Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the gaming franchise Elder Scrolls by Bethesda Game Studios nor am in any way associated with them or their affiliates other than through the purchasing of their products.
Author's Note: So, chapter two, up and ready to go. I considered throwing in a bit of a crawl through Embershard Mine for Gio, but I don't want this chapter to be as long, and there isn't much in the mine for him, so I might go back to it later on for a bounty or something. Until then, enjoy.
Chapter 2: Imperials and Stormcloaks
"I think it's gone for good this time," Ralof said, standing up from his hiding place behind a border and watching as the black dragon glided away towards the mountains in the distance. "Come on, foreigner. We'd best be out of here before Imperials start crawling around looking for us."
He turned to face me. "I'm going to go to Riverwood. My sister runs a mill there. I'd appreciate it if you came with me, but it's probably for the best that we split up."
"You wish," I stated blandly. "You still owe me an explanation on this Imperial and Stormcloak business."
"Aye, I do, don't I? Wait until we reach my sister's house. It'd be wiser that we converse away from any eavesdroppers or the dangers of Skyrim's wilds."
"So who is your sister?" I asked as we started down the dirt road at a trot.
"Her name is Gerdur. She lives with her husband Hod in Riverwood. They run the village's wood mill. Riverwood has no appointed leaders, but they probably would be those leaders in terms of wealth and with how informed they are. Gerdur will definitely be able to help shed some light on our situation."
As we reached a bend in the road, Ralof stopped us.
"Guardian Stones," he said, pointing to a triangle of stones taller than I was inscribed with runes and pictures of men dressed in various garments. On one stone was a man in a robe carrying a stave; the second was a man in a hood with a drawn knife; and the last had a man bearing a sword and shield and wearing a helmet.
"You should pray to them," Ralof suggested. "If you do, the gods may offer you strength."
"Pray…to the stones?" I inquired.
"Aye. Us Nords usually would pray to Warrior Stones. Bretons are fond of the Mage Stone, and Redguard are ones for the Thief Stone. The Imperials don't pray due to a treaty that they have the high elves, the Thalmor." The big man shrugged. "But, it's your decision. It's considered bad luck, but you could pray to all three if you like."
I gazed at the three triangular pillars. I could understand why the Imperials and Thalmor would be against it; praying to a rock seemed ludicrous. But, by this point, I needed all the help I could get.
I bowed before the three runic pillars, ducking my head and asking to seemingly no one in particular with my thoughts for them to lend me aid in my coming journey. It seemed ridiculous at first, but I could feel my muscles loosening up, while simultaneously they grew stronger along with my bones. A deep knowledge seemed to pour forth into me, and I felt as though I alone could take down a whole legion and a dragon.
"Well I'll be," I heard Ralof say. "Never seen 'em do that before."
I looked up at the stones. Within their round hollows that were like eyes of the stones ringed with bronze, blue orbs of light hovered. And shooting skyward from the pinnacles of the pillars were beams of light, piercing the thick clouds high above and leaving my sight. After a few moments, the light faded before completely dissipating.
"I'm no clergyman," Ralof said matter of factly, "but I'd say that the gods have answered your prayers."
"Perhaps," I muttered, my gaze still on the sky. Maybe this had something to do with who I was, who I was meant to become. But that was beyond me.
"We should get going," Ralof said. "I want to get to Riverwood before it gets dark." He grinned at me. "You know, I'm actually kind of envious of you. The gods must like scrawny, ugly foreigners."
"My name is Gio," I growled under my breath as Ralof turned and trotted away. I followed after him, brushing the dirt from my pants.
We continued for about another league when I caught sight of something in the distance on the other side of the river we hiked alongside. It was mountain, but way up high on its peak, I could see some sort of ruins.
"Ralof, what is that?" I asked, nodding in the direction of the mountain.
"Bleakfalls Barrow," he informed me. "It's an abandoned keep from the old days. My father always warned me of ruins like it; said that if I got to close, the drougr would wake up and attack me." He chuckled softly to himself. "I used to be so scared, living in that damned shadow. I used to fear that the drougr would climb down the mountain and crawl through my bedroom window and get me in my sleep. Even now, the barrow gives me the creeps. Gives all of Skyrim the creeps, save what few bandits are stupid enough to try and plunder its treasures."
He pointed ahead of us to a low wooden wall. "Look, it's Riverwood. We arrived sooner than I was expecting. Pity, I was going to show you the old mine along the way. Must've missed it."
