Author's note:
I have now realized why a lot of authors here in usually update in 1-2 week increments.. I can actually write a chapter in less than two days.. but for the next 3-4 days, I keep having ideas to add to or change what I have already written.. This leads to my first two chapters changing so many times that more often than not, what you've read one day will be different two days after.
So now I have decided to adopt the weekly chapter update model, maybe sometimes skipping a week if I can't make it in time. This will hopefully reduce the number of overhauls that I make to any chapter that I upload. That said, what I've previously said regarding this fic being in a state of 'permanent beta' still applies.. if I think of something (or someone else suggests it) to improve the quality of the fic or to make it more canon-compliant, I will make changes.. Oh, and updates will be on Sundays.
If you have been reading this since the beginning, I ask that you reread the first two chapters again as I have made considerable changes to them.. most especially chapter one. I can promise you though that this will be the last time I will do major overhauls to posted chapters in a long while.
I had originally planned this chapter to include the actual execution but I felt that it was better to stop where this chapter ends.
Lastly, if anyone finds a typo, please tell me. I write this fic mainly from my iPhone so it's hard for me to catch them all.
A Sleeping Dragon
Chapter Three - The Road to Helgen
General Tullius - commander of the Imperial Fourth Legion, and military governor of Skyrim - was lost in thought.
The Imperial Legions have been, for the majority of the previous age, the dominant military power in the continent of Tamriel - and perhaps, even in the whole of Nirn as well. The Legions - though they weren't called that at the time - were what allowed the great emperor, Tiber Septim to succesfully unite all of Tamriel into a single empire. And it was also the Legions who - with help from the legendary Champion of Cyrodiil - fought and defeated the daedra invasion in the Oblivion Crisis centuries past.
But the Third Age was over, and it was now the Fourth. The Septim bloodline had died out and the Empire and its Legions were past their prime. Nevertheless, they remain one of the most disciplined and well-trained military force in the continent. After all, it was the Legions who - against overwhelming odds - managed to fight the Thalmor of the Alderi Dominion to a stalemate in the Great War.
The war with the Aldmeri Dominion - or simply, the Great War - had been fought at a great disadvantage. The sneaky pointy eared bastards had been planning it for years no doubt. A surprise assault from multiple fronts and the Thalmor had nearly taken the Imperial City - had in fact, held it for a few weeks. But the Legions were not out of the fight yet. Under the leadership of the Emperor Titus Mede II and the generals Jonna and Decianus, the Legions managed to drive out the invaders and give the empire the bargaining chips it needed for a peace treaty.
The White-Gold Concordat.
Which leads us to here and now, in this place and at this time - in bloody freezing Skyrim and in the middle of this thrice-cursed civil war. And General Tullius - general commander of the Fourth Legion - wasn't sent here to think about history lessons.
This war, in his most humble opinion, was the stupid result of a stupid decision made by a stupid fool in response to a stupid decision made by a usually smart man.. With both sides dancing in the palms of some very smug elven bastards.
'We call it the Great War, those Thalmor bastards call it the First War, ha!'
The general had been having a good week. When the aforementioned stupid fool had been captured two days ago, Tullius had been hoping he could bring about a swift end to the rebellion. It had certainly been good for the morale of his troops. Perhaps the empire could now begin preparations for the inevitable second war with the Aldmeri Dominion.
Vorenus has been the general's most able and trusted lieutenant and had been with him since he first took charge of the Fourth Legion. When the emperor requested one of his officers to serve as a temporary advisor to the Penitus Ocilatus - special agents entrusted with the emperor's protection, - it had made sense to volunteer him. No doubt it would open up even more doors to the Legate's already promising career.
When his forces had succeeded in capturing Ulfric, they had decided to expedite Vorenus's trip to the capital. It was the perfect ruse. Nearly all of Skyrim knew that the emperor's cousin, Lady Vittoria Vici was getting married in a few months. And no doubt, Stormcloak spies already knew about Vorenus's upcoming trip to escort the emperor himself to Skyrim. Noone would suspect that his lieutenant would be bringing a special guest to the capital. Even so, they had to be quick and act before word of the rebel leader's capture could get out.
But apparently, they weren't quick enough. And the Stormcloaks had a better espionage network than he had assumed.
There was a particularly loud argument happening inside the general's tent. The remaining two of the general's lieutenants were having an intense debate regarding their future course of action while General Tullius himself seemed to be lost on thought. Hadvar did what any good soldier of the empire was trained to do in such situations. Hadvar stood at attention.
"I ask again, what is wrong with simply executing him, right here! Right now!" said Legate Dion Valerius. He was the second son of the somewhat influential House Valerius. The family had wanted one of their own to hold an officer's position in the Skyrim campaign. They had managed to get Dion into the relatively safe and out-of-the-front-lines position as head of the general's personal guard. This fact effectively makes him Hadvar's immediate superior.
