A/N: Yes I know, took me long enough but this was long to write and I didn't expect it to be that long but it sort of just happened. Please excuse any spelling or grammar errors I type fast and sometimes a miss a few words or something like that. I do review them and correct them daily when I can.


Rohan departed from Riverwood as soon as the sun had raised high enough for light to travel. "Take the market road north, you can't miss it, the city is in the middle of the valley." Gerdur had told him, her directions were true to the point. Just as he got from the treeline out of wood he could see the city of Whiterun with Dragonsreach perched on top of it all. It was a marvel to see the palace even at that distance, he couldn't wait to see it up close.

Getting to Whiterun was the easy part, getting in was the challenging one. Once Rohan past the Hold's station of stables, a mass gathering of folks was circling near the first bailey gates. Camps set up with large numbers of tents and makeshift shacks. The looks on the people's faces, scared and desperate. There was only one type of people Rohan knew that looked that way...refugees.

The ongoing civil war had left many people with war-ravaged homes and with now the talks of dragons made some folk desperate to get behind city walls. Yet judging by the jarl's reputation for being over cautious a proclamation had been stated that the gates were to be closed limiting entry to the capital residents only. It made sense in a way, helping refugees as admirable as it may come with consequences. Straining of resources, mistrust between the local townspeople, a whole lot of shit to go sideways in an instant.

Making his way towards the outer bailey Rohan could see a khajiit merchant camp within the dense mass of people. Of course, khajiit trade caravans would be here, war makes quite the enterprise and khajiit had their feline senses for it. There Rohan saw them peddling supplies to desperate peasants. No doubt at a higher price, supply, and demand as always.

Now at the forward gate, Rohan was stuck in the crowd of angry villagers, pushing his way to the front.

"There's room in there!" someone in the crowd had shouted.

"Balgruuf can't keep us out here, we'll die!"

"Please, there are children!"

Guardsmen were at the front nudging people to move along. Rohan had finally pushed the last man from his path and was met with two angry guardsmen. Their yellow cloaks draped over their armor both carrying a shield emblazoned with a steed as Whiterun Hold's sigil. "Halt!" barked one from the muzzle of his closed helm. "Whiterun is closed due to the dragon menace and war campaigns! Official business only!"

Rohan hands the guard a fine piece of written parchment, "I have a writ from Riverwood signed by the village alderwoman. I seek an audience with the jarl in a request for aid."

Guard snorted a hmph and open the parchment to check its legitimacy. Everything seemed to be in order, the signature looked legit and the writing flawless yet there was one problem. "Where's the seal?"

That made Rohan confused, "What?"

The guard pointed to the top page of the writ as to show that an ordained stamp was to be there. "A seal for us to know that this is a legal document. Any backwoods knuckledragger that can read and write can draw up a writ for the jarl."

"Dammit! Gerdur must have forgotten that or this was just a new type of protocol." Rohan drummed up.

"Look this document is legitimate, Riverwood seeks aid for the dragons."

"Ha!" laughed the other guard, "You think Riverwood is only one with problems, Rorikstead came weeks ago barking up need for troops. I'll save you the trouble with the jarl... clear off! We've got none to spare to the hamlets."

Rohan could not leave, he could not return to Riverwood to tell them the villagers that he was turned away at the door, he couldn't disappoint Gerdur or Alvor so, he owed them that much. "I have faith in you." is what Gerdur said to him.

And as he looked back on it, he did not relent on the guard's gestures to move along. "Look I'm not planning to ask for something for nothing."

"Is that so…" said one guard folding his arms.

"I have information for Jarl Balgruuf. Information that he might think would be useful with the dragon attacks. You see I was in Helgen when it happened."

"You were in Helgen?" scoffed the other guard.

"What were you doing there? Just traveling? You know how many fools come here saying they were at Helgen!?"

"But I'm being honest I…" Rohan took a beat watching his words carefully. He did not want to tell them that he was only at Helgen cause those damned Imperials were trying to execute, that would paint him as a criminal. "I was just staying there for some time."

The guard did not believe him. The fellow wasn't the only fool who came to Whiterun looking a for a home and handout. And he certainly wasn't going to be the last.

