Chapter Three: Whiterun

"If we make good time, we should be able to get to Whiterun before dusk." I said as we crossed the bridge leading out of Riverwood.

Edric nodded. "This is strange, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Travelling. How often did we travel back when we lived in Bruma?" Edric asked. "Beric did it a few times, but the two of us? Never. But within a week, look how far we've gone."

"Weren't you going to travel to the College of Winterhold one day?" I questioned. "That's much further north."

"I was going to travel there next year." Edric said.

"You said that last year." We took a right-hand turn after crossing the bridge - the left would lead up to Bleak Falls Barrow, which Ralof had warned us about.

"Then I changed my mind." Edric stated, somewhat defensively.

There were very few institutions in the Empire where one could practice magic, and none of them were anywhere near Bruma. Fortunately, a local mage had been willing to take Edric on as an apprentice. He had made great progress, but his master made it clear that he would be better off at a professional institution.

"Speaking of teaching... you picked up that lightning spell rather quickly on your own." I pointed out. It had taken him a few years to learn what he already knows now - a flame spell, a fireball spell, a frost spell, a basic ward spell, and some healing capabilities.

Edric shrugged. "The first three years were mostly theory. You know I was casting spells before I had a teacher, but I was told that was dangerous if I didn't fully comprehend how I was able to do it. He was a cautious man. The other two years were spent actually learning spells. And to tell you the truth, my instructor wasn't actually that skilled. Another year or two and I might have even surpassed him. He said as much to me."

"And that was why you waited? You wanted to prove yourself better than him before you left?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe I didn't want to leave home. Or maybe I just thought it would be smart if I knew as much that would help me defend myself as possible. Skyrim is more dangerous than Cyrodill, from what I heard."

I nodded. From bandits to trolls, countless tales of the perils of Skyrim's roads had made their way south. I wondered if we were truly equipped to deal with them. Edric had his magic, and I had my axe and shield, but neither of us actually wore armour, which almost made me feal naked. A concealed arrow barrage could end us both before we even realized what was happening.

"Anyways," Edric continued, "I will need some more time to study the tome if I want to effectively use the spell in combat."

"Now that we're in Skyrim, are you going to make your way to the College of Winterhold at some point?" I asked him.

"I might. But we have a couple things to take care of before I can even consider that." Edric pointed out.

Our walk was marked only by one incident. An hour or so after our departure from Riverwood, two men emerged from bushes, and another from a rock. One of them was clad in furs, and had a bow trained on us. Another one was clad in leather, and wielded a sword. The third was wearing hide, and held a mace.

"Hand over your gold and your weapons, and we might just let you go." The leader challenged.

I nodded, and reached down to unbelt my axe... then I pulled it out and threw it directly into the chest of the mace-wielder! I raised my shield just in time to block the archer's arrow. As Edric unleashed more of his fire upon the archer, I drew my swordand charged the remaining bandit. His sword was longer than mine, but I had a shield, which gave me an advantage. I blocked his strike with my shield, and then sliced my blade across his throat. I felt no remorse when striking down such foes; these men were bound by no law or duty, only coin and slaughter. It was satisfying to put an end to them.

"You were the one who mentioned danger." I smirked at Edric, after the fight was concluded. Fate worked in interesting ways.

And that was that. We searched the guards for loot, and were about to carry on, but then I realized the one with the leather armour was of a similar size to me. So, somewhat reluctantly, I took his armour, did what I could to wash out the bloodstains in the nearby river, and then I put it on. It didn't fit perfectly, a bit too large in some areas and a bit too small in others, but I could have it modified later.

I also took his steel sword, and left my imperial blade behind - such a weapon would attract unwanted suspicion.

We continued onward, following the river north, on a road that winded left and right. Some time after noon, Whiterun finally came into view. At this distance, the city seemed large and impressive. It was built atop a hill, and the keep of Dragonsreach stood proud and tall for all to see. I recalled the tales of Olaf One-Eye which I had heard as a child.

However, there was still a long way to go. Thankfully, from here the road went downhill. We stopped only to eat some of our rations, and then we carried on.

An hour later, Edric spoke up once again. "We need to talk about what happened in Helgen."

"About the dragon?" I asked.

"No, about those soldiers we killed to fight our way out."

"What about them?" I knew where this was going.

Edric took a deep breath. "Our Aunt died with the Eighth Legion during the Fall of the Imperial City. Our Grandfather fell during the Battle of the Red Ring. Doesn't it seem... wrong that we should kill soldiers of the Empire they died for?"

The Great War had ended three years before my birth, and Bruma had been mostly untouched by the fighting. We had never experienced its true horrors, and I had never met our family members who perished in the fighting. Our parents had spoken of them with obvious fondness, and Edric had always been the most moved by the stories.

"The Empire repaid their sacrifice with the White-Gold Concordat, and by driving their family out of their homes twenty-six years later." I remarked bitterly. "I'm not going to go running off to join the Stormcloaks, but I don't think we owe the Empire anything. Besides, it was them or us."