We slowed down to a quick walk. There were guards patrolling the wall, but they ignored us for the most part.
"Gerdur will be working about now," Ralof said. "Follow me to the mill."
As we passed through the village, I noticed that life seemed peaceful despite the dragon attack on Helgen. It seemed as though the tiny riverside village had been spared. There were plenty of guards, all wearing ruddy yellow leather armor and bearing wooden shields with either a war axe or sword belted at their hips, but the lack of proper defensive structures like towers or a fortress would work against them.
"Gerdur!" Ralof called to a woman who was doubled over chopping logs.
"Ralof?" she replied. She turned around, and when she spotted the big blonde, she smiled genially. "Why, Ralof! It's been so long brother. Where have you been?"
"Ralof, if it isn't my favorite brother-in-law," I heard a man say. A bulky Nord man approached us, clapping a big hand on Ralof's shoulder. "Here to tell tales of glory fighting for the Stormcloaks over a pint?"
"Gods, man, as if you need any more mead," Gerdur said. "So why are you here, Ralof? And who is this young man? He wears the Stormcloak colors, but I don't think I recognize him."
"This is the foreigner," Ralof said, earning a private scowl from me. "We were brothers in binds, headed to Helgen so we could meet our makers."
"Only you could get into such trouble, Ralof. So, what happened?"
"I was actually hoping we could discuss this more inside."
"Oh, of course. Last thing we need is Imperial ears overhearing our conversation."
Gerdur and Hod took the lead, guiding us to the opposite side of the village.
"So where are you from, foreigner?" Gerdur asked me as we walked.
"Don't bother," Ralof said. "He's not a big talker, and doesn't have any clue about his past. Beyond his awakening in the back of an Imperial prison wagon, he doesn't have any memory. He must've taken a hammer to the head when he walked into that ambush."
"Ambush?"
"I'll explain it all later."
We reached the house, a small little thing, and Gerdur produced a key and unlocked it. We walked inside of the one room building, the Nord woman shutting and barring the door behind us.
"Now, tell us everything," Gerdur insisted as we all sat down at a table.
And so Ralof recounted the events prior in great detail, even some from before my memory during an Imperial ambush where he and the other Stormcloaks had been captured. Meanwhile, I munched on some bread and cheese while sipping at a tankard of some sort of ale, reading the blue tome I'd picked up back in the torture room. It was a guide on how to channel one's inner energy in order to cast a magic spell called sparks. It described the spell to be a rather easy one to cast, known by most all mages, but I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it.
"That's why Nords rely on our strength instead of fancy tricks," Hod said to me when I asked him if he understood.
"A dragon at Helgen," Gerdur said thoughtfully as Ralof concluded his tale. "You're sure of this?"
"As sure as I am that Ulfric is the true High King."
"Gods help us if you're right," she said. "So, what are you going to do then, brother?"
"Return to Windhelm and Jarl Ulfric. There's nothing else I can do. Although, I could send word to Whiterun and perhaps they might send more men to reinforce Riverwood. That's really out of the way, though."
"I could do it," I offered. "But first, I still need an explanation on the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. Who are they?"
"The Imperials are a people from the Empire, Cyrodiil," Gerdur explained. "For a long time, they've controlled Skyrim as their leader was also our High King. One day, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm challenged the High King in a formal duel to the death for the throne as High King of all Skyrim. The High King was old and weak, but he accepted the formal challenge, and was defeated. Traditionally, that would have made Ulfric new High King, except the Empire didn't like the Nord tradition and how it unshackled Skyrim from their control, so they didn't allow Ulfric the throne."
"And so the Stormcloak rebellion began," Ralof said. "For a time, we'd nearly beaten the Empire and their Imperial Legion back, but they made a truce with the Thalmor high elves. Part of their peace treaty was the outlawing of god worship, a tradition in Skyrim older than that tradition that should have made Ulfric king. Although, all that's done is fuel the rage of the people of Skyrim."
"Interesting," I said. "So, why do you call yourselves Stormcloaks?"
"It was actually a title bestowed to us by the Imperials to poke fun at us for being on Ulfric Stormcloak's side," Ralof said. "But we grew to love it, for I described us perfectly. We would fall upon the Empire and ravage them and all our enemies like a vicious storm, while we protect our brothers and sisters of Skyrim like a warm cloak."
"I understand it now," I said. "So the Imperials have been outlawing Nordic tradition after tradition, so you all got pissed and rebelled."
