Chapter 2: Brave New World
It was a miracle I even made it to the tower.
The soldiers scrambled around, falling over their own men as they tried to attack the monster. Bursts of fire seared my skin a little, and I could barely see where I was going. Initially, it seemed the no-so-good townspeople of Helgen were on their own. I'm not a heartless woman, but that one old woman I saw get skewered by the dragon...she deserved it. I mean, she threw an apple at me. It was a waste a perfectly good apple! If she threw a melon at me, then I'd be impressed.
Once inside, I saw Ralof socializing about legends with Ulfric. I wasn't angry at him anymore. I tried to make sense of it all; how did this happen? A legend come to life? Ulfric did say one thing to that end, "Legends don't burn down villages."
If that was the case, then truer words were never spoken. I ran up the stairs and one of the Stormcloaks tried to move some rubble out of the way. That is...until the dragon's head broke through the wall! The poor rebel was knocked off the stairs to his death, and I would have fell myself had Ralof not caught me. We jumped down onto a partially burning roof. The Stormcloaks overcame the two Imperial soldiers inside, and noticed the plethrora of equipment inside. Lucky us, the Legion troops outside were preoccupied with not dying by dragon's breath...and failing miserably.
Inside the house were some weapons, apparently the place was a general store of some kind. The Stormcloak's own leader was the last to arrive. Ralof cut my bonds with an Imperial sword and threw it to Ulfric. Near the destroyed wall was the dismembered body of a third soldier, a woman. If the dress fits...
I relieved the poor Imperial of her clothes as I tore off my rags. Sure the woman's legs had been torn off, but the blood was only on the bottom of the robe. I didn't care about anything else. As I tried to hike the robe over my head, some of the others, especially Ralof and surprisingly the only female survivor, stared at me for a moment.
"Get a good look?" I said with a smile, yet dripped with acid. Some of the men snickered. Ulfric, thank the gods, wasn't looking at me. He peeked out the window trying to see where the Imperials were. I finally forced my way into the robes and Ulfric gathered the prison break outfit together.
"To freedom!" Ulfric shouted, "Spread out! Let nothing stand in our way!"
Freedom. I didn't really care about the Stormcloaks' cause...but the moment I filled my hands with fire, that was when I knew I was free. And suddenly, as I ran out into the chaos...I felt very small. I burned my way to the exit. I was free from the Imperials; freedom from the Dark Brotherhood, my father, and the coterie he worked for...that was a different story altogether.
The dragon would only have had better timing if it showed up a year and half ago in the Count's castle. Honestly, I don't know what was worse, being dragged naked from the lake accused of being a Stormcloak or facing those horrific, lewd looks in the Count's main hall as they paraded us around in scant clothing for his amusement.
Giles Roseni, my father, was in attendance that day. I will never forget that bawdy smile he had on his face. This was his little girl, his little Buttercup, having to degrade herself just so HE could live the high life. The expression on my father's face as a dragon burned him alive would have been worth all the gold in Daggerfall.
It took some time, but we managed to escape the chaos of Helgen. I stepped out of that cave and into the bright morning air. Above us though, the black flying monster, the dragon, tore the air above us and was gone onto the horizon. The massive mountain in front of us was a beautiful sight, as the trees and flowers that lined the small trail where Ralof and I stood. He offered the suggestion we split up.
I swore Ralof said something about going to Riverwood to meet his sister Gerdur. I agreed with that. Then there was something about joining the Stormcloaks or "the fight to free Skyrim" or something. I did not agree with that. The sound of bushes and my running was protest to that. After all, a thousand leagues between me and the Imperials was an excellent idea. I ran all the way to Riverwood after that. Well, not all the way; I mean, I had to catch my breath a few times.
By the time Ralof got to Riverwood, I was hunched over on the side of Gerdur's mill. As I gasped for air, all he could do was laugh. He took me to his sister and began discussing matters I already knew about or didn't care to know. I almost walked off, I was so bored and tired of listening to painfully obvious things about a gigantic dragon I already saw and survived.
After I got some mead in me, my mood was a little better. Mead was the Nord's cause of and solution to all life's problems...except dragons.
In retrospect, I may...not have handled that situation correctly. The only thing I had in common with them was that we both disliked the Empire's presence in Skyrim. I had no desire to be Annabelle, Stormcloak Warrior Princess at the moment. There was the fact a dragon barely saved me from having my head separated from my body, a legend that was just that...a LEGEND. I can only imagine those monsters under my bed I thought about when I was a child were going to pay me a visit back in the Sleeping Giant Inn if the "legend coming true" nonsense kept up!
