Chapter Fifty-Eight:

Political Vultures and War Mongers

The daedric armour was clunky, hard to move in, and extremely awkward to be in. But boy, did I ever feel like a siege tower. And one look at the Imperial soldiers informed me that they were every bit intimidated by the dark, sleek, and jagged armour. I probably could have jumped up and down in victory but that would give the opposite effect I was going for, so I called upon and maintained every last shred of self-control I could muster to appear the badass warrior I needed to be.

At the head of the few soldiers allowed within the halls of High Hrothgar was General Tullius, Legate Rikke and—unsurprisingly—Elenwen, who was to act as the voice of the Thalmor at the talk. She strode into the monastery as if she owned it, her nose stuck high in the air as she cast a distasteful look at the four old Greybeards who had come to meet the party.

Arngeir stepped forward (although I wouldn't have minded much if the others had something to say to Elenwen... and not in common tongue), his head inclining slightly. The soldiers stiffened, but Tullius and Elenwen acted indifferent to the act of respect.

"Welcome to High Hrothgar, General," Arngeir intoned modestly. "You are the first to arrive here. You are welcome during these talks, but I caution you to remain respectful of the peace and neutrality here at our abode."

"Thank-you for your hospitality, Master Greybeard," Tullius replied calmly. "I assure you my men will not engage in any conflicts within or without your halls so long as this accord is enacted."

Arngeir nodded. "Then we welcome you with open arms. If your soldiers would be so kind as to make themselves comfortable here..."

The Greybeards led the soldiers to the left of the entry hall, where they sat and spread out bedrolls in case the talks would take longer than planned. While Elenwen was busy scrutinizing the solid bricks of the monastery, General Tullius approached me and held his hand outstretched. Legate Rikke had already wandered off.

"I assume you're the Dragonborn," he said pointedly. "General Reman Tullius of the Imperial Legion. As is evident, I am a voice of the Empire for these talks."

I grasped his hand and shook, hoping my grip was in the least bit strong enough to make him see me on his level. "Nice to meet you officially, General," I responded. "I'm looking forward for the respite in the war."

"You sound confident."

"I am. Alduin must be defeated before we begin hacking at one another. And I look forward to going my own way afterward."

The general nodded, a smirk crinkling the wrinkles near his mouth. "Not staying up here with the Greybeards?"

"Too much to explore here in Skyrim, I'm afraid. Besides, it's bad form to be cooped up for too long."

"Agreed." Tullius shifted on his feet, his eyes skirting to the Thalmor pacing around the entryway. "When do you suppose the Stormcloaks will make their way here?"

"I have no idea. Sometime soon, hopefully."

Not long after, Jarl Balgruuf and Jarl Elisif arrived at High Hrothgar. Balgruuf looked at me strangely, but one glance at the Thalmor had him assume correctly, which I gathered from his nod to me. But it was my first time seeing Elisif, the Jarl of Solitude, and the late High King Torygg's widow. She was a Nord, as expected, with strawberry-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She had strode into the monastery with an air of confidence and authority, but I could see the worry that tried to hide beneath her eyes. I assumed she and I, even though she was a noble, were in a very similar boat with our fake portrayals.

"Jarl Elisif." Tullius beckoned her over to us, and she came, although with a disapproving frown. "This is the Dragonborn." He glanced at me. "What did you say your name was?"

Oh gods I didn't think about that!

Let it be known that while I was panicking in my head, my mouth slipped, "Elana Victus."

Elisif's brow furrowed, but she forced a smile on her face. Looking closely, I observed that she couldn't have been much older than myself. Nearer to thirty than twenty, but clearly still young. Torygg wasn't long on the throne, anyhow.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said cordially. "I am Elisif, Jarl of Solitude, here on behalf of the Empire."

"Good to meet you, Jarl Elisif. Was the journey smooth?"

"We had to avoid a Dragon on the way, but that was the only issue," she admitted. "Personally I'm looking forward to returning home after a successful peace council. Nothing would lift my spirits more than to see the people of Skyrim working in harmony once more to defeat a threat greater than themselves."

"This... conflict has taken its toll on us all, Jarl," Tullius agreed. "But we have to prepare for the worst before we think about the best."

For the second time, there was a heavy knock at the door. The Imperial soldiers, who had previously been interacting and joking with one another, suddenly became quiet. The tension stretched, but then the doors opened, and in came flooding the Stormcloaks. Ulfric was at the back of the procession with his general, Galmar Stone-Fist, whom I'd seen Ulfric speaking with when I'd had the greatest visit to Windhelm ever.

The soldiers removed their helmets and wordlessly made their way to the other side of the entry hall, spread their bedrolls and waited for word from their leader.

Arngeir approached Ulfric looking every bit the Greybeard, as well as the age. I felt bad for the guy. Solitude wasn't a word to describe the monastery any longer, and now he and the other masters were showing it.