"Really?" spoke the guardsman, a little test coming to mind to see if this stranger spoke the truth. "You see I had a cousin there. Vilod, he didn't make it out."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Perhaps you heard of him, damn good brewer he was made a special mead that he was going to peddle into a business. Anyone who's been at Helgen knows the mead I'm talking about." he continued, "Slow roasted honey, he kept honeycombs in it to soak, with a few bits of wheat, a touch of butter, whey, and…"

"Juniper Berries," Rohan said, casual yet surprising to himself. The guard was silent for a moment but then looked to his partner and then back at Rohan, eyes squinting through the visor of his helmet trying to get a read onto the stranger before him.


Balgruuf hated the weather, the clouds were a gloomy gray, stretching over the valley. A very ominous not so springy vista for rthe ain to come, just a dry breeze. It gave such a dark hollow feel to him, as if it was just an echo of death and sorrow all to this damned war. Skyrim was at it ends. And the weather was spoiling his lunch. An irritable thought came to him as he remembered his advisors badgering him to enjoy himself this noon time. "Go outside…" they say, "The spring air is nice."

Pfft! Nothing was improving his mood not even the damn food.

The ham was too salty and he barely touched the leeks that were earlier hot and steamy now a lukewarm, stale texture. He didn't bother with the freshly picked fruit laid out before him on a platter and declined an offer of fresh baked sweet rolls that Gerda had just finished baking. Instead, the jarl took one last gulp of his wine finishing it, his young cupbearer holding a pitcher quickly went to the table to refill his chalice but Balgruuf waved the lad off, getting up from the table onto his feet.

Irileth was standing in the shadows, her way of keeping watch of her liege without looming over him as he eats. As Balgruuf passed her, she steps out following him to the door. "No vegetables?" she teased.

Balgruuf grumbled before he spoke, "I don't like leeks, I've told Fianna and Gerda both that I don't like them."

"You should eat them regardless, don't want you getting plump. You're not a soldier anymore so swinging your sword to keep in shape doesn't happen as often." the dunmer woman replied.

Balgruuf rolled his eyes. Always the mother hen she was.

"Since you finished your lunch early Proventus would be pleased. We can begin the coming meeting, he so desperately wants to squander your time with imperial bullshit as usual."

Balgruuf groaned Irileth continued.

"And then there's Hrongar now doubt in another useless attempt to pressure you to engage in the effort against Ulfric's incursion."

Another breathless groaned. They were coming to the throne room where court was always held.

"Those two really going to badger me about the war?" said Balgruuf almost hoping not to be true yet knowing it was. He took a seat on his throne. "After many times I've denied them!?"

Irileth folded her arms leaning on her hip, she snorted a grin giving Balgruuf a very "Well duh!" look.

And right on cue, as Balgruuf's bottom touched the chair, Proventus and Hrongar came waltzing from whatever hovel that held themselves in within the palace and right into Balgruuf's sight. The two looked to have been arguing amongst themselves barely noticing the jarl.

"You may be a worm who sticks his arse in the air and submits defeat to avoid conflict Proventus but I'm a man who faces his enemies dead on." Hrongar spoke booming in a sense of arrogance that only a nord of his stature could.

Proventus had a sour look on his face, offended by the blithering brute's insult. "So planting our forces on the border to Eastmarch is a grand idea? I"m sure Ulfric wouldn't mind that at all, no retaliation to worry about. Quite the war strategist you are Hrongar."

Hrongar snorted "At least I know how to carry a sword. Unlike you, yet I hear that pretty daughter has a better swing, I guess mettle skips a generation!"

That was the last straw, Proventus went into an angry hiss "KEEP MY FAMILY OUT OF YOUR MOUTH! YOU BLITHERING-

"I'm so glad my two favorite advisors are discussing plans for my Hold without me!" Balgruuf interjected.

"Forgive me my lord!" said Proventus apologetically. "Just having a little debate with your brother on war strategum, I would never overtake your authority."

Balgruuf rolled his eyes not wanting nor needing Proventus's apology, he glances at Hrongar who only grumbled and crossed his arms. A meathead as always that one.

Balgruuf looked to him "If you so desperately want to join the fight against Ulfric dear brother, Solitude is but a day's ride away. Tullius is always looking for nords to throw their lives away at something pointless."

"Pointless!?" said Hrongar. "Brother forgive me but I disagree, Ulfric tearing the land apart for his selfish ambition isn't something worthless to defend against! And you shouldn't ignore it!"