And the reason I almost had my head separated from my body was because of these Stormcloaks!
Why in Tamriel I would join a group that guaranteed me to have more enemies? My father, the Dark Brotherhood, now the Imperials and a dragon...it was too much. I paced around my room at the inn. My head spun, I was sweating, I could barely sleep and that stupid bard said my eyes were red as a sunset sky. I literally had to reevaluate everything. I wasn't ready after all. I wasn't even close to being almost ready.
I was a stranger in a strange land. Back in High Rock, I knew every corner of Evermore. I could find any room in my house with my eyes closed. I could tell if a particular person was in a room by their scent. We walked on the mountain trail without a guide. Claire and I knew exactly where to jump off that cliff over the lake and not get hurt.
In Skyrim? I didn't know anything. I picked flowers that I didn't recognize. There were cities I'd never heard of along with Jarls and High Kings instead of Counts, Dukes, and regular kings. The Nords were like giants. The mountains felt they went into the heavens. Then there was the dragon that came out of my nightmares. Skyrim felt like a children's story gone horribly wrong.
One of the smallest lands in Tamriel...and it might as well have been Akavir. As I tried to fall asleep, I remembered best friend Claire's mother told me a very important thing when I was a child.
"Sweet thing, if you ever fall for an Altmer, I will shove an elven sword where the gods can't see."
...I remembered Claire's mother told me another very important thing.
"If you have a problem, first, ask how it happened and answer it."
In the town I wanted to escape, in Delphine's rundown inn, on the old warm bed, I could only think about the "how" of it all.
All my dreams: a home, a good spouse, children, an apple tree...they were all gone because my father wasn't the man he claimed. He worked for the Count's estate, an honorable job. He was the assistant of the Arcanist, the pinnacle of any mage user in our city. The old Arcanist, Cato, accidentally blew himself up during the 4E 197th Saturnalia festival's "light show". The Count appointed a new Arcanist from within. Soren Swyn was his name, the second youngest son of the Count. My father hated that man.
Imagine...the audacity of having to answer to someone barely older than twenty four summers! The old man bristled at the idea of calling that "callous upstart" by a proper name was just irritating, epecially since the older Zirke was the better choice. Needless to say, my father's employment didn't last long.
Of course, the real reason was that he was sacked was because he needed a more eager assistant; someone who didn't mind doing the leg work. It didn't help he got someone that was easier on the eyes: me.
That was the beginning of the end of our family, though none of us realized it yet. Soren was already married and was a consummate professional. The problem? Most people would have thought a doe-eyed seventeen year old girl in striking distance of the second most attractive man in Evermore was the reason I suddenly found mother and myself running for our lives.
Most people would have been wrong.
No, the truth was even more horrifying than that. It was ironic, given the...mansion incident...that Soren actually saved my life that night. He didn't blame me for what happened. If Mother hadn't warned him about...
The dream ended and my eyes opened once I heard a knock at the door.
"Are you feeling better?" said a voice. It was Gerdur. I popped up from my slumber.
To the left of my bed were two empty potion containers. It then hit me why I didn't feel so good the previous night. I was experimenting with some of the flowers I had picked on Delphine's alchemy stand. I must have mixed up something fierce because as I looked down at my robes, I realized I'd been sweating all night. All my doubt and nervous thoughts about my future certainly didn't help. Not to mention they smelled awful. Helgen's blood and gore were caked on along with all my sweat from last night.
"By all the..." I said in total shock. It amazed me that I didn't even think about any of this the previous day.
"Is everything alright?" Gerder asked, hearing me.
"Yes...um, do you have any place I can clean these robes of mine? I had a bit of a rough night."
"I can imagine. You were sweating like you were in the desert." I heard.
"I know what that feels like actually. Anyway, I've had these since Helgen. Blood, dirt and sweat are not a good combination."
"I can clean them for you. Don't worry about it."
"Yes, I'm going to...I'm going to change. Thanks for the...laundering offer."
I wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible; however, that wasn't to be. I had a spare set of tunics in my bag, so I changed out of the soaked mage robes and handed them to Gerdur through the cracked door. I felt horrible. I'd been rather...rude and bizarre since my initial meeting with the woman. I quickly smeared on some improvised perfume I mixed up, a recipe my mother taught me years ago.
