was still pulled down low, hiding his eyes. Jarl Balgruuf was still glaring at him, but not quite as vehemently as before.
With a troubled voice he spoke, "My Jarl, I offer my deepest apologies. I can't do scat about this control. It is as if it does not exist, no magical signature whatsoever. I have had previous experience with detecting, diagnosing, and dispelling magical control. But this geas is entirely invisible. I can't deny that it exists, just that no classical mage will detect it." Ako shook his head sadly. "I am sorry that this is the case. I am quite sure that I am responsible, but I have no idea what I did. I will be researching as much as I can to remove it as soon as possible."
"The good news is that her personality is intact. It seems the compulsion is conditional; only if she is asked about my identity as Dragonborn will it take effect." The Jarl nodded slowly, as if he realised the truth in Ako's words. Irileth on the other hand just looked confused.
With a puzzled look, she asked Balgruuf, "My Jarl? What is the cat talking about?"
The Nord sighed deeply before he replied, "Irileth, from what we can determine, he has placed you under some kind of mind control whenever you are asked about who the Dragonborn is. However, -"
He was interrupted by Ako's yelp as he sidestepped the Dark Elf's enraged swing, her eyes blazing as she aimed to shred the Arch-Mage. Absently, Ako mused that it was a wonder that his muffling spell still held. The comedic value of the happenings inside it was surely of great interest to the guards standing around the porch. Ako prepared defensive spells that would allow him to survive unscathed, but the Jarl saved him the trouble.
"Enough! Irileth, stand down!" The housecarl reluctantly sheathed her sword. She took a few steps back and looked ready to rail verbally, but the Jarl pre-empted her arguments. "He did it inadvertently and has shown to be sorry about it. I'm not happy in the least, but he promised to remove it as soon as he can."
Ako saw this as an opportunity to make up for the mind control. In as honest a voice as he could manage, he said, "To make up for the grievous desecration of your sovereignty, I offer to you a favour. Whatever you want, whenever you want, I will do my utmost to grant it. I suspect that all of the guards that were with you suffer from the same compulsion, and thus I offer this to each of them as well."
The Dunmer replied with venom in her voice, "That's it? You subvert our minds and think a bribe patches it all up? You haven't even removed it yet!"
Ako replied gently, having to take a few moments to shove his Dov-side down again, anger at having his honour questioned. "Definitely not. But allow me to make it up somehow. I truly did not mean for any of this to happen. As soon as I can remove it, I will do it immediately."
"Fine! But don't bother with petty promises. If you are serious about this, give my favour to Whiterun and its Jarl."
"As you wish." Ako nodded once before turning to Balgruuf and asking, "My Jarl, what does Whiterun and its Jarl want and/or need? If it is within my abilities, I will grant it immediately. Otherwise, I will find a way to bring it within my abilities."
The Jarl of Whiterun looked thoughtful before a smile spread across his face. "Anything, you say? Well, if your initial words were anything to go by, then there is something to help both you and me a lot…"
Five minutes later, the bubble of silencing magic and its occupants moved inside to Dragonsreach's strategy room. On the table lay a map of Skyrim, marked with the major strongholds and outposts of the Empire and Stormcloaks both. In the centre of the map, as it is in the centre of Skyrim, lay Whiterun Hold. Strategic in position, rich in trading and goods produced, it served as pivot for the entire war. Whoever was in charge of it was likely to control the flow of goods, men and gold. And in a treacherous land such as Skyrim, that determined victory more than anything.
Balgruuf started off discussions after the Arch-Mage and his housecarl both found a seat (far away from each other, he noted with slight amusement) at his war table. "As I'm sure you're aware, Arch-Mage, the Dragonborn is a very notable figure in Skyrim's tales and lore. All of Skyrim would have heard the Greybeards' summons."
"And everyone with an interest in her future would recognize the significance of it," the Arch-Mage finished. Balgruuf found the Khajiit to be quite an intriguing character; he appeared to genuinely care for Skyrim and its future, as well as the health of her inhabitants. He seemed to be mortified when it was revealed he had Irileth under a magical compulsion, and remorseful. Then again he had the cocky, self-assured attitude that many mages had, albeit with more right to it than most.
