I decided to write part of the chapter from Ulfric's POV and uh... there was an attempt? IDK man. Mostly details the Blood on the Ice quest. Also it only took me like7 months to get this update out, we're making progress wooooo

Ulfric

The knowledge of the war grinding to a standstill and the ramifications which were soon to follow weighed heavy on his mind. He knew what they needed to turn the stalemate in their favor, but the Dragonborn seemed content with Balgruuf's fence sitting. The Thane of Whiterun had locked herself up in the town after defeating the world eater and not a word had been breathed of the cloaked figure since. Forcing Balgruuf to pick a side would be tricky- the Dragonborn held sway over her Jarl and was deeply protective of her town and the respective hold.

Neither he nor Tullius had made any effort to draw her out. The woman, though fair in her terms of handling the truce itself, had been temperamental about the whole ordeal. She'd been the picture of calm and tranquility as she threatened to raze the offender to the ground if either of them broke the truce before she finished her mission and that no one was to so much as look at Whiterun or Balgruuf in her absence.

Now here they were, circling the wagon and trying to get the upper hand. Whiterun held the key to the war but apparently neither Stormcloak nor Imperial were willing yet to take that risk. Should the Dragonborn react volatility to an attempt to claim the town, it could give the opposition the edge they needed to win the war.

It would help if anyone knew a damn thing about her- knew what made her tick. Everyone in Skyrim knew who she was and what she'd done, but no one knew anything about her personally. Not even the citizens of Whiterun- she'd gone from unnoticed to Thane overnight and her discovery of being the Dragonborn followed not long after. False names in various holds, all leading to dead ends. Those in the city simply referred to her as "Thane" or "Dragonborn". Finding the insufferable woman's name was like pulling teeth as virtually no one seemed to know it.

The fact that he'd been awoken with news of yet another murder in the night did nothing to lighten his mood. He simply didn't have the manpower to pull away for an investigation, but something had to be done about a serial killer.

No sooner than that musing crossed his mind did the doors to the Palace of the Kings open, bringing a cold breeze and a blonde woman. Not immediately recognizing her, he watched with curiosity. Someone come to bid an audience with him? She wasn't one of his soldiers and the rest of his staff was so routine that unless she was a brand new hire he'd know her face immediately. He was fairly certain she wasn't one of his citizens, either- at least not in the city. He was less familiar with the names and faces of those within the hold who did not frequent the city.

The stranger garnered the attention of everyone in the room though the inhabitants knew better than to outright stare at her. Novelty and whatnot. A stranger would always warrant a closer eye. She beelined to the closest guard, speaking in a low voice. The other woman gestured towards the Jarl, or so it seemed to him. The new arrival spoke again before leaving the guard as she nodded in affirmation and made her way towards the would-be king. The trio, who had been having a conversation amongst themselves, fell silent as she approached.

As she got closer Ulfric could see her better. Something about this woman was familiar to him but for the life of him he could not place her. She looked like any number of other Nordic women in Skyrim and yet he couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen her specifically before. Galmar shifted beside him, ready to intercede their guest who quickened her way up the steps in a rather bold motion.

"Only the foolish or the courageous approach a Jarl without summons... do I know you?"

She looked startled that he'd addressed her, stopping short and looking at him. Her attention had been locked onto Jorlief and his words had clearly pulled her out of whatever headspace she'd been in.

"I was at Helgen, Jarl." The woman's answer was simple, immediately jogging his memory. No wonder she looked familiar- she'd been the one tossed unconscious into the back of the cart when he'd been ambushed. That was almost two years ago, though.

"Ah, yes... destined for the chopping block if I'm not mistaken."

"For a crime I didn't commit." The defensive set to her shoulders betrayed the tension she was so desperately trying to hide. Obviously he'd hit a nerve, but she knew well enough to keep her tongue. He couldn't remember what they'd claimed her crime was. There'd been the horse thief, felled by the Imperial archers. His fellow soldiers. She hadn't been on the list- he remembered that quite clearly from when he'd been led towards Tullius. Yet those yellow bellied Imperials had ushered her on anyway.

"The Empire does seem to have a habit of branding villains." His tone was even, watching her fidget with her gaze for a moment. She seemed to be preparing herself for something- Galmar was practically vibrating beside him.

"That they do. My apologies, Jarl. I didn't intend to take up any of your time. I intended to speak to your steward." With that she stepped off to the side, towards Jorlief.

It took a moment for him to realize that he'd been dismissed. That explained her expression right before she spoke- she had been gearing herself up for how best to diplomatically exit the conversation.

