Chapter 6

A few days later, Ahmes decided it was time to head out to Whiterun, and tell the Jarl of his experience in the battle against the Shadow. If he told the Jarl about it and proved that he was the last survivor, hopefully the Jarl will take notice and do something about it. I have to try at least, he thought, I owe it to all the people lost their lives to the Shadow. Alvor and his wife had packed a few pounds of venison for his trip, and he was given multiple sets of clothes to last him the journey. He had his pack strapped to his back, a bow on his shoulder, and a sword hung on his hip. He now stood facing the family and a few friends that had helped him recover the past week, and he knew that he had make some new friends that would last a lifetime. "Well, I guess this is it. I really can't thank you enough, you all have done so much for me," Ahmes said as he looked at each of them with a hint of remorse and gratitude in his voice. "It should be us who is thanking you for helping us with that frost troll, without your help, we would be starving for weeks," Alvor said as he grasped Ahmes' hand in a strong handshake. "It was nothing, anyone would've done the same in my position, besides killing that troll was only possible through everyone's efforts," he said with a smile while looking back at Dorthe for a moment. He then turned to Sigrid, "Thank you for helping me get back on my feet, without your help, I might still be weak in that bed," Ahmes said as Sigrid gave him a gentle hug. He then turned to Frodnar, "Hey, look after Dorthe, she's a handful," Ahmes said as Dorthe yelled at him, pretending to be offended. Frodnar scoffed, "Didn't need you to tell me that," he replied as Dorthe slapped him in the back of the head. They all laughed as Frodnar grasped Ahmes' arm with a mutual respect, "Take care of yourself out there," he said in a serious tone. Ahmes broke out into a big grin as he nodded enthusiastically. Ahmes then turned to Dorthe and smiled warmly, "Hey, make sure to-," Ahmes was interrupted as Dorthe pulled him into a giant bear hug and he squeezed back as tightly as he could. "Be safe," she said softly. He nodded with tears in his eyes while she pulled away and pulled out a large brown sack in front of her. "I almost forgot to give you this. I told you that I would make you my greatest masterpiece. I finally finished it last night," she said as she handed the brown sack to Ahmes, "Go on, open it," she said, excited about what was inside the sack. Ahmes carefully removed the old, brown sack to reveal a one handed steel sword. This particular sword was the most finely crafted steel Ahmes had ever laid eyes on. The steel shined in the sunlight as it was newly made. Ahmes moved it closer to his face to get a better look at it. This sword had rugged designs on the bottom edge, and the hilt appeared to be made of fine wood, with metal woven into it. The base of the blade had complex line patterns, with some dark grey areas. In the middle of the blade, a language Ahmes had never seen before was inscribed into the blade. "What does it say?" he asked while trying to figure out what language it was written in. "It was supposed to say, 'No matter how far apart we may be, I will be right beside you' in the ancient Nordic Language, but the stupid translator messed it up," she said before being engulfed by a bear hug. Ahmes never had anyone do something so nice for him. He could tell the blade had been made to be just as strong as elven metal, and that was no easy task. As he pulled away, his eyes began to teat up, but he quickly wiped them away with his arm before they could travel down his face. He unsheathed his sword, inspecting the craftsmanship. He then sheathed his new sword in his scabbard after reading the inscription again before giving his old sword to Dorthe, 'Qeb Aoxdlkylok fp xifsb.' "Here, this sword was the sword I used in the fight against the Shadow. Now you have the only sword to ever see the Shadow and come back," he said as tears threatened to come down Dorthe's eyes as he handed her the old, worn blade. "I really don't know what to say besides, thank you, all of you. I will never forget any of you," he said with a wide smile decorating his face. He made a deep inhale as he turned around and made his way forward. He looked back every couple of steps and saw them waving goodbye. With each step, his will to move forward lessened and his desire to stay increased. The only thing that stopped him was his resolve to get to Whiterun, and he would be damned if they saw him be a coward now. He started to run forward, awaiting anything that came his way now. While Ahmes' figure became smaller in the distance, Dorthe turned to her father, "Do you think we should've let him borrow a horse?"