"And give the Stormcloaks more of a reason to fight!? These are Nords we are dealing with, my people.. There must be a trial!" argued Legate Rikke. She was the only female Legate in the Fourth Legion, and the only Nord among the general's three lieutenants. This had, from the beginning, led her to be at-odds with Legate Dion - who views both females and non-Imperials to be inferior.
"Then we make a clean work of it." replied Dion. "No one need ever know-"
"There is no honor in this!" exclaimed Rikke.
"I have to agree with Sir Valerius on this." interjected Legate Skulnar. He was the regional commander assigned to Falkreath Hold. He was getting tired of just being in the background of this argument. He was a Legate too, after all. "I am a Nord, just as you are Rikke.. but the attack demonstrates that the Stormcloaks already know where Ulfric is. It is far too risky to move him anywhere else."
"See? Even your fellow Nords agree!"
"But-"
"Enough!" the general had been roused from his thoughtful mood. "Skulnar has a valid point. This war has gone on long enough and we have to take whatever measures that present themselves to end it."
It seems the argument was over.
"Dion, you handle the preparations.. Skulnar, Rikke, I know this goes against what your culture dictates, and I won't ask you to stay. But we have no choice."
Legate Dion Valerius gave a smart salute and proceeded out of the tent.
"Hadvar, follow me!"
And Hadvar followed.
"Skulnar, return to Falkreath but do not inform Jarl Siddgeir of today's events just yet. Rikke, go with him and wait for me.. tomorrow, we head back to Solitude."
Tullius breathed a sigh of relief when the legates have gone. This sudden change of plans will thankfully have little effect on the future. Soon, this war will be over and he can finally get out of this frozen backwards province. He looked towards the Throat of the World. From this distance, you can barely see the peak of the mountain.
For a moment, he could have sworn he heard a roar.
It was two hours after noon.
It can almost never mean anything good when one wakes up not remembering where one is nor how one got there. And it most certainly cannot mean anything good when one finds that his hands are very tightly and very securely tied to the other.. Unless of course, one was into THAT kind of thing.
Knut was most certainly not into THAT kind of thing. He more than likely has no idea what THAT kind of thing even was. There were no shrines to Dibella - of THAT kind, anyway - anywhere near Kvatch.
And so Knut found himself waking up to a situation very few men - and women - would want to find themselves in. His head still hurt from when Markus the Brave so dashingly bashed it over with his shield. Knut did not know that of course, but his head still hurts nonetheless.
"Curse you Stormcloaks! I would have been halfway to Hammerfell if it wasn't for you!" cried Lokir the thief.
"Curse us, horse-thief? Curse us? We who fight for Skyrim's freedom?" replied Ralof. "You'd best watch your tongue! Your actions have cost us a lot this day!"
Ralof did not know what went wrong. Had not his god, Talos, chosen him for this task? Was not his Lord the true and rightful High King of Skyrim.. How could divinely ordained task such as his be foiled by the ignorant actions of one insugnificant thief.
"Skyrim was fine before you came along.. Empire was nice and lazy.."
'Ah, the rebels..' Knut could barely think. Judging from his binds and his present company, he had been captured. The second worst thing had happened - the worst being, of course, death. All that hard work trying to be unseen had been for naught. Not-very-Nord Knut very much wanted to cry.
"Ah, you're awake friend.. I don't recognize you.. Were you trying to cross the border?" Apparently, the rebel had noticed he was awake.
'No, no, no! Don't call me friend, you don't even recognize me right? So please don't call me friend! The driver can hear you! Are you stupid?! You'll get me hanged!' Knut wanted to say. His head was still in pain, so he barely managed with a nod.
"You there, you and me.. We're not supposed to be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Imperials want!" Lokir was panicking now.
"We're all brothers in binds now, thief." was Ralof's somber reply.
"Shut up back there!"
The prisoners were getting on Markus the Brave's nerves. There should be a law that made it illegal for prisoners to keep yapping and yapping throughout the trip.
The rest of the trip was spent in silence..
It was three hours after noon.
General Tullius's hands were shaking.. they itched to draw his sword.
'Why now?' he thought.
The Thalmor were here. Word of Ulfric's capture had spread out faster than they expected. It would seem that there really is no choice but to end this here and now.
It took all of General Tullius's willpower to not take his sword and skewer the arrogant elves before him. He made do with simply keeping his hand on the hilt.. just in case.
"We have been made aware that your forces have managed to capture the leader of the Stormcoak rebellion. Is this true?" There were only two of them. Surely no one would notice if two basta- *erm* gentlemen were to suddenly disappear. The roads of Skyrim can sometimes be dangerous to lone travellers. Especially during this war.
"Yes. It is." Tullius tried to clear his head of all malevolent intentions - but the general still had no intention of giving the bastards any information that could be of any use. His hand remained on the sword.
"Then we have to inquire as to why our embassy had not been informed of this matter immediately." One of the basta- *erm* gentlemen said. Which one, the general couldn't tell.
