A/N: Hey, I was going over my planned plotlines and future chapters earlier and had a thought. If I have left anything open that you would like to see answered let me know. I hate reading a story and finishing it with unanswered questions. If you think of anything you can review/PM me, if I haven't already planned an answer to the question I can add a chapter to answer it. I can let you know if I have already planned it or not. I just don't want to get to chapter 81(my planned last chapter) and be like oh crap I left something out around chapter 30. Thanks to anyone who lets me know something.

Edric IV

Things in the Reach had deteriorated in ways I would never understand. The last word from the Reach had been from a former Thane. He had said that everything was fine. The Reachmen had been treating the Nords well if the Nords acted respectfully.

Now, now the Nords were in a labor camp. The village of Karthwasten had become a prison. The Forsworn were wearing Breton armor and had the village walled off. The Nords of the Reach were all working inside the mine.

The Dragonborn was correct, but no one knew how. Was he truly Talos reincarnate? People had said the same of Ulfric.

Calder, my housecarl, rode his horse up next to mine.

"Edric, we are ready to attack. Whenever you say the word."

"What of the people inside?" I asked. "Who would watch after them when we attack? What will stop these madmen from slaughtering the prisoners?"

"I honestly don't know what to tell you." His head drooped in shame.

"Pick your head up. I am going to take some men and climb the mountain." I scanned the village and where it met the mountain. It might work.

"What good will that do?" He looked at me with doubt.

"What goes up must come down." I smiled and strapped a second sword to my back.

"You have got to be kidding? What will stop you from getting shot full of arrows by the Reachmen, or from getting blasted with magic?"

"You will, you and the rest of the men will be hitting the walls and causing one damn good distraction."

…..

The climb up the mountain was easy. The rappelling down the mountain was easy. No one fell, and no one got shot. All attention was on the walls.

What was hard was coming down and seeing the horrors of the camp. Men and women whose bodies had become emaciated. Several people were missing limbs. Most were covered in head to toe in debris from the silver mine. Dirt, shards of silver ore, and Divines knows what covered the men and women who were working the mine.

Gods, the children. They looked sick, most likely were. They had no light in their eyes. They did not play. There was no laughter. It had been beaten out of them. The children, the ones who saw everything with imagination, no longer saw the beauty of life.

"You going to stand there and fight, or are you going to do something?" A blond Nord around my age called out. He was filthy, and looked weak. It did not seem to faze him, he saw the spare sword at my back and held out a hand.

"Who are you?"

"Argis the Bulwark. Housecarl to Thane Thorin Vlindrel." He grabbed the sword out of my extended arm.

"He is alive?" How on the Divines green earth?

"Yes, he and Raerek. They keep them in the main building. Karthwasten Hall. Make them watch what they put us through." The Nord spit. Some of the dirt from his face had come off with the spittle.

An explosion of wooden beams, splinters, and men rocked the area.

Calder came charging in. His war axe planted into a Forsworns head. His shield bashed into the screaming Reachmen at his side. He was weaving death and destruction across this village.

My men joined the fight screaming the battle cry we Nords have become infamous for.

I slid through the mud and caught a Breton's knees. His tendons severed as my blade did their job. Then the end of my sword pierced his throat as the man fell to the ground.

A wave of cold came over me without warning. I turned to find a red haired Breton woman shooting snow? Was that snow? Really? Out of all magical things to do she decides to throw snow on me…

"Lady, this is like the worst idea you have ever had." I laughed. She only stepped closer. Her teeth grit together in determination.

"Wrong spell." I grabbed her shoulder with my free hand and ran my sword through her stomach. More and more men and women joined the fight. When people from either side died, the captive Nords took up their arms and continued the fight.

Then Argis burst through the crowd with several armed Nords at his side carrying an older man and a Nord a little older than Argis.

"Edric Stormcloak, the most famous bastard in the whole province." The man smiled, his teeth stained with blood.

"Yes, Thorin I presume."

"Aye, look long story short. Madanach died. His family and another clan are fighting over who gets to be king next. Other guy, name's Patroculus, is winning right now. Man name Ennoch is the boss here. Mage. In mines. These guys are going to get me out of here. I have some friends on your end of Skyrim. Thanks."

Well that was a lot of information to process at once, but the Nord was already leaving when I tried to ask questions.

A group of Reachmen calmly walked out of the mine. Their robes caught in the wind. Robes as black as sin. Necromancers. Assholes.

Then the magic began to fall. Dead bodies began to rise up. Stormcloak fighting Stormcloak, Nord versus Nord.

The fighting was more intense now. These new opponents did not felt the same pain they felt in life. Wounds that would slow down a living person went unnoticed now.

Snow began to pelt the back of my head. Again.

I turned to find the woman casting a frost spell at me again. The hole in her stomach still poured out blood and her inner organs. I drew back my sword with as much strength as I could muster and took the woman's head off her shoulders.

Looking down at the woman I actually began to question why she used that spell again. Did she know no other spell? I saw her armor, it was not the simple iron armor of Breton design. It was the rags worn by the Forsworn. Not everyone had been special enough to get an upgrade in armor. Seeing how revealing the woman's choice of clothing was I realized why she used ice magic. If it would be miserable for her to be cold then she would make others cold as well.

"Heads!" I shouted over the chaos of the battle. Every time one of my men fell he rose again to fight his former comrades. "Aim for their heads! Behead them! Split their skulls!"

With a new battle plan my living soldiers slowly turned the tide. The dead were not as agile or strong as the living Stormcloaks.

Soon after the last undead Nord was killed we fell upon the necromancers. One man with black hair and large sideburns stepped forward. "You think you can stop the Reachmen? We live and die for our home!" Fire burst from his hands.

"Too bad it's also home to the Nords." My sword cut through his robes and both hands crashed to the ground. The flames dissipated as the blood began to fly. The mages did not stand much of a chance and soon began to surrender. The man who I had maimed was actually Ennoch.

With the prisoners bound and gagged and survivors armed and fed we turned from the village to head back to Windhelm.

Then the crimson and red Imperial Dragon banner came out of the trees.