He had absolutely no idea what to do. Surrounding him was a pack of wolves with stomachs that told him that they haven't had anything to eat for a while. It had to be wolves, he thought as he slashed his sword at one of the wolves that tried to pounce on him. Ok one down, four to go. The wolves ran around him, ready to attack any opening he gave them. He made sure to keep his attention on all their movements, knowing one mistake meant death. One wolf got behind him and attempted to bite at his leg. Ahmes anticipated this and jumped forward, barely dodging the wolf's bite. Ahmes then proceeded to cut at the face of the wolf that tried to bite his leg off, and sliced its head off clean. Man this sword has a really good edge, my compliments to the chef, he joked inwardly as he dodged another pounce and slice the front paws of his attacker. Ok, three to go, he thought, making sure to keep his eye on the other two. The wolves took a step back before turning and retreating, knowing that they wouldn't win a fight with just the three of them. Those wolves are smarter than they look, he thought as he sheathed his weapon away, only to hear a large bear roar and proceed to charge at him. Oh they were running away from the bear…OH SHIT! He screamed internally as he started to sprint for his life away from the bear. Oh shit I have to lose this guy somehow, he thought as he looked for a way to distract the bear long enough to make an escape. Nothing was coming to mind and Ahmes began to panic, Shit-shit-shit-SHIT this is bad, c'mon Ahmes, think think think, he thought before turning around and trying to make himself look as big as possible. The bear simply stopped and looked at him in confusion for a moment before charging at him again with even more speed than before. Shit that was supposed to work! He screamed internally as he went back to sprinting. He had started to lose speed as exhaustion was catching up to him. As the bear began to get closer and closer, an arrow flew past Ahmes and hit the bear straight in the left eye. The bear roared in pain as Ahmes used the opportunity to run to safety. Ahmes never had the chance to see nor thank his savior, but he prayed to as many deities as he could think of for sparing his life.

Eventually Ahmes had finally saw the large castle of Dragonsreach, and made a giant sigh of relief. Thank the gods, I finally made it. As he walked to the front gates, two guards unsheathed their blades and pointed them at him. "Halt! You there! Who are you?! State your business!" he yelled as his sword pointed directly to Ahmes' face. Great to see the people of Whiterun are as welcoming as I thought they would be. Ahmes thought sarcastically as he raised his hands to the air. "My name is Ahmes, I wish to speak to the Jarl," Ahmes said in a calm tone. The guards made no intention of lowering their blades. "How are we to know you are here to assassinate the Jarl for the Thalmor?," one of the guards asked with his blade pointing accusingly. "Has security actually been this tight since the Second Great War? I remember hearing tales of a time Whiterun was accessible to almost all," Ahmes said in a sarcastic tone. The guards looked at each other and then back to Ahmes, "Why do you wish to seek audience with Jarl Frothar?" the other guard asked. "I have an important message to give to him," Ahmes said. "If it as message you wish to give, then we can give it to him for you," the guard replied. "I apologize, but this message can only be for the Jarl's ears," Ahmes said, hoping that he wouldn't have to explain more. The guards didn't move an inch, "What could possibly be so important that only the Jarl can hear it?" the guard asked. Ahmes sighed and figured he should try to tell them at least something, since they won't believe him if he doesn't. He wasn't even sure if they would believe him if he told them the truth. "It is about the Shadow," he said. "What about the Shadow?" the guard asked. "I know what makes the hunt for the Shadow so dangerous, and the Jarl has to know, please it is important," he pleaded. "And how can you possible know what is in the hunt? No one ever survives it to tell people what lies in it," the other guard said, not believing Ahmes. "Because…I had come from the hunt, and saw the Shadow. I was the only survivor," he said as the guards looked to each other before one of them passing through the gate. Ahmes had waited outside Whiterun for around twenty minutes with the guards sword pointed at his neck until the other guard walked back out of the gate. "The Jarl will see you, but no funny business. We will stay right behind you the entire time so you better not try anything," the other guard said as they both sheathed their swords and opened the gate.

Light had blinded Ahmes for a moment as he passed through the main gate of Whiterun. He rubbed his eyes as he quickly adjusted to the light. The guards had pushed him forward slightly, silently warning him to move forward. As Ahmes passed by the Plains District, various children ran past him and merchants shouted at people passing by to buy their products. Ahmes smiled lightly, he had always wanted to see the major city of Skyrim since he was a little boy. Tales of its large size and memorable legends always fascinated him. It was one of the main reasons he wanted to go on an adventure in the first place. As they passed by the Wind District, Ahmes made note on how quiet it seemed. No doubt this was the resident district, and most people were inside their homes. Eventually, they had started to make their way up the stairs into the Cloud District. As they walked up the stairs Ahmes looked to his right and immediately looked at Jorrvaskr. He had always loved the stories his mother would tell him about the Companions and their adventures. It was one of the things that made Whiterun stories that much more fun to him and would often dreamed of joining their ranks. He could hear the ramblings of an old preacher on the ground below him; the old man was wearing yellow robes and had been standing in front of a statue of Talos. He appeared to be in his eighties and have been talking almost complete nonsense the entire time. Ahmes wondered if the old man had been preaching for a long time, he didn't think so. There had been a time when the Empire made laws that had banned the worship of Talos. No doubt it had been the Thalmor's fault, so no one was surprise to see the Empire barely enforce the law. However, it was this law that was the final straw for many of the residents of Skyrim, and civil war broke loose. Well, it was at least one of the major reasons. No doubt there were many rising tensions between Skyrim and the Empire years before. However, when the Empire had defeated the Stormcloaks, they had continued to enforce that law until they had started their campaign against the Thalmor years later. Ever since the Second Great War begun, Talos worship had returned and all the focus had been put on the war.