They all stared blankly at me for a moment, and I'd feared that perhaps I'd worded my statement poorly. But I felt at ease once more when Hod and Ralof let out a chorus of hearty laughter, mead sloshing from their tankards, and Gerdur gave a pleasant grin.
"Sister," Ralof said earnestly, turning to face Gerdur. "We've had a long day, and have no place to stay. If you wouldn't mind, could we sleep here for the night? If it's any trouble, we could always rent a room at the Sleeping Giant."
"It's fine brother," she said. She turned to me, holding out a hand to me that held a small key. "Take this, foreigner. It's a key to the house. Anytime that you need someplace to go, don't be afraid to invite yourself in."
"Don't worry about him being afraid to come in," Ralof said. "You should see him pick a lock. He must've been a bandit in a past life."
"Also, take any food for the road," Gerdur said, ignoring her brother. "We have plenty of gold as well, and some potions."
"Thank you, Gerdur," I said appreciatively. "But, do you have a local smith? This armor fits awkwardly on me."
"Yes, just down the road. Alvor runs a forge outside of his house. His nephew fights for the Imperial Legion, but he's a good man. If he's not in the forge, he's probably inside drinking mead."
"Thank you. I'll go pay him a visit."
I stood up from the table and left the house, leaving the family members on their own. Gerdur's instructions were vague, but Riverwood was small enough that I spotted the forge easily enough. As I looked around the small patio were it was set up, I noticed plenty of fine blades and impressive horned helmets, but Alvor didn't appear to be out.
"Need something, stranger?" I heard a man say behind me as I was examining an impressive blade of some sort of steel.
I turned and saw a blonde Nord man who looked somewhat familiar standing behind me.
"Are you Alvor?" I asked him, putting the sword carefully back down on the workbench where I found it.
"Aye, that I am. You need something?" He was eyeing my Stormcloak cuirass critically.
"Gerdur told me you were a smith in these parts. My armor was forged for a bigger man, and it fits uncomfortably. That and I could use a couple of swords."
"I can do armor alterations," he said. "Don't have the materials to make you something in Stormcloak fashion from scratch."
"That's okay," I assured him. "I'm not actually on either side. I'm just…borrowing this from a friend of a friend."
"Sounds fine by me," Alvor said, his tone lightening. "Except, I truly don't have any supplies right now to make anything. You could stop by the Riverwood Trader and see what they have up for sale there."
"Uncle, I wasn't done telling you my story yet," a voice that I definitely recognized called. A broad man with brown hair walked around the corner, stopping in his tracks when he saw me.
"Gio?" Hadvar asked cautiously.
"Hadvar?" I replied.
A huge grin spread across his face and he took two large steps toward me, grasping my forearm.
"Gods am I glad to see you're safe," he said enthusiastically. "Turned my back to you for one damned second and where you were standing there was that black monstrosity. I was afraid it'd eaten you."
"Don't offend me," I said, feeling as though I was talking to an old friend. "As if some glorified lizard will be my demise."
He grinned, but let both the smile and my arm drop when he noticed my blue armor.
"You're a Stormcloak?" he said disbelievingly.
"No, not really," I said. "I needed armor, and this was all that was available. I just stopped by actually looking for your uncle to make me some, but it would seem as though he's all out of supplies."
"Wish I could change my mind, knowing that you know my nephew," Alvor said. "But, it's true. I have some stuff up for sale, but you aren't big enough to wear the armor I craft. I have some great swords and battle axes in stock, though."
"I'll stick with these," I said patting the hilts of my Imperial blades. "Maybe I'll stop by the Trader though, just to look around."
"Be sure to visit, Gio," Hadvar told me.
"Aye, I will," I assured him. "But, while I'm here, tell me something: why the Empire? I'd imagine that a Nord would fight for the Stormcloaks."
"Because Ulfric is a damned barbarian and usurper who abuses the power given to him," the soldier spat.
"What do you mean? I've heard a little about this civil war, but it was a one-sided opinion. The person I'd heard it from said that Ulfric had made a formal challenge to the High King and won. Meaning that he should be king. They said that the late king was weak and unfit to rule Skyrim."
"Obviously you heard this from one of the rebels. Yes, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm made a formal challenge to the High King of Skyrim, but the bastard cheated. He only won through use of the Voice. He has no honor. And to make it worse, he supports racism against the other people of Skyrim, primarily targeting the elves. High elf, dark elf, wood elf, or even the Khajit or Argonians; if they aren't Nord, they aren't a part of his ideals."
