Chapter 2: Introductions and Executions
When he came to he was on the back of a wagon with three other prisoners sitting around him. The blonde Nord was one of them, his eyes were glued to the road ahead. Art looked around the wagon at the other two prisoners. The first was a scrawny Nord, shivering from the cold and looking very unhappy to be among the members of the cart.
It was the final occupant of the cart that drew Art's eye however. It was the man in the bearskin robe, the on that had ordered the Stormcloaks to stand down. He sat, relaxed, in the back of the cart despite the gag in his mouth.
"He wouldn't have much to say even if he weren't gagged." The blonde Nord had noticed he was awake.
"Really? He could do some apologizing if you ask me," the scrawny Nord spat. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, I could have been halfway to Hammerfell by now!"
"Shut your mouth!" the blonde Nord roared. "You are in the presence of Jarl Ulfric, the true High King of Skyrim!"
"Shut up back there!" The guard at the front of the cart yelled.
"Jarl Ulfric…? If they've captured you, then that means…." The smaller Nord's eyes fell. "Where are they taking us?"
"I couldn't tell you, but Sovengarde awaits."
"Helgen," Art chimed in. The blonde Nord turned his gaze towards him, questioning.
"I mean they'll probably take us to Helgen. It's the Empire's biggest station this close to the border. It's also where I'm from."
"That's good friend, it's good for a man's last thoughts to be of home."
"Last thoughts?" the smaller Nord looked around panicked. "I'm not ready yet!"
"Peace friend." The blonde Nord said soothingly. "Where are you from?"
"Rorikstead, I'm Lokir of Rorikstead."
"Peace Lokir, my name is Ralof of Riverrun." Ralof then turned to face him. "And what's your name friend?"
"I said shut up! We're here" the guard yelled again. All four prisoners turned to face the front of the cart as they rounded the bend, just to see the walls of Helgen coming into sight. As they passed through the main gate, the driver yelled up to a man standing on the walls, dressed in the Legion armor of a General.
"General Tulius sir! Jarl Ulfric and the remaining Stormcloaks for execution!"
"Into the courtyard with them! We will be performing the executions straight away!"
"You hear that Ulfric? You better pray to whatever gods will listen, your time is almost up!" The driver heckled.
"Executions? Surely they won't kill me for just stealing a horse!"
"Don't be so sure Lokir," Ralof responded, "once these Imperials smell blood it's hard to quench their thirst".
Art looked around as they were paraded through Helgen. All around him he saw familiar faces, people he had lived his life with, sold the results of his hunts, and the children that loved to run through the streets. As the Imperials continued down the streets, parents ushered their children inside, closing the doors behind them.
The cart slowly drew to the center of the main square, where a makeshift execution grounds had already been prepared.
"Looks like they were expecting company" Art noted. Ralof muttered his assent while Ulfric just stared at the execution grounds.
"Woah, hold!" The driver commanded the horses to stop. Imperial guards rushed forward to escort the prisoners out of the wagon. As Art looked around he saw that there were two other wagons, both packed with Stormcloaks.
"This many Stormcloaks would allow themselves to be captured?" He asked rhetorically.
"No, this many Nords would die for Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King of Skyrim!" Ralof cried over the crowd, resulting in roars of approval.
"Hail Ulfric! The true High King"
"Hail Ulfric!"
"Hail!"
"SILENCE."
The voice echoed over the Stormcloaks, silencing them. Art looked around and saw that it had come from the man on the wall, the one the driver had referred to as General Tulius.
"Hadvar, get these prisoners organized and prepared for execution!"
"Yes sir! Prisoners, this way!"
Art turned and faced the man who had spoken, and saw an Imperial soldier, with shoulder length brown hair, holding a quill and a list of names.
"Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm. Step forward" he ordered.
Jarl Ulfric stepped forward calmly. The soldier named Hadvar just pointed him towards the execution block. Ulfric stared at him for a moment, then followed where he pointed.
"Ralof of Riverwood" the soldier called next.
"Hadvar my old friend!" Called the blonde Nord. "Funny to meet again in a place like this!"
"To the block you traitor" Hadvar ordered. "Sovengard awaits" he said, his tone mocking.
"Lokir of Rorikstead. Step forward."
"Please, you need to believe me, I'm not a Stormcloak! I'm just a horse thief!" Lokir pleaded with the soldier, but the soldier showed no compassion on his face.
"To the block friend" was his only response.
"No! You can't! I'm no traitor!" Lokir took off running, trying to escape the main square and make it to the gate. The Imperial archers leveled their bows before he even made it halfway though, and their arrows made short work of him.
"See what happens to those that try to escape?" Hadvar said. He then turned to look at Art. "Artoov?" He looked concerned. He checked his list. "Captain, this one isn't on the list!"
"Too bad! They're all going to the block!" a strong female voice responded. It came from a burly Nord woman, wearing the Legionnaire amour of a Captain.
"Aye Captain. I'm sorry Artoov, I wish you hadn't gotten caught up in this." Hadvar pointed him to the block, a glimmer of remorse in his eye. Art followed where he was pointing, and joined the other prisoners gathered around the block.
"Today we commit these souls to Sovengard." There was a priestess at the front of the crowd reading the prisoners their last rights. "By Akatosh, Diabella, Arkay…"
"Yeah, yeah. We get it. Let's hurry this up! The gods are waiting for me." One Stormcloak soldier pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and came to stand just in front of the block.
"As it please you," the priestess said. She stepped aside for the headsman, who pushed the prisoner to his knees, head of the block. He raised his axe above his head…
…and it fell on the Stormcloak, cutting through his neck with ease.
"A brave man" Ralof whispered beside him.
"Next! The wood elf!" the female Captain ordered.
"Good luck friend." Ralof said.
Art stepped up to the block, wondering how in the hell his life had come to this when just this morning it was going so well. As he stepped up to the block, he uttered a silent prayer to no god in particular.
"Get down" the headsman ordered, roughly pushing him to the ground. Artoov put his head to the block, looking up past the headsman into the sky beyond. His thoughts drifted to his parents who he would soon be joining, and his younger sister Arysse, left behind to take care of herself. He only hoped that she wasn't among the crowd watching the executions.
As the headsman lifted his axe, Artoov saw a flicker of something black on the horizon. Something flying came over the mountains, and headed straight towards Helgen. It was large and black, and it was coming in very fast. As the headsman axe reached its apex, the flying beast crashed into the tower next to the square, causing a shockwave that knocked the headsman off balance. His axe came crashing down just next to Art's head.
All eyes turned to face the beast. They crowd began screaming, and Art heard children crying.
"DRAGON" someone shouted.
Then the world exploded.