"No it wasn't." Edric corrected. "We could have gone with Hadvar. He might have spared us, or set us free. He seemed to be a good man."

"And what would Hadvar's comrades, or that whore captain of his, have done? Execute us? Put us in chains? Leave us behind?" I questioned. "I wish we didn't have to kill them, but the fact is, we did. May they find whatever afterlife they seek."

Edric remained silent.

We reached the city perhaps two or three hours before sunset. I couldn't help but note with disapproval how the most of the walls had partially crumbled in some way, which suggested centuries of neglect.

"How could they allow the walls to fall to this point?" I asked as we passed through the first wall, which didn't have a gate.

Edric shrugged. "Maybe they didn't need to? Until now, Skyrim had been at peace for centuries."

Still, I couldn't help but get the impression that the security in Whiterun was terrible. Shameful, is what it was.

At least they had a drawbridge. That was something. We crossed over it, and made our way the gate shortly behind it, when we were stopped short.

"Halt!" One of the guards commanded, stepping forward. "City's closed with dragons about. Official business only."

"Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid." I declared. How barring people from entering the city was meant to protect it from dragons was completely beyond me. At least the rumours had already reached Whiterun, so I would not sound completely insane.

"Riverwood's in danger too?" The guard asked in a concerned voice. "You'd best go in, then. You will find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill." He turned around. "Open the gate!"

After a few moments, the gate swung open, and we stepped inside.

Cities stank. Having grown up and lived in one. So many animals and people living so close together... it was bound to generate some sort of odour. It was a sharp contrast to the week or so spent in the country. Thankfully, I had grown up in a city, so I adjusted to it quickly enough.

We stepped into the city, and the first thing we noticed were the buildings - well-constructed, despite the sorry state of the walls. The second thing we noticed were the people. A man in Imperial armour appeared to be negotiating with a blacksmith - I heard her mention a man 'Eorlund Gray-Mane', which sounded vaguely familiar. Our father was always going on about his work.

The man all but laughed in her face. "Ha, I'd sooner bend my knee to Ulfric Stormcloak."

Was he an Imperial Soldier? Was he from Helgen? Gerdur had assured me none of them would come this way. I decided to walk by them as if nothing was out of the ordinary. But then, without warning, the man turned around to face me.

"You there, I haven't seen you before. Gray-Mane, or Battle-Born?"

"What?" Edric and I asked simultaneously.

"You got stones in your ears? Gray-Mane, or Battle-Born?"

I looked to the blacksmith for assistance, but she had already gone back to her work. "I don't know what you're asking." I said at last.

"New in town, then." He realized. "Whiterun has two influential clans, both old and both respected. Difference is, the Gray-Manes turned their back on the Empire, while we Battle-Borns have stayed loyal. So I ask again: Gray-Mane, or Battle-Born?"

"I'm not choosing a side." I told him honestly. Involving myself in a family feud within an unfamiliar city was almost as stupid as involving myself in a civil war within an unfamiliar country.

"Sooner or later, we all have to choose a side." He warned, and then walked away, leaving us to ruminate on his words.

Though we were unfamiliar with the city's layout, it was obvious that if we just kept going up we would reach the castle eventually. We passed through the market, and merchants loudly advertised their wares, but we ignored them and continued upward. We also heard idle conversation, but it was mostly mundane subjects. There were only a few mentions of dragons or the civil war. I found my gaze drawn to a rather attractive redhead who was haggling with one of the traders, but I soon looked away. Nothing would come of it; we weren't going to be in this city for long.

We stopped only momentarily in the Wind District, when we saw and heard a priest screeching about Talos, and had to do a double-take, staring at him with dumbfounded expressions.

We had been chased out of Bruma under the mere suspicion of being Talos worshippers. Our father was one, but he had always done an excellent job keeping it secret. The rest of the family had not shared his faith. Yet it had been enough to make all five of us targets.

Then there was this priest, standing directly in shrine dedicated to Talos, loudly preaching his faith for all to hear. No one batted an eye or attempting to stop him. Even if Whiterun was neutral in the Civil War, surely the Thalmor would have found some way to at least eliminate him, or pressure the Jarl into taking action?

But then I worked it out. He must be a Thalmor spy, or at the very least someone the Thalmor were aware of, but grudgingly tolerated. They must be waiting to see who was paying attention to his words, or who was asking him questions. Lulling people into a false sense of security so they would be more open with their own worship of Talos. Little things which would give the Thalmor an excuse to round up as many people as possible when they were ready. It seemed obvious to me.

So, I pulled Edric along, and we continued up the long set of stairs to Dragonsreach. On the way, he passed a redguard wearing fine red clothes. "Do you get the Cloud District very often?" He asked us, in a tone filled with self-importance. Then he noticed our attire. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course you don't." And with that he continued his descent. We stared at him for a few moments, before moving along.

