Chapter 2: Lost
Tyradus rode the white horse for more than eight long hours before stopping for the night. He opened a bag tied to the horse's saddle, grabbed the book inside and climbed off.
Fredas, 17th of Last Seed
Just two days ago, I was wrongfully captured by the Imperial Legion while leaving Cyrodiil. I was mistaken to be with the Stormcloak rebels and sentenced to death. Just before I was executed, I used my... uh, special power to knock the headsman down, right before his axe came down on my throat. I used my magic to free myself and take down the Imperials that were trying to kill me. But, I think that the leader of Skyrim's division of the Legion, General Tullius, escaped, as I didn't see his body lying anywhere. It went better than it could have. I didn't want to destroy the legion, just to free myself. I freed all of the Stormcloak prisoners, including their leader, Ulfric Stormcloak and stole a horse to get to safety. I found this journal in a bag, tied to the horse's saddle. It apparently belonged to one of the Imperial soldiers. I just ripped out the pages of his journal. I ended up reading a few paragraphs for some reason. The soldier's life must be hard on them all. I've always envied the Imperial Legion's soldiers, but I'm beginning to rethink that.
-Tyradus Free-Winter
Tyradus closed the journal. He set it down beside him. Luckily, the horse also had a packed bed roll attached to its saddle. He laid out the bed roll, climbed inside and did his best to fall asleep.
After hours of falling in and out of a light sleep, Tyradus got up early the next morning, before the crack of dawn. His body felt half frozen. Even his Nord blood couldn't protect him from the frost of Skyrim. He had gotten used to the much warmer climate of Cyrodiil, and it was a hard transition going back home.
"Ugh! There's no way I can sleep outside. I need to find a town, or an Inn, at least. I guess I should just pack up and go. I won't last long out here."
Tyradus rolled up his sleeping bag and grabbed his new journal. He saw his horse was still sleeping.
"Wake up, horse!" Tyradus shouted. The horse, seeming perfectly content in such cold weather, opened its eyes and whinnied at him, standing up. Tyradus put his newly found journal in the bag that was still tied to the saddle. He reattached the bed roll, mounted the steed and spurred it on.
His horse went slower than it had the night before. It was still drowsy since it hadn't had time to wake up properly.
After two hours of riding, the sun had finally risen. Tyradus welcomed the warmth of the sun, compared to the deep cold of the night. He was relieved when he finally rode up into a small village.
"According to the signs, this must be Karthwasten..."
Tyradus rode up, and saw a group of people arguing. On one side was a Breton dressed in nice clothes, who was obviously outraged. Across was a group of armor-clad Nords. Their leader seemed much more calm than the Breton.
"Ainethach, why won't you just sell the damn mine?" The armored Nord in front asked. "The Silver-Bloods just want to protect it from the Forsworn, and they only ask a small fee for their services."
"I won't let you force me out of my village! Get out of my sight! Now!" The Breton shouted so loudly that the mercenaries backed up a few steps.
"The Silver-Bloods have given you a very generous offer for this pile of dirt. I suggest you take it. I'll give you some more time to think it over."
The mercenaries retreated into a mine, near the village.
"Damn snow-backs!" The Breton muttered to himself. He went back to a porch and sat down on a bench.
Tyradus dismounted his horse and approached the Breton.
"What exactly was that about?" Tyradus asked.
The Breton looked up. "Another Nord? Let me guess- you're trying to buy the mine to 'protect it from Forsworn?'"
"I'm just a lost traveler, Breton. A lost, hungry, tired traveler. I could just use some help."
"I've no time to help you, traveler. I've got problems of my own. I'm trying to keep my village safe. When the Forsworn aren't attacking us, the Nords are trying to force us off the land. I can't give up my home to them, but they're too persistent!"
"I've no idea what on Nirn you're talking about, but, look, maybe if you tell me, I can help you. I'll help you, then you can help me, okay?"
"I doubt you can do anything about it, traveler, but, I'll accept any possible help I can get. Here in the Reach, there's a huge market for silver, and an abundance of silver ore. I own one of the many sliver mines, which just happens to be right next to my small town. The most influential family in The Reach, the Silver-Bloods, have sent mercenaries to try and buy the mine. They obviously aren't taking no for an answer, either. When their leader said he'll give me 'more time to think about it,' he means 'Another two hours until they kill us all.' I don't want to leave my home. I need them gone."