"I fail to see how this issue would affect the Aldmeri Dominion. This is purely an internal military matter, and I would prefer to keep it as such." the general replied.
He looked to the sun. It was the middle of the month of Hearthfire and the sun was sitting at a roughly thirty degree angle from the horizon, sitting roughly above the border of Cyrodiil and Hammerfell. The general now knew.. It was three hours in the afternoon. And he had somewhere around two hours to get rid of these bastards before the rest of Vorenus's unit arrived.
'Gentlemen, Tullius, not bastards... gentlemen.." He chastised himself.
"General, surely you understand that the Dominion holds great interest in the fates of these heretics.. and especially their leader. We understand that you are planning an execution this afternoon. We insist that we stay here to witness as representatives of the Dominion." the two elven agents spoke in tandem.. Tullius couldn't tell when one stopped and the other picked it up. Somehow, this made them even more annoying. His hand tightened it's grip on his sword.
'That damn Valerius can't keep his mouth shut.' The general gave the request some thought though.'There really isn't anything these two can do to ruin the operation.. and surely they are even more for Ulfric's death than we are. And I cannot have an international incident right now.'
"Very well gentlemen, they should be here shortly."
Tullius's hand was hurting now.
It was still three hours after noon.
Hope makes the world go round - or wait, was it love.. Well, hope did something good for the world- and hope was what Knut was desperately searching for at the moment. Love, and all others, will have to wait.
A thought had been prodding him ever since he woke up, and Knut, having nothing much to do, had eventually taken to giving it some attention. The leather sack that had contained most of his gold and belongings had evidently been left near the boulder where he had been hiding that morning. There was no hope there. The only consolation was that he still had the small leather pouch he keeps hidden inside his pants - safest place there is. The small leather pouch that held a handful of gold coins and the ashes of his parents, a few pinches each - at least part of them will have joined him in his journey.
'Mother, Father.. Well, We're in Skyrim.. What now?!'
Surely the Imperials would be reasonable. He would simply explain his situation!.. He would even have the thief and the two rebels as witnesses! The imperials would send someone to his rock to find his belongings and all his paperwork.. And he can even give them some gold! A good bribe never fails, after all.
Knut had found hope. It was all going to work out.
About half an hour had passed since Markus the Brave had so fearlessly scolded the prisoners into silence. Lokir couldn't stand it.. Some people need an outlet when stressed - and for Lokir, it was blaming others and asking questions. Having already blamed the Stormcloaks for this predicament, he decided to work on the second one.
"What's wrong with this guy?" he asked, gesturing to the gagged rebel sitting beside Knut.
"You've yet to learn to watch your tongue, thief! This is Ulfric Stormcloak, the true and rightful High King!" replied Ralof.
"Ulfric!? The Jarl of Windhelm?" asking questions didn't do much good for Lokir's stress levels this time. "You're the leader of the rebellion.. if they've caught you - oh gods - Where are they taking us?"
"Where ever it is we're going.. Sovngarde awaits.."
Knut didn't know much about Nord culture. But he knew where Sovngarde was. He knew that the jarl had been here, but he didn't realize how dire his situation was.
'Gods, This can't be happening, this is NOT happening'
Still, Knut held on to hope.
Another half hour of silence passed.
"What village are you from horse-thief?" Ralof broke the silence.
"Why so you care?!" snapped the thief. He was still panicking. The prospect of death does that to most people.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." was all Ralof had to say. Even Knut had to think about that.
That had somehow calmed Lokir. "Rorikstead. I am Lokir of Rorikstead."
"Ralof of Riverwood. What about you stranger?" Ralof looked to Knut now.
"My name Knut.. I'm from Kvatch." Knut volunteered. He was still a Nord after all.
"From Cyrodiil! Well friend, I can see you are no soldier.. the jarl and I will vouch for your non-involvement from these matters." Ralof replied. Ulfric could only grunt. Those who knew him well would be able to tell that it was a grunt of affirmation. Knut did not know the Jarl of Windelm very well, so he'd just have to take Ralof's word for it.
Knut didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. What did he mean 'I can see you are no soldier', Knut worked very hard to stay in shape - thank you very much! And swinging a sword cannot be that much different to swinging a hoe or a sickle.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh.. Divines, please help me!" they heard Lokir mutter.
"Ha!" Knut couldn't help himself. "I've already tried that."
"Didn't I tell you guys to shut up back there!"
Markus the Brave couldn't take it anymore. The prisoners persist on getting on his nerves. He boldly jumped to the back of the cart and proceeded to honorably gag each and everyone of the noisy little bastards - everything Markus the Brave does was honorable.
And once again, there was silence.. And what little hope Knut had, was slipping away from his grasp.
It was four hours after noon.
Knut imagined, just for a moment, that he could hear a roar from somewhere above the clouds.
end Chapter Three
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