"And why not?!" Balgruuf fired back, "Ulfric wants to be High King but he can't just win it by killing other nords, the Moot decides on that final note. Yet the Moot can't convene with the Empire sticking their noses into our business! We could easily handle this matter on our own hands yet those dunces in the Gold Tower think themselves the sovereign of our lands and fiddle their fingers into everything we're doing."

"They're only taking matters into their hands because they fear a retaliation." said Proventus like any imperial he defended his homeland's government.

"Of whom? The elves!? You think I'm truly afraid of the damn Thalmor!? They're laughing back at Summerset Isle you know. They're just overjoyed at the sight of this!

Skyrim is tearing itself apart, Hammerfell is near gone, and High Rock is useless as usual and I don't think Morrowind is sparing any tears of the Empire collapsing especially with that volcano still blaring off! Cyrodiil can barely hold anything together and the Aldmeri Dominion is merely regaining their strength to do the finishing blow to Talos's legacy. One final spit into the face of the ninth divine."

"But my jarl think on the subject at hand." said Proventus. "It's come down to two people, Elisif or Ulfric. Unless you wish to put your candidacy forward?"

"Pfft!" Balgruuf snorted, "Don't be ridiculous."

"But he's right." said Hrongar, surprisingly agreeing with Proventus. "That idiot Siddgeir only cares about mead, women, and hunting, and then you have Korir a daft twit who think those mages are out to get him! Old decrepit Skald who nearly shits himself before noon! Laila the law giver who's too stupid to understand irony!"

"Then there's Idgrod being borderline fucking senile." mumbled Irileth for everyone to hear.

"Also Igmund who's shit he pulled with the Forsworn by dragging in Ulfric into it, lead us to this conflict in the first place!" Hrongar finished, "Think on it brother, Ulfric and Elisif are our only choice."

Balgruuf only sneered slumping into his throne with a hard look on his face as he addles in thought. He didn't trust them, the other jarls. Not the ones who gladly grovel to the Empire's bellyaching. Letting those damn elves marching through freely and tear away folk from their homes. A dishonor to the gods and our ancestors. And then there those daft fools who blindly follow Ulfric as he pillages their lands for every resource they can barely scrounge up to support his little war campaign. He's known Ulfric years, Ulfric giving a skeever's ass for Skyrim's well being? Oblivion already came here once, there's no sense of believing it can happen twice.

Balgruuf saw bigger shit from Ulfric than the mounds found in the valley from mammoth herds.

"Damn them…" he spat inside his mind. "Damn the milk drinkers and knuckle draggers." Balgruuf only had one concern and that was Whiterun.

"So…" Balgruuf began pinching his brow trying to calm his nerves yet his mind was still racing. "Is anyone gonna talk about the dragons or are we just going to keep bickering over this blasted war?"

That question made Proventus shot up in fear, "Dragons?! We've still had no conclusion with the Helgen inquiry and…."

"Those people who are outside of the town gates are a conclusive answer to me Proventus!" Irileth said, remembering it was his idea to leave those folk out to dry. Oh, how she loathed how much of a sniveling politician he could be. Proventus only gave her a look, not bothering to answer her interjection.

"Isn't Farengar suppose to be looking into this dragon problem brother?" Hrongar said remembering it was the court wizard whom Balgruuf put in charge of running how own little special counsel.

"Nothing yet, but still...something has to be done." said Balgruuf running his hand along his long beard as if in deep thought.

Proventus stepped forward to speak with the jarl closely. "My lord please…" he began. "You have to listen. I only counsel caution. We can't afford to act out of hand in times like these. If the news of Helgen is true… well, there's no telling what it means."

"What would you have me do...nothing!?"

"My lord please, this is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act. I just…."

"Who's this then?"

Balgruuf didn't notice the man before until now. He was just standing there. A nord, a young man with a light stubble of a beard, with stocky shoulders and an athletic physique, dark-haired unlike most of their kinsmen yet with bright crystal blue eyes. He was carrying a large sack which was slung over his shoulder.

Irileth already had pounced on him. How embarrassing it was for her, she was too distracted from Proventus and Hrongar's damnable bitching that she didn't even notice the stranger being that close to her liege.

Her sword was already drawn and was an inch away from the young nord's neck, he didn't flinch just had his eyes set on her's.


Dragonsreach was extraordinary inside as it was outside, so wide and spacious it was. A signifying motif of how open the Whiterun plains were within the hold. Rohan just mesmerized by its majesty yet he wasn't expecting the hostile response he was now receiving from the dunmer who's sword end was so close at his throat

"What's the meaning of this!?" she snarled, "Jarl Balgruuf isn't expecting any visitors!"