"Well, that sounds easy enough. I know how to convince a sell-sword to do anything. Just give me a few minutes, and I can coax them away."
Tyradus entered the mine. It was much larger than he had expected, and had vasts amounts of silver deposits. He heard the mercenaries speaking in another room.
"I don't care about this stupid town!" Their leader shouted. "If that stubborn oaf won't sell, then we should just burn the village and kill them all!"
"Atar, the Silver-Bloods are paying us to get the full village. We're already getting paid little as it is. If we just destroy the place, I doubt we'll even get 100 Septims!"
Tyradus walked in. They were all sitting at a small table they had put out, drinking. He saw bottles of Black-Briar mead littering the floor around them.
"I want you all to leave this village alone," Tyradus stated. The mercenaries stared at him, expecting him to say more.
"And?" One mercenary asked.
"That's it. I want you to leave the Bretons alone and leave the village. Now."
"I'm not sacrificing a paycheck because some whelp told me to quit a job!" Atar shouted. "Now, I suggest you leave. Before this gets bloody. We'll have the village, one way or another."
"I don't know what those bloody-silver or whatever their name is people are paying you, but I can make this worth your while."
Tyradus took a small ring off of his finger and put it on the table. Atar picked it up.
"What is this?" Atar asked.
"My ring," Tyradus responded. "It's one of the only things that wasn't confiscated when I was arrested. It's a gold ring with a diamond setting. Easily worth 900 Septims, at least."
"Wow! This is twice as much as the Silver-Bloods were gonna pay us! Fine, we'll leave this stupid dirt pile and find other work. We'll be gone by midnight."
"Thank you," Tyradus said, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Atar shouted.
"What is it now?!"
"Why would you give us this if you don't even live here?"
"I couldn't care less about that thing. I stole it in Cyrodiil as a child. Now, I have to go."
He returned to Ainethach.
"The mercenaries are clearing out. Mission accomplished. Can you just tell me how in Oblivion I get to Whiterun now? I'm in a hurry."
"You actually got those Snow-backs to leave? Thank the Divi-"
"Look, Breton. I need to get to Whiterun. Quickly. I have something that needs to be taken care of. Can you just give me simple directions home?!"
"Alright, Nord. You just take that road straight until you see a fork in the road. Take the right path. It's just straight from there. Watch out for the Forsworn on your way."
"Okay, this has seriously been bothering me. Who are the Forsworn, and why must I watch out for them?"
"The Forsworn are a group of idiotic Bretons who think they can liberate the reach for High Rock. They attack anyone that doesn't join them. And since they're all Bretons, the Nords group us all together. The Nords think I'm working for the Forsworn, and the Forsworn think I'm working for the Nords. Everyone's out to get me these days."
"Good luck with that. Now, I have to go. Be seeing you, Aine... tack?"
Tyradus mounted the Imperial horse and rode off, on his way to Whiterun.
After an hour of dreadfully boring riding, Tyradus had nearly made it out of the Reach. His horse trotted along the trail. Tyradus was half asleep. That's when his horse began to buck, and threw him off. Tyradus slammed onto the ground. He had trouble sitting up to see what had happened. His horse was on the ground, with a wooden arrow through its neck. It had died. He heard a voice in the distance.
"Filthy Nord. Prepare to die!"
His head jerked in the voice's direction. A man, dressed in fur armor, with an animal's head as a helmet had his bow loaded with an arrow, ready to fire. He let go of the string. The arrow struck Tyradus in the shoulder.
Damn! Tyradus thought. I'm not ready for battle! I have to get out of here somehow! Wait- Illusion!
Tyradus was now surrounded by the Forsworn warriors. They all had weapons drawn.
"Stand, Nord! And face your death!"
Tyradus stood, and readied his spell. The Forsworn rushed to him and began to swing their weapons. Before they could land a single hit, Tyradus cast the Harmony spell.
Every Forsworn warrior stopped in their tracks.
"What's going on?" One asked.
"Who are you?" A woman pointed at Tyradus.
"That's not important now, Breton. What IS important is that the spell won't last long, and I need to get out of here!"
Tyradus cast his invisibility spell and ran off. The Forsworn regained their memory within 30 seconds. By then, Tyradus was far enough so that they had no clue he was even near.
Ah, Illusion. My favorite school of magic, other than restoration, at least.
It took nearly three hours on foot, but after a long journey, the town finally came into sight.
