When the Dragonborn marched out of the Reach two days after his stop in Markarth, it was with an army at his back.
Mounted atop a large strong backed chestnut draft horse, Lucius rode at the head of a column of one thousand of Markarth's city guard, all outfitted in green cloaks and brown scale mail armour and hefting stout wooden shields and a collection of steel war axes and Imperial-made swords. As he glanced behind, his Dragonbone armour, specially quilted on the inside for easier movement, pressing slightly into him, Lucius could just make out the fading sun light glinting off the heavy armour of the five hundred soldiers of the Imperial Legion bringing up the rear of the column. In the treeline around them moved the small but quick shapes of the force's scouts, made up of native Breton Reachmen in deep green cloaks armed with longbows, making sure no Forsworn raiders or Stormcloak remnants were waiting in ambush. The old Dwemer road was wide enough for ten men to march abreast at once, and as the army marched forward on foot, he could see the various Markarth and Imperial captains on horseback, along with standard bearers holding aloft Imperial dragon and Reach ram's head banners.
Ahead stretched the road to Whiterun, at least two more days march for the Jarl's men. Jarl Igmund had been more than happy for Lucius to lead his men to the court of High King Balgruuf and pledge his aid against the Dwemer. Besides the fact that the Jarl had had Calcelmo explaining the situation to him for a few hours before Lucius managed to speak to him, the Jarl evidently recognised the fragile position he and the people of the Reach were in. As a former regional stronghold of the Dwemer alongside Eastmarch and the Pale up north, Jarl Igmund must have feared that the Dwarves would bring their automaton armies crashing against his walls first.
Looking around him at the crumbling Dwemer monuments and remains of ancient watchtowers on the steep crags above, Lucius briefly caught the eye of his housecarl from Markarth, the sour faced but physically intimidating Argis the Bulwark. The burly Nord nodded respectfully at Lucius, keeping his right hand near his sword sheath and the other firmly on the reins of his own horse.
"Expecting trouble Argis?" Lucius asked and the big man nodded.
"I always expect something, my thane. Means I'm not surprised when anything happens. I know the Jarl's always saying the Forsworn are a minor threat, but I've lost too many friends to those madmen to let up now.
As he said this there came a clatter of hooves on cobbled stone as an Imperial Legate in full armour, his helmet off to reveal a thin faced Breton man with an impressive goatee, rode up alongside the Dragonborn and his housecarl, two other soldiers on horseback carrying Imperial standards at his back.
"Dragonborn." The Legate said, dipping his head.
"Legate Galliverie." Lucius said respectfully. "How are the troops?"
"In high spirits. I've had the quartermaster get some torches ready. Nights drawing in and we'll need to pitch camp soon. I just want to get out of the Reach before we do…" he added with a nervous grin.
Lucius nodded. He could understand the paranoia his two companions were feeling, despite both being capable warriors and the match of any Forsworn raider. "Any reports from the scouts?"
"Nothing much. The rear-guard even managed to bag a few rabbits. I'm just glad all the other scouts have been reporting nothing. I mean its bad enough worrying about the Dwemer in Morrowind without having to think about the barbarians on your doorstep."
"Do you know anywhere good to camp around here Argis?" Lucius asked and the Nord responded with a gruff yes.
"There's a Giant camp a few miles north of here. We can make it in about an hour. Caves of the Elders it's called. I only know it because an old mercenary friend of mine, Gorkur, a big Orc from out west, told me he was taking some of his old kin from a stronghold in the Reach and setting up a new outpost there."
"Orcs and Giants working together…" Galliverie said with a roll of his eyes. "Never believed it until I heard the stories about the Giants actually sending an ambassador to the Imperial City. He was naked except for a scrap of mammoth hide and needed an old Orc to translate for him but I heard the big bastard actually got an audience with the emperor himself!"
Lucius shook his head in disbelief. Even he had thought it a strange joke or drunken rumour when he heard of Giants allying with the Empire and asking for aid from their Orc 'cousins'. But General Tullius, the man who Lucius had never known to even smile, had confirmed the story, even told of how the Giant ambassador had almost stood on him during his meeting with the emperor.
As he looked ahead into the gathering darkness Lucius saw the soldiers behind them readying torches, driving back the growing night.
"Stranger things have happened." Lucius said simply. "The Dwemer are back. Giants are developing intelligence. Maybe Sheogorath actually does influence the world…"
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When they reached the 'gates' of the Giant camp Argis had called the Caves of the Elders, the large column found their path blocked by a large wall made out of boulders and tree trunks, along with more advanced spiked palisades topping it, evidently added by the Orc's the Giants were allied with.