They had opened the large wooden doors of the large castle and Ahmes had entered Dragonsreach. Inside, Ahmes looked upon the Great Hall. There were two long tables on each side of the main chamber and a central fire place that illuminated the room. There were balconies on the upper floor, where very few nobles peered down from above. The head of Numinex adorned the great hall above the Jarl's throne and, the Jarl sat while listening to the whining of a young woman in an emerald dress with long curly brown hair, no doubt the curls weren't made naturally. The emerald dress had looked extravagant and had a gold lining on the bottom of it. The woman had an angry glare and large amounts of makeup covered the entirety of her face. The man sitting on the throne was none other than Jarl Frothar. He had messy brown hair that had reached his shoulders and a small brown beard adorns his face. A gold and ruby circlet sat upon his head and he was wearing noble clothes and fur linen boots. A small axe rested on one side of him while a small sword tested on the other. He had been massaging his temples as the woman kept prattling on about a dress she had wanted. "I'm so angry! You have promised me a new dress three days ago, now where is it?" she asked in an angry tone while tapping her foot with her arms crossed. "Making a dress takes a long time, Dagny. You must be patient." The Jarl said with a tried voice. "But I don't want to be patient! I want my dress now! You promised!" The young woman yelled as she stomped her heel into the ground. One of the guards behind Ahmes spoke up, "My lord, this is the one who wished to speak with you," he said as the Jarl and the spoiled woman turned to his direction. The young woman instantly narrowed her eyes at Ahmes, no doubt judging him at first sight and placing herself above him. "We will talk about this later Dagny," The Jarl commander as she made a hmph and made way out of Dragonsreach's main gate. "I honestly only promised her the blasted dress to shut her up, I am trying to win a war and try and get rid of those bastard Horme bandits. Cant she see her dress has little significance?" he muttered to himself as Ahmes presented himself before him. "Do not worry on it much, brother, we have more important things to worry about," a man said as he placed his hand on the Jarl's shoulder. Ahmes didn't notice the man next to the Jarl when he had first entered. The man had slightly long brown hair, like his brother, only his was much lighter in comparison and his face didn't have a beard. He was wearing a heavy, steel plated armor and a large great sword rested on his back. No doubt this man was Nelkir, housecarl and half-brother to the Jarl of Whiterun. Ahmes had heard numerous stories of his skills as a swordsman and jouster. He had been reigned the undefeated champion of Whiterun, and continued to hold his title to this day. Ahmes had always been a fan of his growing up, the bastard son of Balgruuf rising through the ranks and becoming the housecarl to his brother. He had earned the respect of everyone in Whiterun.

"Yes, so you are the boy that my soldier told me about. So, you have a message for me about the Shadow? It is true that you have survived it? Are the Thalmor the ones controlling it?" The Jarl asked in a commanding tone. Ahmes had taken a knee and bowed his head. "Yes, my lord. It is true, I even have a scar on my back to prove it, although I am not sure if the Shadow has any allegiance," Ahmes answered politely. Both of the men's eyebrows have raised themselves slightly in disbelief. "Please, tell me what you saw," he commanded. Ahmes then reluctantly told him of his story of the black knight that resided in the Hunt. When his story was finished, the Jarl sat up from his throne and paced throughout the room. Ahmes could only stare at the floor in order to not seem disrespectful.

"I see, so this knight had black armor? Could you tell what metal it was made of? Deadric? Or Ebony perhaps?" he asked as Ahmes rose from his position. "I truly cannot give you a very accurate answer; I never got a very good look at what exactly his armor was made from. If I had to make a guess, I would most likely say Ebony, my lord," Ahmes said as he tried his best to remember and identify the armor the demon had worn, only to remember its red eyes and speed his own heart. "Hmm, what do you make of this Nelkir?" The Jarl asked as he turned to face him. Nelkir's face frowned as he tried to come up with a good answer. "Although I find it hard to believe the thing that has been killing all the people that were sent to the hunt was a single person, I do think sending more men to fight the Shadow is a terrible idea. No doubt the ordeal is almost impossible to survive through and sending more men to a lost cause is pointless," he said as the Jarl went back to thinking. "I am sorry my friend, but I must think about this a while. Please, make yourself home at the nearest inn. I will call for you when I have made a decision," he decided as Ahmes took a knee and gave him his thanks. Ahmes turned to leave as the men in the main chamber began to talk amongst themselves once more, no doubt about the war against the Thalmor and what they should do about the Shadow. Their voices began to become quiet as the doors behind Ahmes closed. Ahmes then made his way down the stairs of Dragonsreach and decided to look around in the market for anything he would need for the days to come.

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