"By the Nine..." Tyradus whispered to himself. "That's it! Dragonsreach! I've nearly made it home! After ten years, I'm finally going to see my family again!"
A new sense of hope filled his body. Ever since he had crossed the border into Skyrim, nothing good had happened. This made it all better. He continued on his journey toward home.
After another two hours, Tyradus had finally made it. He approached the gate into the city, or as far as he was concerned, the gate into his childhood.
"Halt," The guard at the gate commanded. Tyradus recognized the guard instantly, as he didn't wear a helmet. "What business do you have in Whiterun? If you're an Imperial or Stormcloak soldier, the Jarl isn't interested in any of your offers."
"Do I look like a soldier to you, Fjori?" Tyradus asked sarcastically. "You don't remember me, do you?"
"How do you know my name?"
"I'm that kid you busted nearly 14 years ago for stealing a Sweetroll from Ysolda."
"Doesn't ring a bell, citizen. I've no idea what you're talking about."
"After that, you gave me a four-hour lecture on how many ways a guard could kill me for stealing."
"Wait a minute... Tyradus? Tyradus Free-Winter?! Stendarr's mercy, I haven't seen you in over a decade! Eager to see your family again, I presume?"
"You presume correctly, Fjori. Now, can you just let me in?! I'm starving!"
"Go on in, Tyradus. Hey, how about you meet me at the Bannered Mare around ten tonight, after my shift's over? We could have a few drinks, and catch up."
"I'll be there, Fjori. Thanks."
Tyradus knocked on the door to his old house, breezehome. A large, gray-haired man answered.
"Engar Free-Winter?" Tyradus asked. "A member of the Companions?"
"That's correct. Who are you?" The man asked. He scratched his big, dirty beard.
"It's me, father! Your son, Tyradus!"
"T- Tyradus? I can't believe it's you! It's been more than-"
"Yes, yes, a decade. I know, father. May I come in now?"
"Of course, son. Have a seat. Malene! Aeta! Tyradus is home!"
"Tyradus? Is he really here?" Tyradus's mother, Malene came rushing into the room. "By the gods! It really is you, son! It's been much to long since we've spoken!"
"Mother, I wrote you a letter at least once a week. Wasn't that enough for you?"
Before Malene had time to answer, Tyradus's 15-year old sister, Aeta walked in.
"So, this is Tyradus?" She asked. "My big brother?! Is it true you killed three wolves all by yourself when you were five?"
Tyradus scoffed, "That's right. I did it with father's old steel dagger. I did earn a few scars on the arm, though."
"Wait!" Engar shouted. "Where is Kh'aaru? Shouldn't he be with you?"
"Well, that's the thing, father... It's a long story, but I guess now's a good time to tell it. Before we crossed the border, Kh'aaru decided to take a different route, so he wouldn't be hassled by the guards at the gates for being a Khajiit. I got over pretty easily, until I was ambushed by Imperial guards. They thought I was traveling with a group of Stormcloak soldiers and sentenced me to death along with the ones they caught. I had to... kill all of the Imperial guards. I freed all of the Stormcloaks they had captured, including their leader, Ulfric. I stole an Imperial horse that got killed on the way, and now I'm here. Kh'aaru agreed to meet me in Riften once I made it past the gates, but I'm so late that he's probably left by now."
Engar sighed, "I knew there would come a day when Skyrim's problems would find you two as well. I don't care who wins this war, honestly. I just want this damn civil conflict to end! I would join a side, but I'm just getting too old."
"It's fine, father. This will end, eventually. Let's just drop the subject for now. If Kh'aaru waits too long, he'll probably come home. For now, let's just have dinner."
Malene and Aeta set out dinner for everyone.
"It looks great!" Tyradus said as he sat down. "Hey, uh, pass me the grilled leeks. And, the baked potatoes. Oh, and, uh, how about some of the venison stew? Hey, are those sweet rolls?"
When dinner eventually ended, everyone was still hungry, other than Tyradus.
"Thank you, everyone!" Tyradus stated, standing up. "But, I have to get to the Bannered mare. Fjori and I were going to catch up over a few drinks."
Tyradus walked out the door.
"Sometimes I wonder how he can be so relaxed," Engar said, confused. "Especially with blood like ours..."
"What do you mean 'blood like ours?'" Malene asked.
"It's nothing you need to worry about, Malene."
Aeta was utterly confused on what was going on.