"I hear you on that subject. But why accept that treaty with the Thalmor? It outlaws many of the traditions of Skyrim, which certainly will only fuel the people's rage and hate towards the Empire."
"I don't know that many details," Hadvar said. "I'm just a soldier. But the Stormcloaks had us backed into a corner, and we had no choice but to accept the elves' terms."
I hummed thoughtfully to myself. Why would the elves care? I considered asking Hadvar this, but he didn't even know the full details about the treaty between them or why it was accepted despite its harsh terms.
"Well, thank you," I said. "I'll be going now. I hope to see you again, though preferably not when I'm about to be executed."
"That would be nice. Farewell, friend."
I started down the road towards the large building with a sign hanging out before it that read "The Riverwood Trader".
I stepped in through the door, ringing a bell as it swung open. Inside, there was a man and a woman, Imperial by the looks of them, arguing over something.
"Just let it go, brother!" the woman said. "It's not worth risking your life over!"
"I can't just sit idly by and do nothing about it!" the man countered. He noticed me standing at the door, watching them curiously. "We can finish this later. We have a customer."
The woman looked over her shoulder at me, giving the man a final scowl before walking past me to sit down at a table in the room.
"Talk some sense into my brother, would you?" she said as she walked by me.
"What was that all about?" I asked the man, stepping up to the counter he stood behind.
"Nothing," he said. "We had a break-in recently is all."
"A break-in? Was anybody hurt?"
"No, my sister Camilla and I weren't home when it happened. See, some thieves picked the lock to our store. They stole this little trinket that's been in our family for generations. It was a golden dragon's claw, though it probably wasn't worth much. Of all the things that they could have stolen, that was the only thing they went after, oddly enough."
"Interesting… Any idea where the thieves might be headed?"
"The only local bandit camp that usually causes much trouble around here is based all the way in Bleak Falls Barrow. You wouldn't mind going to fetch for me now would you? I can't pay you up front, but I have a shipment of gold coming in that I could pay you with tomorrow. My name is Lucan, by the way. Lucan Valerius. My sister and I are the owners of the Riverwood Trader. Might I ask your name?"
"Call me Gio."
"Gio, huh?" the woman said, standing over from the table and walking over to us. "So, you're going after that old thing after all. You don't look like you're from around here. I'll take you to the Barrow, if you like."
"Absolutely not," Lucan said firmly. "It's too dangerous. You could get hurt."
"Don't worry," she insisted. "It's not like I'm going dungeon crawling. I'll take him to the spot and then turn around and come right back home."
"Fine. But you better not do anything foolish, you go that?"
"I'll be fine." She turned to face me. "Come on; let's go, Gio."
She grabbed me by my wrist, dragging me out of the store. She released me once the door was closed and we were on the street, heading for a different entrance to the village than I'd used before with Ralof.
"My name is Camilla, by the way," she said casually, almost as though we were old friends. Nearby, I could see a pair of men glowering at us. Or perhaps more properly at me.
She looked at me from the corner of her eye. "You don't look much like any of the common races of Skyrim. Your skin is fair like a Nord's, but you're hair is more like a Breton's or Redguard's. And you're so tall and lithe but at the same time so well muscled, like an ideal Imperial man. Where do you come from, stranger?"
"Beats me," I admitted. I didn't give her any other response.
"So, what? You're just some journeyman then, no home to go to?"
"You could say that."
Camilla hummed thoughtfully, almost erotically. "Well, whatever race you are, you should be careful. A charming man like yourself is bound to attract some pretty maidens, eager to get a bite of you."
She said that last part suggestively, and I realized what her game was. I was left desperate from an escape from this situation that I had no idea how to handle.
"There's a fork in the road ahead," I noted, searching for anyway out. "Which way do we go?"
Camilla chuckled softly before telling me to go left, bumping me lightly with her hip.
End Chapter
Author's Note: Another relatively long chapter for Gio Dragonsbane, but only a little more than half as long as the first one. I actually have surprisingly little to say this time, other than Favorite, Follow, Review, recommend this to your friends, and enjoy the Fun Fact.
Fun Fact: Camilla doesn't actually start getting flirty with the PC until you've cleared the quest The Golden Claw (which Gio is currently embarking on), and only goes as far as the bridge just outside of Riverwood. Also, following Ralof in the game will cause Hadvar to suddenly and mysteriously disappear off the face of the earth.