"I've come from Riverwood, the mill village off the White River and I have urgent news for his lordship the jarl of Whiterun."

"I represent the Jarl and his court, if you have something to say to him then you can say to me?"

"I didn't come all this way here for information be pass down, I aim to speak to the jarl directly!" Gerdur entrusted him on getting them the defenses they need and he was going to do it, he could care less what this woman thought.

The dunmer only squinted her red eyes at Rohan glaring at him. "I don't think so!" she growled, "Very suspicious of you to seem to think you can get an audience with the jarl so quickly, I'm started to think…"

"It's okay Irileth! I want to hear what he has to say!" the jarl called out.

The woman only squared her jaw and slowly sheathed her blade stepping out of Rohan's path.

"I've got my eye on you."

He heard her say as he walked past.

Rohan stepped at the foot of the steps where the jarl's throne was perched and nodded his head showing a sign of respect to the jarl's authority, not much of a bow but this was Skyrim, not Cyrodiil so manners of nobility were treated quite differently here.

"What's this about Riverwood being in danger?" Balgruuf spoke a genuine sense of concern in his voice.

"Yes...my jarl," said Rohan. "An attack on a farmstead a few miles east ways happened recently and with Helgen not far from there as well, the villager alderwoman has asked for at least a contingent of guardsmen as a means for defense."

"Ridiculous!" Proventus said, "You think we're gonna spare a complement of soldiers for that little hamlet?!"

"That's not for you to decide steward!" Irileth cut in she was walking steadily to her place back at her jarl's side.

"Listen, I was at Helgen, I've seen a dragon attack first hand. Riverwood would be utterly destroyed if a dragon were to attack there."

Jarl Balgruuf raised a brow. "You were at Helgen huh?"

"Yes, my jarl. I fled to Riverwood in midst the chaos, the villagers there helped me a great deal. If not for them I don't know what I'd do."

"And so you are here." Balgruuf said running his hand through his beard. "Seeking aid for them, a resourceful fellow you seem to be."

"My jarl…" said Irileth briefly cutting in, "We should detachment to Riverwood at once, it is in the utmost danger."

Proventus only looked to his jarl as a means to plead for him to agree. Putting soldiers at Riverwood giving that the proximity of the village is on the border to Falkreath Hold would be most unwise. "The jarl of Falkreath would take this as a provocation! He'll assume we've taken Ulfric's side to attack him we must not….."

"Enough! I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" Balgruuf boomed.

The entire throne room went silent, the jarl only speaking. "Irileth send a detachment to Riverwood at once." the jarl spoke again calmly.

Irileth bowed her head briefly, "Yes my jarl."

Conceding to his defeat Proventus bowed his head stepping away, "If you may, I will return to my duties."

"Yes, that would be best." Balgruuf shooed his steward away, his temper had already flared up for a brief moment earlier and didn't want to be tested again.

"You there…" Balgruuf's attention was then at Rohan. "What are you called?"

"Rohan, my lord."

"You from Helgen Rohan?"

"No sir, Chorrol."

That was surprising being that he was a nord but it confirms where he got that soft southern dialect in his accent from, "Cyrodiil?" Irileth said, "In Skyrim to visit family?"

Rohan shook his head, "No I have no living relatives that I know of, I was orphan as a babe."

"Then what brings you to Skyrim?" Balgruuf asked. A question Rohan himself kept asking.

"To travel I guess, I've never truly got toknow the land of my ancestors." A good enough explanation though Rohan truly felt that that wasn't the exact case.

"Getting to know your homeland ha!" Balgruuf laugh, "I'm guessing you're getting goa od sense of it with all politics and horker shit going on."

"Aye true, I...saw the execution of the stormcloaks, the imperial was just about to execute Ulfric as well."

"So the rumors were true!" Irileth said, "Ulfric was there during the attack!"

"Of course Tullius would leave that out in his official report!" Balgruuf said, "Executing someone without trial? But still I, 'm not surprised Ulfric would be caught up in this."

"We cannot fault Tullius for his desperation my jarl." Proventus spoke sitting at a small table scribbling in his little book. "Ulfric murdered Torygg right in his castle, there no telling what else he was capable of."

