It was General Tullius who actually contacted me first, summoning me back to Castle Dour in Solitude. When I arrived he handed me a sealed letter.

"I need someone I can trust to deliver a message of great import to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun," he told me. "We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion's support."

From what I knew of the man, I was entirely unsurprised.

"This missive should convince him. Be aware, soldier. These documents contain sensitive intelligence for the Jarl's eyes only."

"Understood, sir. I won't fail you."


Balgruuf watched me curiously as I approached his throne.

"What is it?"

"I have an important message from General Tullius," I told him.

He rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. "No doubt requesting to garrison his men in my castle. How many times must I deny him? Well? Out with it."

"Ulfric plans to attack Whiterun. The General wants to lend Legion troops."

Balgruuf frowned. "I see. Give the papers to my Steward."

"He said they were for your eyes only," I insisted.

"Don't be daft. Proventus is my eyes. Just give me the letter. I presume once I have it, I can do as I please with it? Good."

When I held the message out to him he snatched it away. Breaking the seal, he unrolled it and looked it over. His brows knotted together.

"These are… interesting reports," he said slowly. Looking up, he asked, "Proventus, what do you make of all this? If Ulfric were to attack Whiterun…"

"As in all things, lord, caution. I urge us to wait and see."

"Prey waits," Irileth snapped as she came up to stand at the Jarl's other side.

"I'm of a mind with Irileth," Balgruuf agreed. "It's time to act."

Proventus stared at him, shocked. "You plan to march on Windhelm?"

"I'm not a fool, Proventus. I mean it's time to challenge Ulfric to face me as a man, or to declare his intentions."

"He'll do no such thing."

"He was rather straight-forward with Torygg," Irileth pointed out.

"Torygg? He simply walked up to the boy and murdered him!"

"That "boy" was High King of Skyrim."

"I'm not the High King, but neither am I a boy." Balgruuf leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "if Ulfric wants to challenge my rule in the old way, let him. Though I suspect he'll prefer to send his "Stormcloaks" to do it for him."

Irileth crossed her arms and nodded thoughtfully. "True. He's already proven his personal strength. Now he seeks to prove his army's."

"Then might I urge you to consider General Tullius's request?" The steward cut in. "I mean, if you are bent on offending Jarl Ulfric…"

"Ulfric is the one who has offended… but Proventus has a point. Ulfric has made it clear. In his mind, to refuse his claim is to side with the Empire."

"And what harm is there in letting a few legionnaires die in place of your own men?"

My jaw clenched in anger, but I held my tongue.

Jarl Balgruuf stroked his beard with a frown. "It seems cowardly."

"Was it cowardly then to accept the White-Gold Concordat?"

"This again?" He snapped, glaring at Irileth. "That was different. Was I given a chance to object to the terms of the treaty? No! the Jarls weren't asked. We were told. And we had to like it."

"The chests of gold didn't hurt," Proventus mumbled.

"Damn it! This isn't about gold!"

"It's time to decide," Irileth told him, her voice firm.

"My lord, wait. Let us see if Ulfric is serious."

"Oh, he's serious, but so am I," Balgruuf said darkly. To me, he said, "I have a message for you to deliver to our friend, the esteemed Jarl of Windhelm. Deliver this axe to Ulfric Stormcloak."

I took the axe he handed to me and frowned. "You think Ulfric will just let me waltz in there, no problem?"

"True, he's a dangerous and bloodthirsty man, but he's also a Nord that honors our traditions. Keep your wits about you and you won't be harmed."

"And is there anything I should say to him?"

"Men who understand one another need not waste words. There are but a few simple truths behind one warrior giving another his axe. Ulfric will know my meaning."

I think I did as well. "Understood."

"Good. After you do that, get back here as quickly as you can. Because if Ulfric isn't bluffing, I'll need ever able body to defend Whiterun."

I gave him a slight bow and turned away. As I did, I heard him tell his steward, "Proventus. Bring me my pen. And the good parchment. I'm writing a letter to General Tullius. I need to make a few things clear before I accept these legionnaires of his."