"Well this is comforting." Galliverie said sarcastically as the large gates, made in the Orcish style from heavy logs and iron spikes, opened inwards and a group of Orcs in full armour carrying large battle-axes came marching out, at their head a huge Orc with a warhammer that looked like a small giant's club in hand. The huge Orc, who Lucius guessed to be the leader, planted his feet in a combat pose and shouted at the large army before him fearlessly.
"Who are you to trespass upon this land? You humans think yourselves above us all? Why do you come with torches and swords to burn these giants out?"
Sensing a growing tension from the troops behind him, and noticing the Orcs hiding in the dense bushes around the base of the wall with bows and axes at the ready, Lucius spurred his horse forward, keeping his hands away from his sheathed Blades' swords, Argis at his side.
Instantly the large Orc's face broke into an ugly but genuine smile, his large teeth set in a grin.
"Argis my old friend!" he called out. "I didn't realise you were still with the Jarl's men."
Argis nodded, his normally stony face actually showing some semblance of a smile for once.
"It's good to see you Gorkur. I didn't realise you were successful in getting through to the giants either."
"It was hard but we share common ancestors from eras back. Plus they've had it just as hard as us to get accepted by many people. We have a common interest." Gorkur replied. "Your men have nothing to fear."
"We need shelter for the night." Argis said firmly, Lucius and the Legate staying quiet, knowing that the grim Nord housecarl would be able to handle the situation best. "Our men are weary from marching from Markarth and we don't feel safe out in the open. Even Whiterun Hold isn't entirely safe these days."
Gorkur nodded.
"Of course. I will have to speak to the Giant's chieftain King Galan. But this stronghold is strong and more than large enough for your own men and horses."
As the big Orc let his club fall to his side and marched back inside the Giant fort with his retinue, Galliverie turned to Lucius.
"Can we trust them?"
The Dragonborn shrugged, a jovial grin on his face.
"Look pretty much every single place in this province that isn't an Imperial fort or major city is usually full of bandits or worse. If trusting a whole stronghold full of Giants is what it takes to get a good night's sleep, I'll take it." He said with a shrug and the Legate suppressed a laugh.
"General Tullius wasn't lying when he said you were a bit too easy-going… When I heard I was working with the Dragonborn I was expecting some huge Nord with a beard down to his chest, not a skinny Imperial. No offence of course sir."
Lucius grinned. "Just because I could Shout you to pieces for that doesn't mean I will. Who am I, Ulfric Stormcloak?"
The two men laughed nervously, the only other sounds from the army behind being the low conversation between the soldiers and the nervous snorting of horses.
Then the Orc Gorkur emerged from the gates again, and walked up to Lucius and his two companions. He nodded slowly.
"King Galan says you may stay in his stronghold for the night. But he wishes to speak with you Dragonborn." He added, then turned on his heel and marched back inside the fort, beckoning for Lucius and the others to follow.
As the soldiers marched forward Lucius spurred his horse on, hearing the cracking of reins from the supply carts and Imperial soldiers far behind them as he and Argis passed through the gate, the Or watchmen clutching torches and bows to themselves warily as the army marched past.
"How did he know I was the Dragonborn?" Lucius muttered as they passed through the small bottleneck made of high boulders and sharpened wooden stakes beyond the gate.
"It's not like anyone else would have the balls to wear a full set of Dragonbone armour…" Galliverie replied simply and Lucius shrugged.
Then they emerged into the fort interior itself and Lucius felt a slight sense of wonder at how different it was to the more primitive Giant camps.
The interior of the fort was the size of a small town, bordered on all sides by the boulder and wooden palisade walls, rising up to at least twice the height of a man so, even on horseback, Lucius couldn't see over to the other side. Inside the majority of the buildings were huge houses made of boulders with tree trunks as roofs, and Giants came stumbling out of them, all of them the same bearded males with clubs Lucius was used to seeing. Around the Giant's houses were clusters of more Orcish buildings, built to human size with the pointed roofs and circular style that the Dragonborn recognised from the other Orc strongholds he had visited.
The column passed through the main 'street' of Giant houses, their occupants eyeing them warily, past a large group of bare chested Orc men with pickaxes and into a large open area large enough to fit the village of Riverwood in at least twice, which was empty except for a few hairy cows and, in the distance the unmistakable bulk of mammoths. From where he was Lucius could just see the light of large Orc forges past the open area, shadows of figures visible lit up in the red glow.