"Indeed. Now, onto the war. As you correctly pointed out earlier, my court is probably rife with spies on all sides. I'm sure you can appreciate what strategic value Whiterun holds. Both the Empire and Ulfric's upstart Stormcloaks have tried to court me, get me to declare for one side or the other. I have steadfastly refused, preferring to keep my people out of a senseless war. But as their demands have grown more vehement, I fear they might attack my city regardless of nonalignment, Ulfric in particular."
The Arch-Mage appeared thoughtful, slowly nodding along as Balgruuf finished. "So, if the Dragonborn was to side with me and Whiterun's neutrality…"
"...then it would force both Ulfric and the Empire to back off, at least until they grow more desperate… And in that time you can consolidate your neutrality, perhaps get some more allies, no?" the Khajiit seamlessly finished. "Very well, I shall add the support of the Dragonborn to your cause." Looking towards Irileth, the cat asked, "Will that make us even, along with the removal of the geas? Is it sufficient repayment?" Irileth just nodded, but Balgruuf could see gratitude hiding behind her scowl. Balgruuf was impressed by the adept mind the Arch-Mage had. It had been a while since he spoke with someone that could infer his thoughts so rapidly.
"Exactly," the Jarl replied. "Ulfric would never acknowledge a Dragonborn who isn't a Nord, so obviously you can't take on the role as yourself. Many Nords on both sides of the war will share his views. Do you have any ideas as to how to circumvent this?"
The Khajiit remained silent for a few moments before he answered, "I think I can make it work. But I will need a bit of time to ponder what will be within the realm of possibility for me. Moving on, say we have a Nord or something that looks like a Nord to present as Dragonborn. What will you do then?"
Balgruuf was somewhat surprised at the question. "What do you mean? You said you'd give the Dragonborn's support. What else is there to do but for a public pledge of some kind?"
The Arch-Mage shook his head. "No, my Jarl. It would be suspicious if the Dragonborn were to pledge himself to your cause without you giving something in return, like a title or land. Spec-"
"You bastard!" Irileth interjected. "What more do you want? The throne itself?!" She was rising up from her chair, hand again going to her sword. The Jarl noticed the Khajiit flinch slightly at his housecarl's words.
"Irileth." The livid Dunmer calmed down slightly at her liege lord's word, but still looked ready to skin the cat. "Let him speak."
The Khajiit continued, a grateful tone to his voice before he switched to an educational tone, "Thank you Jarl Balgruuf. As I was saying, if the Dragonborn pledges fealty to you without a reason, it would be logical to assume that he had prior loyalty to either you or Whiterun. That is knowledge, information which can be used to track down the Dragonborn's identity. Only thing is, there would be no identity to find since there are no drastic changes to Whiterun's population, no missing men. Those who would prove a danger to Whiterun will take note of this, and will use it to decrease your credibility, claiming lies. Thus it will be even easier for the Stormcloaks or Thalmor to instigate divides amongst the populace."
Balgruuf was forced into contemplation at the Arch-Mage's words, while Irileth seemed to have calmed down a touch. "How do you know?" the Dark Elf broke the thoughtful silence.
The Khajiit shrugged. "It's how I would've known, had I not been Dragonborn and wanted to find him." He must have seen the eyebrow that Whiterun's ruler raised at his statement when he elaborated, "Hunting down an elusive person is not that different from hunting down lost artefacts or stolen books or something similar. I've had to do that often enough to know how it works."
The Jarl nodded thoughtfully. "So, I have to give something to our fictional Dragonborn. If I declare him a Thane of Whiterun, he would be bound or be perceived as bound to Whiterun and its defence. That would satisfy most suspicions. However, that does not solve the problem of actually having a Dragonborn." He looked to the Arch-Mage before he continued, "I trust you have by now thought of a solution?"
The Khajiit had a grin on his face, mirth thick in his voice when he replied, "Of course. Do you have an unused set of steel plate armour? Old and worn preferably, otherwise I will need to fake it." Balgruuf looked over to Irileth, somewhat confused by the Arch-Mage's request, who watched over the armoury as part of her duties, who nodded. The Arch-Mage positively purred, "Excellent. Now, here's what we will do…"
As the sun rose the next morning, Ako found himself standing at the Skyforge, again admiring the beauty of Whiterun's plains as Shearpoint cast long shadows over the golden grass. Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs behind him, he turned to find Eorlund Gray-Mane standing there, clad in his usual hide armour. A thin cloak was added to the ensemble, presumably to ward off the early morning chill before the heat of the forge negated it.