As I hurried down from Dragonsreach I strapped the axe to my belt so that I didn't lose it. My heart pounded. If this worked, Whiterun would be under attack very soon. Bursting into Breezehome, I called, "Lydia! Lucia!"

They both appeared quickly, Lydia from upstairs and Lucia from her bedroom on the bottom floor.

"What's going on?" The girl asked.

"You both need to get out. Now. Whiterun isn't going to be safe very shortly."

Lydia paled. "Ulfric?"

I nodded. "Take whatever you both can't live without. Go to Riverwood and find the Blacksmith, Alvor. Tell him you're with me. He'll help you. Don't come back here until it's safe."

"I should be here," Lydia argued. "I should be fighting."

"You need to keep Lucia safe." Before she could protest further, I told her, "That's an order."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Very well, my Thane."

"Oh, don't start that. You're the only one I trust to watch her, and I can take care of myself. Go. Now."


It was night when I reached Windhelm. White flakes fell from the dark sky as I crossed the bridge into the city. Icicles hung from the eaves of all of the buildings that lined the streets and braziers of fire lit the cold stone. Moments after passing the city gates, I was bombarded with the sound of harsh voices.

"You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!"

Two burly Nords had a lone Dunmer woman backed into a corner. She shuddered, her red eyes flitting between them as she insisted, "We haven't taken a side because it's not our fight."

"Hey," one Nord said as he nudged the other, "maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"

"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!" She gasped.

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy," one of them sneered. "We got ways of finding out what you really are."

He shoved her to the ground and they both walked off, laughing to themselves. I hurried over and knelt down beside her. She glared up at me.

"Do you hate the dark elves? Are you here to bully us and tell us to leave?"

Yes, I'd been at the receiving end of hate from a number of Dunmer in Vvardenfell. At the end of a blade, in the case of the Camonna Tong. But it had been a Dunmer who'd hired me in Mournhold when no one else would. Divines bless Sunel for that. Besides, this woman clearly didn't deserve to be treated like that.

"No, I don't hate your people," I told her quietly. Holding out my hand, I helped her to her feet.

"You've come to the wrong city, then," she said, brushing off her skirt. "Windhelm's a haven of prejudice and narrow thinking, unworthy of one such as you."

"Why would anyone think you're a spy?" I asked with a frown.

She shrugged. "Some of these Nords will come up with any excuse to despise us. And it isn't just the dark elves they hate – they make a target of the Argonians as well. In fact, just about anyone who isn't a Nord is fair game for their bullying."

"And do those Nords always give you trouble like that?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Most of the Nords living in Windhelm don't care much for us, but Rolff is the worst by far. He likes to get drunk and walk around the Gray Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the morning. A real charmer, that one."

My eyes narrowed. "Which one's Rolff?"

She pointed to one of the two Nords who'd harassed her, the one with the leather cap that covered his head. I cracked my knuckles and stormed toward him.

"Hey!" I shouted. "N'wah!"

He whirled around, glaring, and spat, "You a dark elf lover? Get out of our city, you filthy piece of trash."

"I don't like your attitude," I snarled.

"Don't like it? Too bad. This is our city. Ours!"

"Maybe I'll just make you shut your guar-shit mouth."

He snorted and looked me over. "Don't think I can take you? One hundred Septims says I can punch you back where you came from."

"You're on."

He seemed surprised, but quickly brushed it off. "All right. No weapons. And none of that magic stuff either. Let's go!"

He swung his fist at me and I ducked to avoid the blow. Dodging around him, I kicked out hard at the back of one of his knees. His leg gave way beneath him. When he rolled over to face me I dropped to my knees on his chest, pinning him to the street. I raised one fist to slam into his face if he moved.

"Just try it," I growled.

"That wasn't a fair swing!"

I didn't budge. "You lost. Give me my money."

"Fine," he spat.

I got up, standing just out of his reach just in case. Pulling his purse from his belt, he tossed it to me. With narrowed eyes I watched him as he got to his feet and staggered away. Once he was gone, I hurried back over to the stunned womer.

"Here," I said, holding the purse out to her.