"Your men will stay here." Gorkur said gruffly. "There is enough space for your tents and your horses can be stabled with our own animals."
The Legate looked ready to complain but Lucius quickly answered instead. "Of course. Thank you Gorkur."
The Orc nodded, seeming slightly surprised at Lucius politeness then simply turned away saying. "You will come with me Dragonborn."
Argis looked about to follow but Gorkur shook his head. "No. I am sorry my friend but we do not want to anger the Giant's chief. He requested only the Dragonborn to speak with him."
The burly housecarl dipped his head and turned back to the soldiers now spreading out across the open area, already pitching tents and setting up cooking fires as the night began to roll in.
"Take me to the chief." Lucius said firmly and they set off, through a row of Orc huts and stockpiles of wood and iron ingots stacked up neatly.
The Orc sighed as they passed by a group of Giants who eyed both of them mistrustfully.
"The Giants don't approve?" Lucius asked.
"The Giants don't exactly 'approve' of us Orcs either but they put up with us. They know that we're the only chance of them getting accepted by the Empire."
"Why hasn't the emperor sent anyone?"
"Better things to do I guess, with the war and all. Besides, all the Nords in these parts wouldn't care if a dragon came down and wiped this whole settlement out and waste a years' worth of work by me and my fellow Orcs."
As he said this a large rocky outcrop rose up ahead of them, crowned at the top by an Orc made watchtower of sawn logs and spiked metal.
But it was the outcrop itself which fascinated Lucius. Seemingly every inch of the huge stony hill was covered in symbols painted on in deep brown and red paints, mainly crude circles but also large runes that looked almost like the Dragon language, large figures twice the size of a man and crude images of what looked like small men with swords attacking the larger figures.
Passing through another palisade wall, the Orc and the Imperial came to the entrance to a huge cave, at least ten metres high and as wide, a Giant with a stone club dressed in crude armour made of bones and scraps of iron standing guard alongside two Orcs that looked almost puny by comparison, even in full armour. The three guards let them pass, the two Orcs gazing in wonder at Lucius' Dragonbone armour, and their eyes widened even further as he removed his helmet and tied it to his belt, revealing his slim Imperial features.
"They were expecting someone taller?" Lucius said with a grin as they passed into the cave and the Orc laughed gruffly.
The cave beyond, instead of going further back like Lucius had expected, instead went down in a steep but large stairway, evidently built to Giant size as the Lucius and Gorkur found themselves having to take comically large steps to make their way down. As they headed down Lucius noticed the marks of primitive tools on the walls, and realised that this was no natural cave.
"The Giants must have taken years to carve this out." He said simply and Gorkur grunted in agreement.
"Impressive isn't it? I guess everyone was wrong when they thought they were all stupid beasts. They're still not 'tame' by your standards though, Imperial." He added darkly as they passed by a row of sharpened stakes with Troll heads impaled on them. And, as Lucius looked closer, he saw human bodies on a few of them, mainly dressed in Forsworn rags or crude bandit armour.
"Who were they?"
"It doesn't matter." Gorkur replied simply. "They angered the Giants. That's all it takes. You had better hope that your men aren't stupid enough to annoy them. There's a lot more Giants here than just those ones on the surface."
As the Orc said this they came to the bottom of the staircase, and began walking down a high ceilinged corridor, various caves opening on both sides.
And it was then that Lucius caught his first glimpse of female Giants and children.
The females were slimmer but still formidable, with piercing deep blue eyes and grey skin, their hair long and tangled, while their clothes were large ragged dresses, in many ways similar to the rough peasant clothing many farmers Lucius had met wore, but much cruder and bedecked with bone amulets. The children were small, but still the height of a tall Nord or High Elf, with long gangly arms and short wiry hair, hiding behind their mother's knees with fearful expressions.
"Many of these giants are from the Pale." Gorkur explained in a low voice as they passed by more cave dwellings. "The dumb savage Giant tribes that give the others a bad name attacked Nord settlements many times over the years until a few years back Jarl Skald sent out his soldiers and wiped out all the tribes, no matter of whether they were dumb brutes or peaceful. These are all that's left…"
As he finished speaking Lucius felt a deep feeling of guilt inside him. How many of the giants he had killed for bounties had been savages? How many of the more peaceful ones had he killed thinking they were stupid brutes?
He pushed these thought out of his mind as they came to a huge open cavern, lit by fires from crude braziers made from mammoth tusks and stone, at least thirty Giants clustering around the edges, sat with crossed legs or stood against the walls, their clubs by their sides.