"So that justifies Tullius's disregard for imperial custom?" Irileth interjected. "Murderer, rouge, call him whatever he is still a citizen of this Empire and a veteran of her army. And we have laws, codes, tenets. An execution belayed of trail is a rather vulgar display of authoritarianism on Tullius's part and such an act wouldn't quite endear the local nords to his cause. Not to mention it would be quite the acquisition for the stormcloaks."

Proventus raised an eyebrow.

"What she means is that killing Ulfric in such a way would martyr him proving his words about the Empire supposed hold over Skyrim true., a dumb move on Tullius's end." Hrongar said.

"Still" Balgruuf, "We're getting off the main subject matter." He then looked to Rohan.

"As I said before my jarl, a dragon came just moments before...the execution and I fled amongst the chaos." Rohan said. A beat. His mind trailed back on that loathed memory, "I can still see that dreaded sky…" he murmured. "Grey and red, fire and death, around me, in the air."

A cold desolate silence illuminated the room as the people listened to Rohan continue, "Men, women and children screaming. Running out of their blazing homes some covered flames themselves….others desperate to escape, bodies every…"

"It's okay son." Balgruuf raised a hand not wanting to hear another word. "You need not to continue."

Rohan's eyes flashed with sudden realization. "There's also one other thing my jarl." He pulled the sack from his shoulder with a solid thud to the floor.

The jarl and his counsel looked on and watched as the young man pulls out a medium sized stone slab from the burlap. He cradled close enough for them all to see. "What is that?" said Proventus, looking at the rather strange etchings on the slab's face not recognizing the language.

"I have no idea." said Rohan, "But heard that your court wizard is an expert in these type of extremities."

Balgruuf ran his fingers through his beard studying the slab with a squint. "Where did you get this?"

"From Bleak Falls Barrow."

Proventus eyes shot up with disgust and anger, "You went through a nordic tomb?! What in the Oblivion is wrong with you boy?!"

"There's is a strict penalty for such offenders!" Irileth snarled.

"You shame your ancestors by walking into their place of eternal rest!?" Hrongar barked.

"Enough!" Balgruuf said raising his voice a little. "Tell me Rohan." he says now speaking calmly, "Why shame your forefathers walking amongst the honored dead?"

"There were bandits in the tomb. Helping some grave robber." Rohan said. "No doubt having bandits camped so close to Riverwood spelled trouble and with no guard detachment I went to disperse them myself."

"You'd face an entire legion of bandits to help that little hamlet?" scoffed Proventus, not believing a single word.

Rohan looked straight at him, offended. "Given for what they've done for me after Helgen, I'll do anything for them, that's why I'm here."

"He doesn't seem like the grave robbing type." Balgruuf said getting to his feet. The jarl walked up Rohan circling him as he studied the young lad. Tall, muscular, calloused hands shows that he uses them often. "You seem like a man who can handle himself in a fight."

"I was a mercenary in Cyrodiil." Rohan said.

"A sellsword." Irileth snorted to herself, "There's no other kind."

"Hmmm." Balgruuf ran through his beard once more. "I think I can find some use with someone of your particular talents." He then looked his steward and housecarl, "Where is Farengar?"

"Where else would he be?" said Irileth, "Buried in his books and scrolls, experimenting on Azura knows what to be too busy to attend the daily court meeting."

Of course, he is. "Follow me."

Balgruuf lead Rohan away from the rabble of the throne room to an isolated part of the palace main hall where a private office was stationed. The office was separated to a fact that one lonely guard took post at the door. The laggard guardsmen who was once leaning against the wall with eyes near shut, stood abruptly upright in attention as Balgruuf neared the door.

Balgruuf brushed past him entering the office with Rohan following in.

There was barely light in the room as Rohan entered, the only beam of glow resonating from the brazier that bore fire in a corner. Though dim there was light enough to show a disheveled mage's quarters. Walls were lined with books among shelves a mounted troll's skull, a large jar containing a mummified chaurus, a fossilized falmer ears. Along with these oddities were a long desks with scattered notes, ripped book pages, scrolls and to what looks to be the limb of some spriggan with paste of unknown mash spilled about from a mortar evidence of alchemy experiment gone wrong or undone. Philters containing mixes of potions and other strange brews, an enchanting table with unfinished runes and crushed soul gems. One mundane feature of this bedraggled laboratory was the plate of a half eaten bread loaf and goat's cheese, with a cup of near empty alto wine.