She hesitated. "I don't…"

"I couldn't let that s'wit get away with it. Besides, I have a feeling you need it much more than I do."

She took the purse, holding it to her chest with trembling hands. "Thank you, sera. So much."

"Don't mention it," I murmured. She hurried away and I continued on to the palace.

The guards didn't stop me when I walked inside. That was a good sign, at least. On the throne at the end of the hall was a familiar man dressed all in black. He watched me warily as I approached. I wondered for a moment if he recognized me.

"Yes? Make it quick, I'm a busy man," Ulfric said.

Voice flat, I told him, "I've brought a message from the Jarl of Whiterun."

"Is that so? I've been wondering when he'd come around." His laughter died when I wordlessly held out the axe. "Oh. What's this?"

"Exactly what you think it is."

"Ah. You're quite brave to carry such a message. It's a pity you've chosen the wrong side," he said, looking me over. "You can return this axe to the man who sent it. And tell him he should prepare to entertain… visitors. I expect a great deal of excitement in the city of Whiterun in the near future."

I gave him a cool glare. "We'll be seeing you soon, then."

"Sooner than you think."


I all but ran back to Whiterun. Ulfric's troops would be on the move the instant I left Windhelm, if they weren't out there already. Whiterun needed to be warned. I raced into Dragonsreach behind a harried legionnaire. Tullius's troops had made it. Good.

Everyone was gathered up in the war room when I arrived.

"Sir! I… I have–" the legionnaire gasped, out of breath. A man dressed in a Legion commander's uniform broke away from the war table.

"Take a moment to breathe, soldier," he said.

"But, sir–"

"Breathe!"

"The outer walls are strong," I heard Jarl Balgruuf muse, stroking his beard. "If we can hold them there…"

"They have catapults," the commander said.

"Damn it. Where did they get catapults? The city walls are already falling apart as it is!"

"My scouts tell me they're loading them with fire."

Balgruuf groaned and leaned forward against the table, bowing his head. "So, he wants to take my city walls intact."

"The men will be fighting in flames."

"My men are fearless. It's the Imperial milk-drinkers I'm worried about."

"If you prefer, I can take my men and leave," the commander snapped.

"No! Of course not. Just… don't let me down, Cipius." When the commander nodded, Balgruuf said to Proventus, "We'll need to set up water brigades to combat the flames."

"Already taken care of," Cipius cut in.

The Jarl shook his head in wonderment. "You Imperials are efficient, I'll give you that. How long until they arrive?"

"Sir?" The legionnaire cut in. They ignored him.

"Not long. They're hiding in the countryside."

"Damn it. What's he waiting for?"

"Sir!"

"What?" Cipius snapped.

"Sir, they're on the move. They'll be at the gates at any moment."

"Why didn't you say so immediately?"

"Sir, I… tried."

"This is it. Time to see what these Stormcloaks are made of. Oblivion take them. Every miserable last one of them," Balgruuf said, straightening and looking at everyone in the room. Then his eyes found me. When I silently held up the axe, he sighed. "I knew that would be his response. As soon as you left, I sent word to General Tullius, who's been kind enough to lend us some of his troops and Legate Cipius here. let Ulfric try to make it past our combined forces."

"Where do you want me?" I asked.

"I'm sure Cipius has some use for you, so I'll turn you over to him. Gods be with us all."

"Get down to the front line," Cipius ordered from the other side of the room. "We must hold the city."

"Yes, sir."

I raced down the stairs and out of the palace. The moment I set foot outside I coughed and my eyes watered from the smoke that filled the air. The attack had begun. Balls of fire soared through the air and some of the houses were burning. Suddenly I was back in the Imperial City as the forces of Oblivion attacked in that final fight. I remembered the look of fear in Martin's eyes as he caught the first glimpse of Mehrunes Dagon in the flesh. Shaking my head to clear away the memory, I hurried through the city and dodged guards trying to get the city's residents to safety.

An array of both warriors from Whiterun and legionnaires waited behind the barricade protecting the city with weapons drawn. On top of the wall above them stood a woman in full armor. Rikke.