What a strange woman. She'd stepped out of the conversation so neatly that he couldn't reprimand her for outright dismissing him. Her eyes drifted as she spoke to Jorleif quietly, never settling on one thing for too long. Her tone was too low for him to hear exactly what she said, but from his steward's reply she was inquiring as to the murders.

Seemingly having obtained what she came for, the woman was gone a moment later with another gust of wind breezing through the hall.

"What in the oblivion was that about?" Galmar grumbled to Jorleif.

"She has offered to look into the murders. I granted the request seeing how thinly spread we are."

Nothing more was said on the matter, though the woman returned within an hour. Ulfric watched from his throne as she again shot straight towards the steward who had sat at the large table for a bite to eat. The conversation was quick and in a moment the woman disappeared out the door again.

Asta

Tova, though clearly still mourning the loss of her daughter, was willing to do what she could to help catch her killer. Grateful for the key, Asta returned to the house that the blood trail led down, unlocking the door.

Abandoned since the death of its owner, the house was structurally sound but dusty beyond belief. Coughing, she started checking out the building room by room. There wasn't much but what she did find alarmed her. Blood splatters littered the floor, a chest filled with fliers about the butcher.

The house unsettled her. The air was heavy in a way that went beyond mere must. There was an unpleasant scent in the air that was just strong enough to be present but faint enough that she couldn't place it. Poking and prodding, eventually she investigated a dresser. Something bothered her about it, that something proving to be completely founded as it led to a hidden room.

Her breath caught. The pungent stench of decaying flesh and organs filtered through her nose.

She was no stranger to horror and gore. In her time with some of the disturbing things she'd seen, the bones and organs were small potatoes. It wasn't the objects themselves- it was what they represented.

Windhelm didn't have a mindless serial killer. It had a fledgling necromancer.

Exploring the room and combing over the rest of the house, she kept the strange necklace and journals she found, sickened by the contents inside. Whoever wrote this was clearly troubled, mentally. She knew enough of necromancy to know there was no true way to bring back the dead- the closest she'd ever seen someone get was reanimating the corpses of their fallen brethren. That was not the same thing, the body disintegrating into dust after a few moments- or after Asta cut them down a second time. They were mindless. It wasn't the same.

The methodical detailing of Susanna's inevitable death was chilling. The woman had been deliberately singled out. The "recipe" was even more disturbing.

Was this the work of an arrogant madman who thought himself capable of turning back time? Or a distraught individual driven insane by grief? She'd encountered a handful of them. It was almost sad.

She had thought to ask the court mage who all practiced magic. Perhaps he could give her a short list of who in the city might be inclined to perform black magic.

Soon. Asta wasn't inclined to getting goosebumps, as very little rattled her cage now a days, but the word bounced around in her head over and over again. What was soon? The next murder? An attempt at the resurrection? Aedra, Daedra and minor saints- what would happen when he failed the summoning? Best case scenario, nothing. Worst case, a portal to Oblivion was ripped open and some hellish beasts poured from the underworld.

She regarded the necklace, deciding to take Calixto up on his offer to visit with him. Someone who was so acquainted with oddities might know what the necklace was, or at least point her towards who would.

After stopping to ask for directions, she found herself in the house. A deep sense of unease settled in her stomach, much like when she'd been in the house. That unease, she soon found, was from the Daedric artifacts in Calixto's possession. Well that explained that.

Calixto was happy to expand on each item, explaining the story of how he and his now-dead sister acquired it. She'd gently put out feelers, seeing if she'd been claimed by the butcher as well, but he was quick to affirm she'd died of a sudden illness when they settled.

How sad.

Upon being shown the amulet, he was quick to identify the piece as "The Wheelstone", carried by the court mage. Then he offered to pay for it.

"Shouldn't the court mage have it?" she inquired, head tilting.

"Wuunferth? Bah. It's purely ceremonial, and he has no use for it." But it was... still his property? And if this was what Calixto claimed it to be, it could be instrumental in putting away the mage.

The imperial carried on "Besides, I wouldn't want to be the one to give it to him. Gives me the creeps. They say he dabbles in necromancy."

Well then.

"I think I'll hold onto it for the time being- I may need it later. I'll bring it by when I see this through, however."

The look of disappointment on the man's face was reasonable, Asta not paying too much mind to it- he was a collector being denied something he wanted.

She missed the sharpening glare leveled at her back as she made her way back to the Palace of the Kings.

Asta had only gotten a few strides in before being called over by Jorleif, sitting by the tabel near the Jarl and his Housecarl.

"How goes the investigating?"

"I've discovered why the killer was tearing up the bodies, and where he's keeping the remains."

"Oh?" From the expression on his face, he hadn't been expecting her to find something this soon. Then again, the steward was likely unaware that there was a literal trail of blood leading directly to Hjerim.

