Lydia and Vilkas followed behind me as we approached the Palace of Kings, talking to each other quietly. We began climbing the steps, and we soon realized that security had changed an incredible amount in the time we'd been away. As we reached the top step, more guards approached than I could count on one hand.

I was glad we'd come 'in costume', as Lydia called it. Mine was simply a helmet that had become the 'Dragonborn' symbol across the country. Though it was rather charred from dragon breath and smelled like booze and death, it fit comfortably over the top half of my face. Lyd's costume wasn't any sort of apparel, just a stern look and stiff shoulders. Vil…well, he was still in his wolf armor, but I could make something up.

The guards rushed toward us pretty quickly, hand on weapons that were strapped to their hips. One stepped ahead of the bunch. "Hold there, citizen."

I raised my hands in innocent defense, a sly smirk on my face. "Woah, woah, boys. 'Citizen'?" I used my obnoxious Dragonborn voice that Lydia hated.

The guards relaxed. "Apologies, Dragonborn. The Jarl has ordered for security to be doubled, with the war advances. Worried some Imperials might get funny ideas and attack in the night." Honestly, I had no idea which one was talking under the ugly-ass helmets. I just laughed as loud as I could and nodded to all of them.

A different voice spoke in the bunch. "Inform the Jarl that the Dragonborn, his housecarl, and…" I couldn't tell for sure, but I was pretty sure they meant Vil.

I put my arm around Vilkas' shoulder. "Steward, bodyguard, gothlord, brother. He's a man of many titles."

"Right." the same voice responded. "The Dragonborn, his housecarl, and the man of many titles are here to see him."

Another guard nodded and headed to the doors. After a few moments, he returned and invited us into the Palace of Kings. I patted the guard on the back as we passed him.

We all entered the long main room, walking casually toward the empty throne. I looked around for Ulfric, but he wasn't in his planning room either. I shook my head to Lyd and Vil, who just shrugged.

"He must be upstairs." I said, hopping up the steps to his throne and plopping into the Jarl's seat. I tossed my legs over the arm of the chair, leaning against the other in a grand display of arrogance.

Lydia crossed her arms. "Cass, get down from there. That's so disrespectful."

I laughed, taking my helmet off and tossing it to Vil, who caught it with one hand. "Please, it's just a chair."

"It's the Jarl's chair." Lydia countered.

I shrugged, closing my eyes and relaxing entirely. "Ah, this is nice." I opened one eye to glance at my wife. "You know, I could totally be a Jarl."

Vilkas laughed. "You're joking, right?"

I scowled at him. "Afraid not, brother. I could rule a city."

"You couldn't rule a city." Lydia said, her eyebrow raised. "You still can't even get that girl in Markarth to say two words to you."

"Shut up, Lyd. I'll bet you forty septims if I went to Markarth right now, the broad would talk to me."

My wife lowered her brow, my favorite mischievous grin appearing on her face. "You've got yourself a bet, Dovahkiin."

At the name, I smiled. I was so used to being called 'Dragonborn' by the people of Skyrim, it was a nice reminder that there was so much more to the word than just the fame and glory. I sighed. "You know what, I miss Paarthurnax. Let's visit High Hrothgar."

"High Hrothgar." a familiar deep voice bellowed from the planning room. "Now that's a place I haven't been in a while." I bolted upright and jumped down from the throne, falling into line with my companions.

As they emerged, Galmar spoke from behind Ulfric. "Oh, yes. Haven't been there since the Dragonborn lost us the Rift during our little 'discussion' with Tulius."

I grinned, taking my helmet back from Vil and tucking it under my right arm. "Well, we'll be taking it back in a few days, my Jarl. I hope that can make up for it."

Ulfric laughed as he took his seat in his throne, slouching into a comfortable position. Galmar stood nearby, his arms crossed and his eyes shadowed by his little bear hat.

"I remember that day fondly." the Jarl said, resting his head against a closed fist. "Maybe after this war ends, we can start another to bring that Thalmor bitch off of her high horse."

I snickered. "I'd enjoy that, honestly. She has such a stick up her ass."

Galmar raised an eyebrow. "Pull it out and stab her in the chest with it." The three of us laughed as Lydia and Vilkas exchanged a look. Vil had no idea what we were talking about, but Lydia was just indifferent to the exchange of words happening around her.

Ulfric sighed as our moment of comedy came to a close. "So, I assume you've come to take my housecarl from me."

Lydia nodded. "We have, my Jarl. Our wagon is at the stables, waiting to head to Riften."

Ulfric nodded. "I'm glad things are playing out like this. Whiterun was a turning point for us. Now that we've been laying low, however, they're expecting an attack." He turned to Galmar. "Take the Rift back for me, friend. I'll notify Laila Law-Giver, now that things are truly in action. Let her know her seat is available again."

Galmar grunted. "Dealing with Maven Black-Briar will be an interesting task. The woman is so full of herself. It makes my skin crawl."

I nodded toward Lydia. "Let my wife deal with her. She has a firm distaste for pig-headed women."

"Pig-headed people, Cass." Lyd said from behind me. "I don't discriminate."

Ulfric laughed. "Good." He turned to Galmar, who was clearly ready to go. "Safe travels, friend. Try to return in one piece."

Galmar nodded, looking at Ulfric a little too long for my taste. "I will, my Jarl. I'll bring the Rift back to you."

We said our farewells, and just as quickly as we arrived, we were gone again. Our destination was Riften, a city to take and a war to win.