"I noticed you were squirming around like a skeever yesterday. I'd thought maybe you'd come down with something. You were rather..." Girdur stopped herself.
"Irritable?" I replied through the door.
"Yes, exactly that."
I opened the door wearing a yellowish tunic I...'borrowed' from one of the dead villagers' closets in Helgen. "Well, my apologies."
"Anyway, are you heading to Whiterun?" she asked. My eyes bulged.
"Oh right..."
The day prior, Gerdur wanted me to go to Riverwood and warn the Jarl there about the dragon threat. I told her I would as soon as I got my bearings around town and the general area.
Sometime before my awful night, I realized one critical thing. I was...a little broke. I didn't have much money before I got to Skyrim anyway, but I had almost nothing after Helgen save about a 100 Septims. Gerdur offered me a few things I could take...one of them was a gold necklace. I asked her why she was giving it to me and she said she wasn't one for jewelry. I needed the coin though.
One thing I quickly learned was that this place had no shortage of problems to solve for gold. I sold the necklace, a few other things Gerdur let me have, the bits of loot I'd gotten from Helgen. I bought spellbooks listing the incantations of Fury and Frostbite to compliment the Shock one I found in Helgen. I also had made a few healing potions.
I bought my supplies at the Riverwood Trader. The shopkeep, Lucan Valerius, told me that thieves had stolen his prized heirloom...a Golden Claw. The bandits had retreated to an old ruin called Bleak Falls Barrow, that place everyone in the town said was haunted. Of course, Camilla, his sister, said it wasn't actually an heirloom...just something her brother found somewhere. I thought he probably stole it. Camilla agreed. She showed me how to get there and told me a little bit about the surrounding area.
She was the kind of person who wanted to do things herself. Her brother kept protesting about her wanting to take action, and I respected her resolve. She was an Imperial, but really didn't care about the war. Suddenly, I didn't want to leave the town in such a hurry. There were good people here...they didn't deserve Helgen's fate.
Maybe Helgen didn't deserve it after all, I came to think. Here I was one day wanting to leave as fast as I entered. Once I did what I should have done the day before...
Camilla was just trying to get by with her brother and their shop. I liked Camilla from the moment I met her; and I wasn't the only one. There was some silly love triangle going on between that bard and one of the millworkers. I could imagine what they'd feel if someone else came in and stole her away...and I'd laugh.
However, I told the siblings it would have to wait. The Dragon threat seemed...a little more important. Gerdur told me Whiterun was much larger and more diverse than Helgen. The people, including the Jarl, there were mostly neutral on loyalties between Imperials and Stormcloaks; exactly the kind of people that needed to be warned about a giant, fire-breathing monster.
As for seeking out the Brotherhood and the College of Winterhold...there was nothing but doubt. I wasn't lying when I said I needed to get my bearings. I came here to complete the task my mother and I set out to do. I was alone and had a mission the size of Nirn. The only way I was going to get the knowledge I needed was to venture out into the brave new world.
With that in mind, I did a little exploring around the village. I ran into some wolves along the way. I wasn't great with illusion magic, but the Fury spell provided a great amount of amusement when I got one wolf to kill the other. My own tinkling laugh surprised me though, once I burned the other wolf. I certainly couldn't wait to find they bandit lair the Jarl wanted taken down. Afterwards, I took the wolf pelt back to Alvor, the smith, and wanted to exchange the pelts for a simple sword. Alvor looked at me like I told him the sky was falling.
"Umm...I don't think a sword's for you. Someone slight of build might not be able to handle it effectively. Or height-challenged or..."
I put my hands on my hips. "Yes. Thanks for that."
He produced a small iron blade from the table. "I think you might want this. Pulls out and hides easily and it's has more uses than a sword."
I grabbed the dagger from him and stepped back. I swung the blade around like a drunkard for a moment. To be honest, I just wasn't that good at martial combat. I stopped when he began to speak again.
"Remember, switching to your dagger is faster than recharging."
My face fell flat. I looked away and shook my head.
"Really? Thanks for that piece of helpful information." I said with as much sarcastic venom as I could muster.
I swung the blade around again, this time a little slower as I tried to feel the weight of it.
Alvor actually stopped me and kindly took the blade from me, "Actually, maybe you shouldn't use a blade at all."