Right. All of a sudden Asta was annoyed again, having cooled off about the city guards' collective incompetence once she was on the hunt.

"I need to speak with the court mage, immediately. Do you know where I can find him?"

"He'd most likely be in his alchemy room. The man hardly ever leaves it."

"And where would that be?"

Following the given directions, she braced herself. A half insane court mage who practiced necromancy was a fight waiting to happen, and one she was confident she would win but it wouldn't be an easy one.

With how suspicious the Stormcloaks seemed to be of magic, she was surprised there even was a court mage- he must be incredibly powerful.

Knocking on the door, she opened it as he bade her to enter.

Not even looking up from his current project, the court wizard proclaimed rather confidentially "Whatever you've heard I can do is probably true."

"I've heard you dabble in necromancy." The words were out of her mouth as she took in the surroundings, but immediately something felt wrong.

The hidden room in Hjerim had been sloppy and disorganized- this space was far more meticulously organized, and with the age of the mage standing in front of her, she doubted he qualified as a novice in anything. Even if necromancy was a new endeavor for the man, it wouldn't manifest itself like it had in the hidden room.

That got his attention. Wuunferth's head snapped to look at her, the indignation clear on his face, "I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't stutter." Holding her ground, Asta decided to feel the situation out- either one of two things would happen. The mage wasn't the person committing the murders, in which case he might be able to help her. If he was the Butcher, he'd likely turn volatile and a fight would ensue. She was ready for either but had a sinking suspicion it would be the former as opposed to the latter. But Calixto had specifically pointed out the amulet...

"Necromancy? I am a member of the College of Winterhold, in good standing! They haven't allowed necromancy for hundreds of years," the mage defended.

"I found journals and your amulet at the location of the Butcher's alter," Asta countered.

"My what, now? I've never kept a journal, I can assure you." This was... strange. What the hell was going on?

"And your amulet just happened to get there... how?"

"What does this amulet look like?"

Fishing it from her pocket, Asta's fingers were wrapped around the clasp, the pendant hanging down. Eight sided, jade, ringed with ebony, the worn carving reflecting in the candlelight.

"I know that amulet well- the carving would have depicted a skull. It is the necromancer's amulet. It appears you were at least half-right. There is necromancy at the heart of this."

"Calixto must have been wrong then. He was very adamant this was your "Wheelstone"."

"My what?" He seemed genuinely confused on what a "Wheelstone" was. "Eh... Calixto and his books are often confused about such matters. It happens to the best of us."

That unease continued to twist in her gut. Either Calixto or Wuunferth was lying.

"So what do we do now?" Perhaps Wuunferth would know where to go next. She wasn't sure who to trust, but at this point she was just gathering information to sort out.

"Do you have the journals?"

Nodding, she rifled them out of her pack before handing them over. The pair sat in silence, as he reviewed the contents scrawled inside.

"I've been noting a pattern to when the killings happen. Now that we know they're tied in to some sort of necromantic ritual, I think I know when the next might occur. Let's see- From a Loredas of Last Seed until a Middas of Hearthfire... it will happen soon. Very soon."

"How soon?"

"Keep watch in the Stone Quarter tomorrow night. That's almost certainly where the killer will strike next."

Nodding, Asta took the journals back and deposited them in her pack. Pausing at the threshold she turned back towards the court mage.

"Thank you, for helping me. Even with the accusation of necromancy." She still wasn't certain, but her gut was telling her the mage wasn't suspect.

There was one easy way to verify the truth- Calixto said the amulet was given from the Jarl to the court mage. The mage said it was a necromancy amulet. Jarl Ulfric would be able to settle this once and for all.

Making her way back to the main room in the Palace, she eyed the Jarl speaking to his housecarl. Debating how best to go about her wording, her silent staring at the pair drew their attention.

Even as she was called over (and responded in kind- Jarls were a tempermental bunch at times and while she wanted to feel out Ulfric, she did not want to earn his ire needlessly), her mind was ticking. Necromancy was a (pardon the pun) grave accusation, and she was trying to figure out how to word it without directing any blow back or suspicions towards the court mage, nor to tip him off should her gut instinct be wrong.

Blindly feeling her way through the social nicities until she could get to what she wanted, Asta decided to simply ask a question. "Does this amulet mean anything to you?"

If Calixto was correct, the jarl would recognize it immediately. Instead, the man looked at her with a mix of curiosity and agitation. Perhaps wondering what she was inquiring over, but put out with a question that was answered by his expression.

"No, I've never seen it before. Should it?" Mean anything to him? No.

Calixto was wrong.

Or lying.

Asta was leaning towards the latter.

The matter would settle itself in due time.