The rains had softened by the time Kanaan and Orok had re-armed and armored, but were by no means over. It was clear that the storm would remain overnight, maybe even into the next day; however Kanaan admitted that he could be wrong. He was, after all, a stranger to Skyrim, and unaccustomed to the weather patterns in this foreign land.
"How high up does this damned hill go?" asked Orok, as the two trudged up the sodden streets of the main road through the city. Orok had armed himself in steel plate, with mail and cotton undercoat. He carried with him an ebony longaxe, held in one hand and leaning against his shoulder.
"Shouldn't be much further," replied Kanaan, eyeing the axe. "Where did you get that axe? Ebony isn't easy to find, and weapons made from them are even rarer."
"Not at Narzulbur," Orok responded. "Gloombound Mine is one of the best places to find ebony ore outside of Morrowind, and you only get in if you're an Orc or if the strongholds declare you as blood-kin. I mined the ore, I smelted it, and I forged this axe."
Orok handed it over to Kanaan, and watched as he struggled with the weight of the weapon, laughing. "You Redguard may be great warriors, but even your uncle wasn't a fan of heavy weapons. He preferred the spear and shield to the axe, or even a greatsword."
Kanaan laughed, handing Orok back his axe. "What was he like? My uncle, I mean. My father never talked much about him, only when we would ask. And even then, it was only about his time in the legion, not about who he was as a person."
"Well, Adnaan wasn't what you would call brave," he answered. "He was a soldier, not a warrior. He could follow orders, and give commands, but he didn't have a warrior's instincts."
"Are you calling him a coward?" Kanaan asked, incredulously.
"Not at all. He was a damn fine soldier. Kept us lot in line when it looked like we were about to break on the Bane Peninsula, got us across the Alik'r, he even found a way to hold a crossing on the Chose River, up in the Cortens. Eighty legionnaires, twenty camp supporters, and we held the crossing against six hundred Elves." Orok had a stern face on, staring forwards, but not at anything in particular. Kanaan could tell that his focus was shifting. "Six. Hundred. Killed about a hundred when they charged our shield wall, another fifty when they charged a second time. Damn fools thought they could break us, but we never broke. We held out until we got our reinforcements, then the cowards retreated." Suddenly, as if woken from a dream, his tone shifted, and he turned back to Kanaan. "Sorry, the memories came back and I felt like I was there again. On that damned river. But your uncle saw us through that day, and years after it. Up until he split with us."
Kanaan looked down to his boots, stained with the sloshing mud, then back up at the road. "We're here. Dragonsreach."
The steps leading up to the castle went up the hill, across stone pools and man-made waterfalls that ran down the hill through the city, now overflowing from the rainfall. The central courtyard held another, much larger pool, with a wooden bridge running across it and leading straight to two large doors, covered by four great wooden arches. Two guards stood at the front end of the bridge by the stairs. "What's your business in Dragonsreach at this late hour?"
"We heard there was a survivor from Helgen," replied Orok. "My companion and I wanted to speak with him."
The guard that spoke was unmoved. "That's not good enough. Get out of here before I have to throw you down the hill."
Kanaan stepped forward. "My name is Kanaan Ashraf," he said, "son of Hamid Ashraf of Sentinel. I was sent by my father to treat with the Jarl of Whiterun on confidential matters." He motioned to Orok. "This Orc is my personal bodyguard. I apologize for his foolish behavior." Orok made to speak up, but Kanaan elbowed him in the side. "I need to speak with the Jarl immediately. Let us through, and I'll make it worth your while." He reached into the side fold of his armor and pulled out a small pouch of septims, placing it into the hand of the guard. "Eighty septims. Forty for the both of you."
The guards exchanged a look, and nodded. "Fine. You may pass. But cause any trouble and I'll execute you both myself."
As they crossed the bridge, Orok grumbled at Kanaan. "What's this crap about being your bodyguard? And what the hell is this about being here on your father's orders?"
Kanaan smiled. "Sometimes, you just have to embellish a bit on the truth in order to get things done quickly. And it helps that my family has the gold reserves to afford the bribes that come with it."
"So you're rich?"
"Not as rich as Emperor Mede, or the former High King, but do you know the Silver-Bloods of Markarth?"