"This is it, men!" She shouted down. "This is an important day for the Empire and for the Legion. For all of Skyrim. This is the day we send a message to Ulfric Stormcloak and the rebel Jarls who support him. But make no mistake. What we do here today, we do for Skyrim and her people. By cutting out the disease of this rebellion, we will make this country whole again!"

A blast of fire struck nearby and I winced. Past the barricades I saw shadowy figures running toward us. Rikke raised her sword toward the sky.

"Ready now! Everyone, with me! For the Empire! For the Legion!"

With a roar, the front lines of soldiers charged forward to meet the Stormcloaks, bypassing the barrier. Through the smoke came the sound of clashing metal. I hung back, readying an arrow.

"Fancy seeing you here."

I glanced over to see Hadvar, ready with his own bow. I nodded.

"Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?" I asked, keeping my eyes focused on the Stormcloaks. At the moment they were busy fighting our men who'd gone out first and I couldn't get a clear shot, but they'd make it to the barricade soon. I was sure of that.

"All right. You?"

I shrugged. "Stressed, mostly. Too many dragons. Too many idiots to deal with."

"Like these rebels?"

"Yes."

Several of them finally broke free of the melee and made a dash for the barricade. I managed to catch one of them in the throat. He went down, but more still kept coming. More arrows shot from the bows of the other archers around me, including Hadvar's. The Stormcloaks pulled back, waiting.

That was when their archers stepped forward. Arrows whizzed overhead and I ducked out of the way. Several of our own soldiers fell, peppered with the rebels' arrows.

"Steady!" Rikke shouted over the sounds of screams and the fire crashing into the city. "Steady!"

There were loud cracks as the Stormcloaks used their axes to break through the wooden barricades. I hurried back, shooting several as they rushed in, but they managed to back me into a corner. One of them knocked the bow from my hands.

"Nowhere to run," one of them taunted. She raised her axe.

Breathing hard, I felt the familiar power curling on my tongue. I released it. The rebels were sent staggering back or crashing into the wall by my Shout. I drew my sword.

"I don't need to," I growled at them.


It was close, but we eventually drove them back. The surviving Stormcloaks ran for it, back to their s'wit of a leader. In the end we hadn't lost as many soldiers as I feared we might. All of them were gathered before the city gates, many sporting some kind of injury. The healers would have their hands full after that.

When I staggered, off-balance, toward the crowd, Hadvar grabbed my arm and hoisted me back up.

"You made it," he chuckled. "I was sure I'd find you face-down in the dirt."

"So was I, for a few minutes there."

"The Jarl wishes to speak!" Irileth shouted at the assembled soldiers from her place at the gate. Everyone went silent. Jarl Balgruuf nodded at her.

Stepping forward, he cried, "Revel in your victory here today, even as the gods revel in your honor! They already sing of your valor and skill! The halls of Sovngarde are no doubt ringing with your praises!"

The soldiers all cheered loudly in response to his words.

"In defeating these Stormcloak traitors, you have proven the hollowness of their cause and the fullness of your hearts," he continued. "The citizens of Whiterun are forever in your debt! But Ulfric will not stop here. No, he will continue to strike out against any true Nord who remains faithful to the Empire! He will continue to sow discord and chaos wherever he can! And so, we must each one of us, continue to fight this insurrection, lest our fallen brothers have died for naught! Lest our honor be lessened should we allow these bloodthirsty beasts to prowl our lands! Carry on men. My gratitude and blessings go with you. For Whiterun! For the Empire!"

The soldiers roared. Then the crowd split, some going to the healers for aid. I remained where I stood. My heart still pounded.

I hadn't wanted to go into battle again. Not after what happened during the Crisis and not after what happened in the Shivering Isles. Yet there I was, and I was growing more and more certain it wouldn't be the last time.

"Are your ears still ringing?" Hadvar asked me. "I hope that goes away."

"I'm not sure it does," I murmured.

He nudged me in the ribs. "Hey. That went pretty well, all things considered. And I'm pretty sure I killed more than you. I was counting."

I allowed myself the barest of smiles in response.