"Master Gray-Mane, a good morning to you," he greeted pleasantly.
A gruff "Arch-Mage" was the only response, but it was not malicious in nature, rather a characteristic of the blacksmith's personality.
"My apologies for not arriving yesterday to start on my staff, but as I'm sure you've heard, fighting a dragon tires one out."
A noncommittal grunt in reply made the Khajiit snort in amusement. The Nord asked, "I see you have your materials there, and I won't presume to know anything about staffmaking. Is there something else you need?"
Ako had redesigned his plans for the staff during the night. If he was to face dragons on a more regular basis, the basic staff would not be sufficient. "If I may be as bold as to ask for your help and expertise on this matter, it would be much appreciated. I wish to add a blade and a hammer to the ends of the staff. I am willing to pay well if you could make those ends for me."
The old smith looked intrigued, and Ako dug out his journal where he had his designs. "Basically, it is a glaive and a warhammer combined in the middle. I planned to have the blade made from ebony and the hammer from malachite, to make it easier to balance out the staff's weight."
Eorlund looked over the designs with a keen eye, his experience clearly visible to Ako. He looked up to the Khajiit with the smallest of smiles on his face. "I don't know 'bout any of these fanciful stuff in the middle, but the rest seems solid. I'll make your endpieces. I haven't worked with either material in a while, but I remember their tricks well."
The Arch-Mage thanked him profusely before they both set to work. Ako stripped himself of most of his clothing, keeping only a loincloth and his robe folded across his shoulders like a blanket, hood firmly in place. He took up a seat on the edge of the forge, mere feet away from the molten rock. On his left, he had a dozen strong magicka potions, while on his right he had several ingots of malachite and darkest ebony. In his lap, to serve as central focus and core of the staff, he had the special soul gem meant to extend the staff's lifespan. It had cost considerable gold to procure the resources, but the Khajiit was confident that it would be more than worth it.
Ako cast a long-lasting spell on his arms and hands to resist intense fire and heat from all sources. He used telekinesis spells to dip an ingot into the magma, keeping it together until it was just a molten blob. Finally, he used fire spells to keep the heat high as he began to mould the staff with his bare hands, starting with the central pole.
Dawn was not far off, and Ako was still busy with his staff. Eorlund Gray-Mane had finished the hammer end early in the afternoon, followed by the ebony blade at midnight, and the Arch-Mage was about to attach them. He had only one magicka potion left, having used the rest to keep casting away and avoid injuries. Once the endpoints were attached, he wanted to weave some spells into the staff, preservation spells derived from those found in Nordic ruins.
The Skyforge's magic had pulsed regularly during the day, and Ako could feel the metals being affected, strengthening and hardening. During the night the pulses had all but disappeared, and the Khajiit slowed down his work as much as he could to again take advantage of the improvement daylight supplied to the Skyforge. When the sun crested Shearpoint, he started carving the runic spells neatly with a single claw.
Most of the runes would be covered beneath the leather handle he would place once finished, but it wouldn't affect their effectiveness. Once again he could feel how the Skyforge's timeless magic enhanced his spells. His Dov-side was quiet most of the night, only a vague feeling of satisfaction at getting a new weapon.
Roughly an hour after the sun rose, Ako was finished. Eorlund had arrived earlier, and surprisingly, the Harbinger was not far behind him. Both Nords were openly gaping at the staff that stood upright against the forge. The staff was, without doubt, one of the finest weapons he ever saw, and perhaps even the finest mortal weapon he wielded. It couldn't compare to the sheer perfection divine weapons such as the Staff of Magnus had, but it was close as a mortal could get.
Standing a full head taller than the Arch-Mage, bladed end pointing skywards like a sliver of midnight, it demanded attention. With the other end being a relatively large hammer and a bladed spike balancing each other, the staff would be sufficient for nearly any opponent regardless of apparel.
The central two feet of the staff was covered in leather to serve as a handle, adorned with traditional Khajiit motifs. But that was bound to be ignored given the decorations on the rest of the staff. With a foot-long blade on one end, there was still another foot of the staff left between handle and blade. 4 thickish strips of malachite was sent curling around the staff, thinner strips of ebony winding between them. Sharp little thorns, modelled after those of a rose, covered the strips. After half a foot of twisting the strips flared like flames, giving the appearance of the blade emerging from a green flare as the ebony moved below the malachite. The flames were mirrored on the hammered side, every protrusion ensuring that the staff could only be held by the handle.