Orok nodded.
"Peasants compared to my family. But at least we use our gold to help our people instead of hoarding it and exploiting slave labor. Come on, let's get inside."
The interior of the castle was massive. The entryway was wide open, with two carpeted side wings around columns that stretched to the ceiling high above the doorway. A set of stairs led up to the main hall, where a large fire pit sat in the center of the room, much like that in the Bannered Mare, only much longer. On either side sat twin long tables, adorned with silver candleholders, plates, and silverware. At the head of the room on a dais sat the Jarl, a slender, blond-haired Nord man of about forty. Above him, mounted on the wall, rested a skeletal dragon's head.
Standing beside the Jarl was a heavily muscled Nord man, bald-headed, in scaled armor with his arms bared. To his other side stood a Dunmer woman, clad in boiled leather, with her brown hair tied back revealing her bluish-purple skin. Before the Jarl stood a person in a heavy black cloak, with long, bushy brown hair. As Kanaan and Orok approached the dais, the Dunmer warrior drew her blade and approached them. "What is your business here? Speak quickly!"
"We had heard there was a survivor from Helgen," Kanaan answered. "The two of us are travelling warriors, and we were hoping that if there were truly a dragon on the loose, we could offer our assistance."
The Dunmer sheathed her blade, but her face remained stiff and unwelcoming. "Jarl Balgruuf has no need of mercenaries at this time. You found the entrance easily enough, you can use it to see yourselves out."
As she turned to walk away, Kanaan made to follow her, but she moved so fast it was as if she'd predicted his move. She swung backwards, kicking the back of his forward leg behind the knee, and shoving at his breastplate. Kanaan lost his balance and fell backwards, his armor crashing against the ground and making enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of everyone in the great hall, as well as a booming laugh from Orok.
"Irileth, what is the meaning of this?" demanded the Jarl.
"These men are mercenaries seeking glory, nothing more," the Dunmer replied. "I instructed them to leave, this one attempted to approach, and I put him down."
Jarl Balgruuf eyed Kanaan and Orok suspiciously, rubbing his chin. "Let them approach. I would like to hear what they have to say, and we may just have use for them yet."
Orok helped Kanaan to his feet, still laughing. They approached the dais, following the Dunmer, and stood before the Jarl. They stood to either side of the cloaked person, and as Kanaan stepped forward, he could see that it was a Nord woman. She wore an expression on her face that was a mix of sadness and fear. Though, if she had truly survived a dragon attack, the look was completely warranted.
"Tell me," asked the Jarl, "who are you? What are your names? And why are you truly here?"
"I am Kanaan Ashraf of the Ashraf family of Sentinel," answered Kanaan, "and this is Orok gro-Uftharz, former legionnaire and now…" he paused, uncertain of Orok's current occupation.
"I used to be a mercenary, but if it gets me a chance to test my strength against a dragon, I'll do it for free," Orok finished.
Kanaan shot him a quick glance, and then returned his gaze to the Jarl. "I suppose now that just makes him my travelling companion. We're not mercenaries, Jarl Balgruuf. We don't seek rewards, or treasure, or anything of the sort. Dragons haven't been seen for ages. My friend and I would like to offer our services to you to help deal with this dragon, if at all possible."
The Jarl smiled. "You're just in luck. This woman here just finished telling me about what happened at Helgen. Would you kindly fill them in?"
The scared woman nodded, and turned to them. "The Imperials had captured Ulfric Stormcloak," she said, speaking in a soft, almost quiet voice. "He'd been travelling with a group of his men near the road between Helgen and Ivarstead. They captured me along with the Stormcloaks, because I'd been nearby hunting wild goats, and assumed I was one of them. They took us to Helgen for… for execution. I was next up on the block, when it… it came." Her eyes widened, and Kanaan could see in them a mixture of fear and wonder. "A great black dragon landed atop the tower, and used some sort of magic. The sky turned dark and cloudy, and it began to rain fiery rocks, and-"
"Quickly," interrupted the Jarl, exasperated, "time is short."
