Chapter Two: Elves

Radolf dragged himself from his bed and quickly got dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. Radolf was a Nord in his early twenties, he was average height for his race, which was a few inches taller than most of the other races in Tamriel. He had fair blond hair, deep blue eyes and a fair bit of stubble protruding from his chin. He admired himself in the mirror for a few moments before going to join his father in the forge.

'This civil war has increased business.' Radolf's father, Hulgar explained. 'So we have a lot of weapons and armor to make for the soldiers'

Radolf lived with his father in a small village west of Solitude called Winterbrook, this meant they were in a prime position to trade with the imperial soldiers in the city. Their village was basic, only consisting of a few wooden huts and the forge, there were few luxuries there, but that suited Radolf fine.

The crisp morning air woke Radolf instantly as he wandered over to the forge.

'Radolf, we're running low on coal, so could you head over to Solitude and buy some more?'

'Of course father, do we need anything else?'

'No, I think we're fine for everything else'

Hulgar handed his son enough septims for the coal and some mead from tavern named 'the winking skeever'.

It would take about a day to complete his task, and as only the rich could afford horses, Radolf had to make the journey there on foot and carry the coal back. He grabbed a few items to take with him, some bread, dried meat, and his sword. He would be making the whole journey on the roads, but you could never be too careful with a civil war on, and the threat of bandits was at an all time high. Radolf left immediately to ensure the majority of his journey would be in daylight.

By the time Radolf had reached Solitude he was exhausted and there were only a few hours of daylight left, he decided to head to 'the winking skeever' first so that he could regain his strength and hear stories from the bards.

'Solitude is a beautiful city' Radolf thought to himself, admiring the grand buildings, they were certainly more of imperial design than nordic, but radolf didn't care.

He made his way over to the tavern, and was greeted by the warm sound of bards playing and Nords drinking. He handed a few septims to the barman and went to find one of the quiet corners in the tavern. He spotted one of the bards close by.

'Bard' he said 'Play 'age of aggression''

'Ah!' The bard replied, a smile crossing his lips 'only true imperials request that one!'

As the bard started to play, Radolf leant back in his chair, letting the music wash over him, rid him of his troubles and take him someplace else.

'Music really is one of the luxuries in life' Radolf mused silently

Once the bard had finished playing, Radolf handed him a couple of septims, to which the bard gave him a gracious smile.

After finishing his mead, Radolf went to buy coal from one of the traders when he overheard a conversation between a guard and a stranger, Radolf couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell it was serious because the stranger was covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. His curiosity getting the better of him, he got closer so he could hear the conversation.

'Elves...Winterbrook...Massacre.' The Stranger puffed

Radolf's heart stopped and his blood ran cold. ''No. It can't be'

He ran over to the guard,

'What's happened?'

'Some Elves attacked Winterbrook, it was a massacre, I was lucky to escape' The stranger replied

'But why Winterbrook?'

'I think one of them mentioned cutting off the supply lines to the Imperials'

Then it dawned on him, this wasn't a random attack, the Elves targeted the forge because they knew his father was suppling the imperials with weapons and armor for the war. Radolf started to sprint towards the main gate.

'Citizen!' The guard called out. 'I would advise you to stay here until some guards can be sent!'

But Radolf wasn't listening, and with that he flung the gates open and started running towards Winterbrook.