Like Bruma, this city had no shortage of rude or unusual people, it would seem.

The Jarl's hall at Dragonsreach was as vast and impressive on the inside as it was on the outside. The guards had allowed us in after I surrendered my weapons and explained to them why I was there. One of them announced us to the Jarl's assembled court. "Messengers from Riverwood!" He called out.

The Jarl, a blond man in his mid-thirties who appeared to be in the midst of a discussion with his steward, fell silent. An armored Dark Elf stood at the Jarl's side, eying us warily. Some sort of bodyguard, I assumed.

"I trust this is important, then? Important enough to interrupt the Jarl in middle of counsel?" Balgruuf questioned, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded grimly. "I have news from Helgen. The rumours are true. A dragon destroyed the town, and last I saw it was heading this way. Riverwood may be in danger."

"And are you sure this was a dragon? Not some... Stormcloak raid gone wrong?" The Jarl asked skeptically.

Edric nodded with surprising vehemance. "The only Stormcloaks there were imprisoned. The Imperials were about to execute Ulfric, and that's when the dragon attacked.

Balgruuf sighed. "I should have guessed Ulfric would be mixed up in this..." Then he turned to his steward. "And what do you say now, Proventus. Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?

The Dunmer spoke up. "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus protested. "He will assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him. We should not..."

"Enough!" The Jarl shouted. Proventus paled and fell silent. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" He turned to the Dark Elf. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once." Irileth nodded, and then hurried out of the hall.

"If you will excuse me, I will return to my duties." Proventus said, somewhat nervously.

"That would be best." The Jarl turned to face us. "You two. What are your names?" He asked us.

"Ivar."

"Edric."

"Well done, Ivar and Edric, you sought me out on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it." That wasn't entirely true. We hadn't actually sought him out on our own initiative - someone else had told us to do so. But neither of us saw fit to correct him.

The Jarl continued speaking. "You will be paid for your service. In the meantime, there is something else you can do for me. Something suited to your... particular talents, perhaps?"

I nodded with trepidation. I had no desire to be sidetracked any further, not when there was still the matter of locating Beric. But it would not hurt to hear him out, and it might earn his ire if I did not.

"Come then. Let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into matters related to these 'dragons'..." Balgruuf said, and with that he rose from his throne and led us towards his Court Wizard's study.

"So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" Farengar asked, looking solely at Edric and barely even acknowledging my existence, evidently having more respect for a fellow mage. I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath, and I wondered how long it had been since he slept. "Yes," he mused, "I could use someone to fetch something for me." There was a pause, before he added, "Well, when I say fetch, I mean I need you to delve into an ancient ruin in search of a stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

His voice was completely and utterly devoid of emotion. It was off-putting.

"What does this have to do with the dragons returning?" Edric asked.

"Ah, not a mere brute, but a thinker." Farengar commented. "Perhaps even a scholar?"

Edric shrugged, and soon of the two of them were chatting like old friends, discussing what they knew about the dragons and the Ancient Nords. Farengar knew more, of course, but Edric still knew enough to offer his own input. I tried to follow the conversation, listening to them go about how the dragons ruled Skyrim through the Dragon Cult, and how the Nords used a power known as the Voice to cast them down, but little was known beyond that. Farengar spoke at length about Ancient Nordic burial customs.

Some of it was helpful, but most was of no practical use, and eventually it began to grow dull. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but we couldn't just stand around discussing old history. I cleared my throat, loudly.

"Apologies, but could you tell your mercenary not to interrupt us?" Farengar asked my brother.

My eyes narrowed, and I was about to issue a hot retort, but Edric responded before I did it. "He's not a mercenary, he's my brother." Edric explained, his friendly tone fading. "And he's right, it would be best if we got moving. Farewell."

"One more thing," Farengar added, "could you take these frost salts to Arcadia at her shop? Arcadia's Cauldron. It's next to the Bannered Mare Inn. She will likely provide you some sort of compensation."

Well, that was convenient. Considering how it was getting late, we would need to go to the Inn anyways. "I will deliver them." Edric promised.

And with that, we turned to leave, only to find that a servant was waiting for us in the doorway. He handed me a rather generous pouch of gold. "Here is the reward the Jarl has promised you." He explained, before excusing himself. It seemed the Jarl paid well. No doubt the reward for the Dragonstone would be even greater.

We left the Keep in an upbeat mood. "So," Edric began, "we deliver the Frost Salts, collect another reward, find a room at the Inn, and then head back to Riverwood in the morning?"

I shook my head. "Better to stay for a full day, and then depart the next morning. We've been traveling too long, and could do with some rest. We also need more gear and better equipment. We have nothing for an overnight trip."

"What about Beric?" Edric asked.

"If Beric is alive, and if he is in Riverwood already, an extra day won't kill him." I suggested. "I want to find him as much as you do, but if we're going to be running back and forth between towns, we need to better equip ourselves. Now, let's deliver your salts, and then find something to eat."