"Yes, my Jarl," she replied before continuing. "Well, I managed to escape to Riverwood with the help of a legionnaire, and the dragon flew off past the mountains and towards Whiterun. Also, Ulfric Stormcloak escaped. I thought that was important, too," she added, almost as an afterthought.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," muttered the Jarl. "I should have known he'd have something to do with this." He rose from his chair, and stepped forward. "In any case, you may be of some use to me. All three of you. My court wizard, Farengar, has recently been doing research into ancient dragons, and how they fit into the history of Skyrim. I believe he has a task for his research that needs to be completed. Follow me, I'll let him explain it to you."
As the three turned to follow the Jarl, Kanaan approached the woman. "So who are you?"
She gave him a brief glance, and then looked away. "I'm Katrine. So you're what, a lord over in Hammerfell somewhere?"
Kanaan smiled. "Son of a lord, my father is a lord. I'm just a humble member of the nobility."
Katrine snorted. "'A humble member of the nobility', huh? How humble is it to brag about your background?"
"I never bragged, my lady, I just-"
"I'm no lady," she interrupted. "Now if you don't mind, let's just get to the wizard and hear what he has to say." She promptly sped up her pace and moved ahead of Kanaan and Orok.
"What do you think her problem is?" asked the Orc.
Kanaan shrugged. "No clue. But I think if we'd seen the things she's seen at Helgen, we'd be the same way."
Orok snorted, then chuckled. "I've seen men and mer alike get their heads sliced in half, torn apart at the limbs, eviscerated, and just downright pulverized. I've seen more bloodshed in my lifetime than most men would see in three. And here I am, laughing and joking with you."
"Yes, but you've had decades to process that violence and bloodshed. For her, it was only yesterday."
They followed the Jarl to a small room in the east wing of the castle. The inside of the room was quite spacious, though still not half as large as the Great Hall. A great map of Skyrim adorned an entire wall, with areas marked by red and green-headed pins, though the red far outnumbered the green. Against the back wall were two stone stands, one designed for the use of alchemy and the other for the practice of enchanting. A large round wooden table sat next to an imposing oak desk, behind which sat a Nord man clad in blue robes, busily scrawling on parchment with a quill and ink. As the group entered the room, he looked up from his notes, and quickly looked back down on them.
"Farengar, I've brought you some new assistants," announced the Jarl. "I thought they could help you with that project you had asked me about."
The wizard Farengar stood, smoothed out his robes, and approached. "Yes, I would hope so. I've been in need of assistants that can fetch an important artifact for me."
Orok folded his arms and chuckled. "Surely that can't be all, mage. There must be something you're not telling us."
Farengar's eyes widened as he met Orok's gaze. "You're smarter than you look, Orc," he said amiably. "But yes, I admit, it should be rather difficult. When I say fetch, I really mean dive into an ancient Nord tomb in search of something that may or may not even be there. An ancient stone tablet, my source has told me it should be interred in the main chamber. However, they've never been there to see it firsthand."
"What does this have to do with the dragons?" asked Kanaan.
"Ahh, you're no mere brute mercenary," Farengar said as his face became a smile, "you're a thinker. Perhaps even a scholar? According to my source, the stone tablet is something called a 'dragon stone'. It supposedly contains information on locations relating to the dragons of ancient times, however what that information may be remains a secret. Until you bring me the stone and I can study it, that is."
"So where is it we'll be going?" asked Katrine.
"As I said, it's in a Nord tomb known as Bleak Falls barrow, not too far from here, in fact. If you take the road south and east to Riverwood, the locals should be able to point you in the right direction." He opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment, handing it to Katrine. "But just in case, here's a map of the area. It's not particularly well detailed, however it should help you find the general direction."
"The three of you should have no trouble retrieving this artifact," the Jarl chimed in. "You can spend the night here in the castle. I'll have the spare rooms prepared for you."
"Actually," Kanaan voiced, "I already have a room at the Bannered Mare. My belongings are still there, and I've already paid for the room for three days."
"Don't worry about it," laughed the Jarl. "I'll reimburse you what you paid for the room, and have your things brought up immediately. I'll do the same for your friend as well. We have meat and mead available in the Great Hall if you're hungry or thirsty. I'll send my steward to have his people prepare the rooms immediately. Get some rest, the three of you will need to be well rested for tomorrow."