"Farengar!" Balgruuf called out. Rohan didn't notice at first due to the dark but then saw a slender man draped in robe turn over to see them. The mage had his attention to a large map of Skyrim's nine holds that posted on a board before him.

Stepping closer to them for Rohan could see his features more, Rohan could saw that the mage was a nord, young possibly the same age as Rohan. Nothing to appealing about except his boney face that his nose slightly peeped out from his hood and the great thick red sideburns that nearly covered his cheeks.

"My jarl!" Farengar says greeting them with a bright smile.

"I think I found someone to help you with your dragon project." Balgruuf said waving his hand to Rohan's direction as the young warrior stepped forward. "This is Rohan he's a survivor of Helgen.." Rohan simply bowed his head as a greeting.

"Ah a new brawny built sellsword you've to send my way it seems." said Farengar folding his arms. Balgruuf noticed the disdain in the mage's tone yet he took no offence, almost that is.

"Forgive me for my idle attempts of academic progress." Balgruuf said mockingly, "But I can't summon your former colleagues from Winterhold by the snap of my fingers contrary to belief ."

Before Farengar could interject Balgruuf looked to Rohan and spoke, "Show him."

On command, Rohan took the sack he was holding from his shoulder and out slid a stone slab that landed on top of Farengar's notes with a thunk.

The mages bushy eyebrows raised in surprise and excitement at once.

"I found this in Bleak Falls." Rohan spoke, "I was told you might know what this is."

"The...the Dragonstone!" gasped Farengar. "The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! How did you...where did you…."

"It would take a while to tell the whole story." said Rohan feeling exhausted by the memories itself.

Farengar begins to scurry around his lab, sliding off papers and books from his desk to make room for the stone then rushing off to look for something on his shelves and cases. "A story I must hear later than." he says, "For now I must conduct the finishes of my little project."

That was Balgruuf's cue to leave for he did not wish to linger on with the mage's queer activities. "Duties to attend." was the reason he stated while taking his leave, Rohan however decidedly remained. He was the one who found the damn slab, and survived that mess Helgen. It seemed his right to see this through and get some answers.

Farengar showed no objection, "Please, sit." he said the mage then went to a small cupboard where it contained bottles but not of potions but of liquor. A private reserve of his. "I know it might be to early but the sun is setting somewhere right?" said Farengar holding a bottle of something of a light mix shade of burgundy and brown. Always happy for a drink, Rohan smiled and nod. Farengar poured him three fingers in a small cup.

It was a delightful taste of brandy when Rohan took a sip. "Colovian." Rohan recognizing the brand.

"Ahhh, someone knows his southern spirits." Farengar said. "Now back to the topic at hand. Bleak Falls Barrow."

Rohan takes another sip of his brandy, nodding his head for Farengar to continue.

"Do you know the legend of it?"

Rohan shook his head, "Can't say I have."

"Well let me ask you another question, do you know of the stories when dragons once ruled these lands."

Rohan looked back to ponder, "I have heard some stories about it, in the ancient times shortly after Ysgramor's conquest that the dragons ruled Skyrim the way tyrants have until they were defeated by the nord tongues."

"Gormlaith, Felldir and Hakon." Farengar said speaking of the ancient nord heroes that fought in what was known to be the Dragon War. "Now during the time of the dragon reign, there were some nords who worshipped the dragons as religious deities, cults. You do know of the dragon priests yes?"

Rohan shook his head as a maybe "Again I'm no history quirk, but I believe I have heard of the term. To the point, if we can." he says to Farengar rushing him. Farengar continued.

"Well those who had to serve the dragons were buried in crypts of their own apart from honored dead, Bleak Falls was one them. And there was one such buried by the name of Skjall the Unyielding. A warrior who served the dragon cults and later keeper of the stone."

"What is the dragonstone exactly?" Rohan asked. Farengar took a beat then quickly went for a book and parchment showing a diagram. "I'm not sure exactly but my hypothesis says its a map."

"A map of what?"

"Dragon burial sites."

"What?"

Farengar sensed the doubt coming from the burly nord. "Now hear me out, what I'm about to share to you is confidential information per say but you did get me the dragonstone and are a survivor of Helgen so…"Rohan raised an eyebrow, doubt still resonating from him.

"I have a colleague you might say that has an inquiry on why dragons are suddenly showing up."

"Go on."

"Well, this colleague believes that dragons aren't coming back like how you would come back from holiday but coming back to life per say."