I was furious. The nerve of this man! I then noticed there was a similar looking iron-made dagger on the table near the leather rack. Alvor walked back to the small collection of blades on the opposing table. The look of shock on his face as he turned around to the sound of the dagger sticking out of the wall beside him. Never expected me to actually throw it at the wall! I then took the other one back from him as I gave him the pelts.
"I'll take it. Good day sir." I said in the kindest, sweetest voice I could. I almost skipped away.
I walked back to Gerdur's house once I was done with all the errands. Gerdur was on her way back to the mill when I entered the house. The mage robes were finally dry, so she handed them back to me.
I had my head down for a moment, then looked straight at her. Maybe last night was all that guilt piled on top of the sadness, loneliness and anger. The feelings I had since we were forced to leave Evermore all came out in a day. The desperation I had as I helped the Stormcloaks slay their way to freedom, as I burned anything in my path...
"Umm...listen, I know I haven't been the greatest guest but...thank you." I struggled out. Gerdur looked right at me.
"Don't worry about it. I know it's not easy being somewhere so many leagues from home; thrown into something you don't understand."
I sighed. Gerdur began to walk away, "Just stick to the roads and watch out for the Imperials. Once you get to Whiterun proper, you should be fine. You may not have wanted to be involved in this war...but the Imperials don't care. You know that all too well."
Damn her. She was right. Didn't matter though.
That dumb husband and annoying kid of hers were outside, so she left me alone. I changed into the robes, they were nice and warm and I would have to remember such an idea for the colder parts of Skyrim. I walked outside, then it hit me like a stone. I looked into the distance and everything I felt the previous night came back. I shook my head and sat down on the ground. I held my head in my hands, then I lifted my head, sighed and said to myself...
"How in Oblivion am I going to do this?"
"What? Go to Whiterun? It's simple, silly girl." a familiar man's voice said with a laugh. I looked up and saw the grizzled Stormcloak renegade himself, "You just follow the road."
"Thank you for the blatantly obvious, Ralof." I said as the man of the hour strolled up to my side, "For a wanted man, you sure forgot how to hide."
Ralof laughed again and leaned against the wood supporting the house's deck.
"I'm sure you'd know all about that. You never told me where you ran away from. You some princess escaping assassins?"
"Half right." I replied.
"Well, I can understand that...you don't have the disposition of a princess, that's for certain!" Ralof replied, laughing. However, his voice became serious again, "Whatever it was you did, I'm not judging you."
All the magical energy that flowed through my body couldn't conjure enough heat to match the anger I felt that short moment.
"I did nothing to be judged for!" I hissed back at him. I almost jumped off the ground when I faced him. Ralof didn't back away, but his face dropped a bit, but he quickly returned to that slightly stoic way he had about him.
Damn him, I thought. I felt my eyes water. The only way to fight it was to get angry. Ralof didn't know! The secrets I couldn't tell him or anyone. He had no idea what I'd been through, what my father did to me, what those men did to me in that prison for, what they did to all those girls who entered that farce of a...tournament.
I was being chased by a man who'd lied to me and mother for our entire lives. Him and his entire Rose Coterie were once just corrupt, greedy men and women of the nobility...now they were consumed by madness.
Ralos relaxed a bit, then put on a rare serious tone, "Well, I'll just say this. When I joined the Stormcloaks, there were a few of in a camp just outside Riften. Raw recruits, we were; some boys, a few ex-Legion, and a mill worker from Mixwater. I was with old friend of mine, Gunjar. The commander walked in front of us and told us where we were going. But the last thing he said was, 'Every battle begins with the first steps.' So you take that step, and you keep taking them...until you look up and you find yourself right where you needed to be."
I actually laughed. I wasn't expecting him to be so introspective.
"I guess. I just wonder why everything is so damn big in this land?!" I said, confused even at my own words, "I feel like a tiny fish in the ocean."
Ralof put his hand on my shoulder for a bit, "Well, we Nords have a thing for size. But don't worry...Ulfric once said that even the smallest of us can move mountains."
Ralof then walked inside. I wasn't sure if he was right about the latter. However, he was right about the former. I had to get moving. There was much to do and these matters wouldn't do themselves. I packed up my new spellbooks, potions, my green apples, my shiny dagger and the yellow tunic. I walked out into the afternoon air, took one step after the other, and found myself on the road to Whiterun.
That is, until someone ran up to me with a letter in hand...
Next: Chapter 3: The Merchant of Whiterun