"Now that is a quality weapon," said the Harbinger. The blacksmith nodded in agreement. "May I?" asked Kodlak, hand held out towards the staff. Ako nodded, pride stirring at having his work praised like that by two masters of weaponry.
Kodlak ran his hands over the business ends of the staff, then twirling it around a bit. Ako recognised some combat stances from what he saw of the Companions' training and idly wondered whether or not he should perhaps ask for instruction. "So light… And perfectly balanced." the Harbinger murmured, a reverent look on his face. "Do these," pointing to the flares on either side, "serve any purpose, or is it merely decorative?" the Nord asked.
"It serves a dual purpose. Firstly, the flares pointing in the same direction serve as foci for my spells." Confusion was evident on the Companion's face to prompt the Arch-Mage to explain. "Mages generally cast spells using their hands and fingers as foci, since it makes it easier to control both the direction and power for a spell. So these flares make it easier to ensure that if I were to cast a fireball, it only heads in the direction I want and not blow up along the entire staff. I put in some internal conduits, to add to that effect for a total of three layers of foci. With this, I have control like few mages ever achieve. Secondly, I assumed you noticed the little thorns?"
The Harbinger nodded, seemingly fascinated by the strange addition to the weapon. Ako continued, "Well, melee combat is a weakness of mine. I dislike it, and since I'm not armoured, I am always at a disadvantage. I can generally avoid it, and even if I end up in a situation, this staff means I can keep opponents at bay with its length. Now, say I have a pole weapon and you need to disarm me. It seems logical to me that the handle, long as it is, is a good place to grab. Should the opponent succeed in grabbing, whoever has the greater physical strength will win. And I am willing to bet it won't be me who wins."
Kodlak chuckled slightly at the Arch-Mage's self-deprecating humour and motioned for him to continue. "So, I devised something to prevent it. Those thorns are quite sharp, and hard enough to punch through light armour if I were to swing it into someone's hands. Most bandits and the like wear only bracers, no gauntlets. Anyone willing to grab it must also be willing to have their fingers shredded."
Both Nords nodded their heads in agreement and appreciation for the Khajiit's logic. "Astute observations Arch-Mage. Does the staff have a name? Surely such a beautiful weapon deserves one."
Ako had a thoughtful look as he answered, "Not yet, but it sounds like a good plan. My deepest thanks Harbinger, Master Smith, for the use of the Skyforge. If there is ever something I can assist either of you with, please, do not hesitate to ask."
Kodlak answered with "It's a pleasure," while Eorlund grunted in his usual fashion.
Having completed the original reason for visiting Whiterun, Ako was ready to leave. His Dov-side had been mostly quiet, and he couldn't fathom why. It was of concern to him, but he couldn't dwell on it. Ako still had a final round of politics to play before he left. He and the Jarl had worked out what seemed to be a solid plan, but no plan survives first contact. He could only hope his anonymity remained intact before chaos engulfed the province.
AN: I enjoyed writing this chapter. Hopefully the quality continues – this is the first chapter that did not undergo a deep scouring by the gentle hands of empire1003. I've given it as thorough a proofread as a primary author can, so when you see errors, please let me know. If you are interested in being a beta reader (correct spelling if you see, but more providing feedback on the story and characters rather than just proofreading), please do not hesitate to contact me. Translations for the dovahzul is below. If you enjoyed (or not enjoyed), as the case might be, please let me know what you feel can improve, I'm always happy to improve my writing. Lastly, my buffer has emptied at a rapid rate – I have only chapter 8 left and chapter 9 is written halfway. Hopefully that will improve rapidly – I've been struggling with Chapter 9 for... I don't know exactly how long, but well upwards of a year and a half. So to get back to the point, I will generally not post until I have at least the next chapter ready, lessening the amount of retconning I have to do. Thus, chapter 8 may or may not come out next Wednesday, depends how much work I end up with between my life as a postgrad student and work. Thanks for reading!
Oh yes, I may have an image (of sorts) coming for the staff – just need to kick my brother the architect a few more times. He's been kicked many times after his initial promise 3 years ago, and last I saw, he was in the fiddly stage – basics done, but now fiddling about to get it right. So hopefully I can show the image soon.