"Coming back to life?" Rohan said. "Like some necromancy shit?"

"No! Magic is involved yes but not how we would use magic."

"Then how?"

Farengar once again goes to another table, this time getting a piece of paper, showing it to Rohan. It was a detailed sketch of a dragon, its features showed of spiky scales with jagged teeth and deep colored eyes.

"Was this the dragon that attacked Helgen?"

A tinge of fear hallowed within Rohan, he said nothing on blankly staring at the sketch nodding his head.

"This dragon is called the World-Eater. Ever heard of the tales?"

"Alduin?" Rohan said remembering a passage he read on about the Dragon War. The great dragon that lead the other dragons against the rebellious nords."Isn't it said he's Akatosh incarnated or something?"

Farengar looked offended by that question. "What?! No!" he said. "That's just hogwash some so called shit brained imperial priest deduced back in Cyrodiil. The nord legend, the true legend states that he is in fact an essence of Akatosh but not the Divine of Time himself but of that his first born child."

"Child?"

"All dragons are the children of Akatosh. He himself is depicted as a dragon that you should know right?"

"Yes I know he's some sort of spirit dragon. But all and all, the gods are…"

"Not something interesting to you yes." Farengar finished.

"I apologize for ignorance on the subject but I like to learn a thing or to about this." Rohan said, "Perhaps I can watch you conduct your little project or whatever?"

Farengar seemed enthused. "Would you like to?"

"Yes, but to be honest I'm merely waiting for the jarl wrap up his other matters so I can get my reward...and finish your brandy." Rohan says pouring himself another cup.

Farengar sighed but waved it off, "So long as you don't distract me." Rohan raised his cup assuring the mage that he'd be quiet yet observant little scholar to be.


-Whiterun/Western Watchtower

"Roll again!" barked Tor he angrily looked at Tharn and back at the dice on the table.

"You calling me a cheat!?" Tharn says offended.

"A cheat is a merchant who sells you a lame cow for a pouch of rotted wheat, I'm calling you a true son of a whore! Those dice are loaded!" Tor roared.

Tharn says nothing, glaring back at his fellow watchmen with a furrowed brow and simply scoop up the dice with his cup once more, "Seven." he says then slams the cup down.

Tor looked at the dice and smile went on his face, "It's Eight! The gods favor me truly!" He says before childishly dances around. Tharn rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"I've never seen someone so happy in winning two septims." spoke the lead watchman Hroki, he was looking through a window testing out his new spyglass.

"That's enough for him a to buy half a tankard at the Mare." Tharn laughed.

"Going to the Bannered Mare for any reason is always good." Tor says with a giggle.

Tharn nods his head nonchalantly cleaning up the dice for another round, "The ale's not bad there."

"He's not talking about the ale." Hroki says giggling fiendishly.

Tharn halts in shaking the cup, devilish smile paints across his face, "Let me guess, Olfinia?"

"Gray-Mane? She's fine looking and all but I'd rather not deal with that family of hers." said Tor. "It's that redguard lass, the one that started working the tables last summer."

"Saadia. Hur-hur." Hroki chuckled. "Her name sounds like a desert flower."

"She got quite the curve if you know what I mean." Tharn laughed, back to his game he went. "Four."

"A woman like that don't need to be laboring mead in some inn." said
Tor shaking his cup, "She needs a man. Six" he called out.

Their cups slam down, "What you?" said Tharn, he wins. "You already have a wife."

"Shut it!" Tor spat.

"I know what I got my eyes on." says Hroki. The other two set their dice once again.

"If its Carlotta I'm already going to tell you, don't waste your time." says Tharn, "Half of the garrison already tried, that woman would set your straight before you can says hello, six."

"I call." says Tor irritated.

"I was thinking Ysolda." said Hroki turning to them.

"I hear she likes cats." said Tharn. He and Tor slam down their cups.

"So?" says Tor, "My daughter has a cat. What lass doesn't?"

"He means Khajiit you dolt!" said Hroki. "And that's just a rumour. Not like there's any in the city for her romp with."

"There outside the gates where all those refugees camped at." said Tor, he and Tharn reveal their dice where Tharn wins again. Tor slams a fist on the table, "Gods damn you!"

"I thought you said they favor you." Tharn says with a sinister grin.

"You've enchanted them! Use some magic or something!" Tor accuses.

The youngest of the watch Ari enters the tower after the patrolling the outer bailey with the other guards.