As they walked through the lines of mistrustful Giants Lucius looked up ahead and saw the Giant's chieftain.
King Galan was huge even by Giant standards, at least a head above the two others who stood by him, presumably as bodyguards. His beard was long and flowing, flecked with some grey but mostly a deep black, while his 'crown' was made of human bones and pieces of malachite. But it was the armour that the Giant leader wore that impressed Lucius the most. Huge pieces of hammered Orichalcum made up the majority of it, but there were still many Giant influences, mainly in the form of bones and pieces of mammoth hide and leather to hold it all together. And, at the waist, in a strange nod to Imperial armour designs, was a chainmail and leather skirt dyed red, like a huge version of Imperial Legion armour.
Lucius felt his heart pounding as he approached the Giant king. He had fought Giants before but had never been up so close to them like this. The Giant rose from his throne, made from ancient Nordic columns and weathered tree trunks, and stood, his hand reaching for his club, a terrible looking weapon made from the wing bone of a Dragon studded with iron swords on its edges for extra damage.
"Don't show any fear." Gorkur muttered to Lucius as King Galan advanced upon him, his club held in a firm grip, his other hand curling into a fist. "Don't back down or he'll see you as beneath him and not worth his time."
The giant stopped barely a metre away from Lucius, drew his head back and let out one low bellow which echoed across the room, a deafening roar as loud as that of a Dragon.
Lucius' eyes widened, genuine fear obvious in his eyes but he stopped, taking a deep breath as the Giant's grip on his club tightened. Calling upon all his knowledge and ability, the Dragonborn raised his own head, staring straight up at the giant as he shouted back.
"Yol-Toor-Shul!"
As the words left his lips there was a faint impression of Dragon runes in the air ahead of him, instantly changing to a red hot ball of flame, which shot out and impacted against the wall right next to where King Galan stood, the other Giants noticeably stepping back from the spectacle of seeing ancient magic in action, and even the Giant king flinched slightly, his eyes widening.
Then the Giant opened his gaping mouth again, and Lucius felt a stab of fear in him. Had he angered the king even further? Was he now going to crush him like a walnut?
Then the king's booming laughter echoed across the room, soon taken up by the other occupants of the room, and Gorkur clasped Lucius on the shoulder and nodded.
"You've done it Dragonborn." He said respectfully. "You've scared one of the most fearsome creatures in Skyrim and earned his undying respect."
The Giant king spoke now, his tone guttural and deep, the words grating and incompressible to Lucius. But Gorkur listened and then translated for Lucius.
"King Galan is impressed by your fire, both in person and spirit." He said. "But he wishes to know why you bring an army to his tribe's land?"
"I bring an army because the Dwemer have returned and wish to make war upon all of Tamriel."
Gorkur's eyes widened but he stayed calm and translated to the king, who only nodded slowly and spoke again, his brows furrowing.
"He says that he does not know who the Dwemer are." Gorkur said. "He remembers the Old One- their tribes' wise man and oldest living member." Gorkur explained" He remembers him telling stories of the 'elves-of-the-square-houses' who made war against his people and the 'men-who-prayed-to-the-dragons' who fought against them in long ages past."
Lucius nodded. "Can we speak with this 'Old One'?"
Gorkur spoke to the king again, and the Giant nodded and pointed one gangly arm at a side passage marked by troll skulls and huge torches made from pine trees.
"The Old One is in the Cave of Stories." The Orc said, then motioned for Lucius to follow him.
As they left the room Lucius felt the eyes of every Giant in the room fall upon him, and heard them speak in hushed tones amongst themselves, a slight sense of reverence obvious in their voices.
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The Cave of Stories was down a long passageway, much lower than the other caves they had been in.
"The Giants believe in the power of stories and ancient legends." Gorkur said, his voice echoing in the long tunnel, lit only by the torches he and Lucius held aloft. "This tunnel was made in such a way that only those who kneel before their ancestor's wisdom can enter."
The tunnel opened out into another cave, this one lit by dozens of torches and braziers, casting strange shadows across the room. As he stepped inside Lucius felt his eyes drawn to the countless paintings and carvings upon the walls, and marvelled at the surprising detail that many of them displayed.
But then his eyes fell upon the lone occupant of the room and he felt a sense of humility amongst his wonder. The Giant that sat before them, draped in a mammoth fur cloak and his snow white beard pooling around his feet, was ancient, every inch of his blue-grey skin covered in wrinkles along with the scars of ancient battles. As they drew closer Lucius saw the Old One's legs were thin and shrunken, as if he was so ancient his body had begun to weather like the old stone in ancient ruins. His arms as well were thin and spindly, his fingers long and almost humanlike compared to the disproportionate limbs of other Giants. It was then that Lucius realised that those delicate paintings and pictures upon the walls had not been done by human hands, but by those of the Giant before him.
"You have come…Dragonborn." The old Giant said, and Lucius didn't even feel surprised at the Old One knowing the Common Tongue, he had evidently been around long enough to learn it. Even so the Giant's words were low and rumbling like his fellows in the other cave, and he paused every few words, as if searching for the right word was a challenge for him. "I have…seen many Eras but never one of the Dragonkin."
Lucius dipped his head respectfully, as did Gorkur, and the Old One smiled as Lucius spoke.
"I heard that you had knowledge of the Dwemer."
"The Elves-of-the-Square-Houses?" The Old One replied with one snow white eyebrow raised. "I remember them well. They walked the earth when I was but a … youngling. We called them Dwarves… We had peace with them, and the 'Men-who-prayed-to-the-dragons' for many years. But they…built their golden cave cities and grew proud."
As he said this he gestured with one withered arm to a painting to his left and Lucius looked over, seeing a large depiction of Giants in grey wielding clubs alongside what could only be ancient Nordic warriors. And, to the right of the Giants and their Nord allies, were rank upon rank of Dwemer soldiers, painted in vivid gold and blue, their lines orderly and regimented even on a crude cave painting.
"They made war…against us." The Old One said. "We fought against them with club and fist…stone and foot. The men-who-prayed-to-the-dragons used their magic and Shouted them down. But it was not enough." He added in a low voice, as if remembering ancient battles and his role in them.
"Then they came…." He said, and Lucius looked along the cave wall, past the scenes of Dwemer armies driving back the Giants and Nords, to the unmistakable black wings and tongues of orange flame issuing from the gaping maws of-
"Dragons."
The Old One nodded. "The gods of the…Nords. They came down from on high and smote the Dwarves and they retreated deep into the mountains."
Lucius looked at the paining for a few more minutes, glancing over to see Gorkur marvelling at the artwork himself.
"But the Dwemer weren't defeated were they?" Lucius said simply, and the Old One shook his head sadly.
"They made…new weapons."
As he said this he stood up, his cloak falling to his knees, and, with trembling steps, walked over to a mammoth fur blanket thrown against what Lucius assumed to be an outcropping of rock.
But then the Old One pulled the mammoth fur away, and Lucius felt himself step back slightly as the torchlight reflected off the battered but still shining form of a Dwemer Centurion.
"We captured this during one of the battles with them." The Old One explained. "We caught it in strong ropes and the men-who-worshipped-dragons bound it in chains of iron but it still moved. We kept it in this cave for centuries and it's…power….did not fade. I watched over it every day for decades and it kept trying to escape."
"Why does it not move now then?" Gorkur asked simply, his hand clenching the handle of his warhammer in a tight grip.
"Its power died when the Dwarves disappeared." The Old One said as he settled back upon the floor. "I watched from this exact…place…as the light left its cold metal eyes and it…was still."
"Could you tell our soldiers how to fight against the Dwemer now that they are back?" Lucius asked. He appreciated learning more about the Giants but he needed to know real information he could use when he returned to the Legion in Solitude and joined up with whatever forces High King Balgruuf was preparing.
"No." The Old One said firmly. "But I can show them."
"With all due respect…" Lucius began, not wanting to anger a potential ally.
Suddenly, with a hiss and a clank of metal on metal, the Centurion behind them began to move and advance on them.
"Malacath preserve us!" Gorkur roared, rushing forward with his warhammer at the ready and Lucius drew his swords from their sheaths with a clatter of steel.
But then, in one swift movement Lucius would never have thought him capable of, the Old One leapt to his feet, his left hand contorting into a fist. He ducked the swing from the Centurion's hammer and, as it tried to bring its axe hand down, he brought his own fist around and punched its head clean from its shoulders. The Centurion stumbled back, and the Old One swung straight at its chest with his right hand, punching through its golden armour and ripping his fist back out, clutching the dynamo core that powered the infernal machine and crushed it in his hand.
As the Centurion fell against the cave wall with a metallic clank and hiss of steam, the Old One turned back to Lucius and Gorkur, who stood, open mouthed with surprise and awe. Lucius was the first to speak.
"I think your skills would be useful for our men to know…"