"Ignore those two blobtits." says Hroki regarding Tor and Tharn who were now arguing. "Out to the top?"

Ari nods his head, "Aye sir, its quiet on the southern side of the bailey."

"This is the western tower lad." said Hroki with a laugh, clasping the boy's shoulder "Everything is quiet here. When you head up there tell old bastard Leif that he's to do logistics for tonight's watch."

"Yes sir." says Ari with a smile.

"Take this." Hroki hands Ari his spyglass, "You can give it back to me when I head to up to take your watch."

"Th..thanks sir!" stammers Ari, taken aback by the lead watchman's kindness.

"Hroki please, you're not at Whitewatch, there's no need for military banter." said Hroki patting Ari's shoulder again before seeing him off.

Atop the tower, the air was much more arid and cool. There the lone watch man Leif, a rusty veteran of the guard leans a bit back in his chair near sleep. Ari sees the old man dozing off and coughs a little loudly to wake him.

Leif stutters up, "Huh...what?!"

"It's my turn to take watch." said Ari timidly, Leif grumbles to himself as he sits up in his chair.
"Also" continued Ari, "Captain Hroki says you're to tally rations for tonight's watch."

"PAH!" Leif spat, "Wants to make sure we have enough mead for them to drink themselves stupid." He grumbles getting to his feet. "I've been in the guard longer than Hroki and the rest of them, what kind of captain is he?!" he begins dusting off the small flakes of crumbs from an earlier snack of bread along with fixing his armor. "I told Caius that I was fit for the front at Whitewatch but what does that damned imperial know!?"

Ari decided to interject, "To be honest." he says, "Why would anyone want to be at Whitewatch tower? It's on the border with enemy territory." Ari spoke to true to the notion. Whitewatch tower was a garrison on the border to the Pale, Jarl Skald of Dawnstar's territory an avowed supporter of Ulfric. Rebel movements are frequent in that region and so were a few imperial skirmishes reported. Thus Jarl Balgruuf appointed a full military garrison, wanting tight control upon that border, limiting refugee migration (though some still managed to pass) as well as imperial and or stormcloak envoys.

"You're young and stupid so I doubt you'll understand." said Leif. He glances at the young boy and kind of almost felt a small sense of regret of insulting him by the look of the lad's now dampened face. Leif sighed, "I've lost count of the years I've been serving the Hold, during the Great War I was injured in a skirmish at the during the first bouts with the Thalmor therefore I missed most of it. When I recovered I joined the guard, hoping to lead small squads to dispatch bandits or what not.

But instead...it hasn't been most fulfilling. Now here we have this damn civil war and instead of fighting I'm wasting with what years I have left watching merchants travel from the south while guards drink and play games."

"Yeah I know how you feel." said Ari. Leif looked to him bewildered.

"Well, I understand that is." Ari corrected. "Both of my brothers joined the legion and are fighting in the war, just as our da did to fight the elves, except he died in the fighting. My ma didn't want me joining the army but I didn't want to sit at home and do nothing while our homeland is in chaos. So I joined the guard, she still doesn't like it but here at the Western Watchtower things are simple and I tell her not to worry."

Leif nods coming to understanding as well. "This war is killing the young and foolish, perhaps I shouldn't be so foolish as well." he begins to walk off, "Well I better get started on…."

A loud wail echoed from the sky that cause both Leif and Ari to halt. Utter silence beckons, nothing but wind shaking the trees were heard.

"What was that?" Ari says, he looked to Leif and judging by the old guard's wrinkled stoned face he could tell that Leif heard it too. "A mammoth maybe?"

"That didn't sound like a mammoth." said Leif coldly.

Ari looked to the guards who patrolling the ramparts below, none seemed unfazed. "Or maybe it was just-

A roar echoes loud as if something was coming towards them. That caused the guards below to stop in the tracks and look up to see where that noise was coming from.

Leif snatches the spyglass from Ari's person and looked through it towards the sky through a thin layer of clouds to upon where he sees a great flying shadow looming and growing larger as if something was coming towards them, his face once stern and hallow now morphed into utter fear. "Sound the horn...now." he says in a low deep tone.

"Wha….what is it?!" Ari stutters.

"SOUND THE DAMN HORN!"

A much louder roar hallows out, Ari then suddenly looked up in time to see the great winged beast flies over. Snatching his horn from the belt of his tunic and blows loud. Signaling the alarm of an attack.