"Well, this is certainly a change, Arngeir," Ulfric said boldly, gesturing to the Imperials. "Look at the company you keep now! And here I thought the solitude was to teach us something."

"Clearly it taught you nothing, Ulfric," replied the Greybeard. "But this is to be a peace council. You and your soldiers will respect the Imperials, and they shall do so in return. This is about the Dragons, not the war."

"Is it? I can see the Empire has brought an entire squad if things were to go sour."

"And as have you." Arngeir gestured to Ulfric's troops. "But I will give both factions the benefit of the doubt, and assume the soldiers are for the Dragons Alduin controls."

Ulfric shrugged nonchalantly. "Very well, Master Arngeir. It's good to be back, regardless. And you've hardly aged a day."

"Thank-you, Ulfric. And you are welcome here." Arngeir straightened. "There is wine in the dining hall, which we will be using for our talks. And there will be accommodations provided for the soldiers who came with their leaders, courtesy of the Dragonborn."

Ulfric marched past Tullius with barely a glance at the general, but Galmar glared at both Tullius and Elisif. No doubt he hoped to intimidate them for his leader. And while Elisif did her best not to cringe openly, I could see on her face how uncomfortable she'd become.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, hoping that I could emote my distaste without anyone thinking I was taking sides (which I wasn't, but the Stormcloaks were making it difficult).

Then the talking resumed, albeit quieter now that the soldiers were aware of one another's presence. Tullius, Balgruuf and Elisif soon followed after in a cluster of words and looks.

But before I even took a step to follow, a third party entered. And this only contained two people. Both were wearing heavy cloaks to shield them from the cold, but the female was wearing Akaviri armour—the style of the Blades.

"So, Arngeir, is it?" Delphine asked, shrugging off some of the snow. "You know why we're here. Are you going to let us in or not?"

Arngeir's usually neutral tone took a much harsher edge. "You were not invited here. You are not welcome here."

Delphine frowned at the older men. "We have as much right to be at this council as all of you. More, actually, since we were the ones that put the Dragonborn on this path."

My jaw dropped. Excuse me? I happen to recall meeting the Greybeards first!

"We know what path you've set her on," Arngeir responded, "but she has made a different choice. Paarthurnax is still safe from your malice."

"For now. The Blades' memory is long, as you know."

Esbern rubbed his hands together to warm them. "Delphine, we're not here to rehearse old grudges," he chastised her. "The matter at hand is urgent. Alduin must be stopped." Esbern looked directly at the Greybeards. "You wouldn't have called this council if you didn't agree. We know a great deal about the situation and the threat that Alduin poses to us all. You need us here if you want this council to succeed."

Arngeir considered Esbern's words thoughtfully. "Very well," the Greybeard finally agreed. "You may enter."

With a relieved sigh, I finally began to make my way to the dining hall, but Arngeir gently tapped my arm along the way. He smiled.

"So, you've done it. The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace." Then his smile faded as the Blades strode past us. Delphine glared at me. "I should not have agreed to host this council," continued the Greybeard. "The Greybeards have no business involving ourselves in such matters."

"This is our best chance to defeat Alduin," I told him. "I'll make them agree to peace if I need to drown them in wine."

"Peace?" Arngeir huffed. "I doubt it. They may put their weapons down for a moment, but only to gather strength for the next bloodletting. They are not yet tired of war. Far from it. Do you know the ancient Nord word for war? 'Season unending'... So it has proved. But regrets are pointless. Here we are." Arngeir nodded to Hiemdall (who was standing in a corner to match the three other Greybeards), and Hiemdall nodded back. Clearly they'd had some conversation I wasn't aware of. "Take your seat at the council table and let us see what wisdom we can find among these warriors of Skyrim."

I nodded and entered the dining hall. Tankards full of the ales we'd bought in Ivarstead were either in the hands of those ready to be seated or sat untouched on the oval-shaped table. The fire burned lowly at the centre, darkening the already steep shadows in the corners, and sharpened the look of the soldiers and negotiators in the room.

The only seat that appeared free at the table was at the far end. I got a few newer looks from Ulfric and Galmar (both of them had been too involved in bickering than observing), and a snide glance from Elenwen, but the Blades and the Imperials ignored the clunky armour. As I sat, Arngeir addressed the company from his spot at the head of the table.

"Now that everyone is here, please take your seats so we can begin," he instructed. "I hope we have all come here in the spirit of—."

"No!" Ulfric called, and jabbed a finger at the already-seated Elenwen. "You insult us by bringing her to this negotiation?! Your chief Talos-hunter?!"

Legate Rikke (who apparently had gone straight to the dining hall to avoid the impending arrival of Ulfric) crossed her arms and snorted. "That didn't take long," she grumbled.

"I have every right to be at this negotiation," the Thalmor replied with a sneer. "I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat."

"She's part of the Imperial delegation," Tullius told Ulfric harshly. "You can't dictate who I bring to this council."

"Please!" Arngeir called, seating himself. "If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere!" He sighed while eyes focused on him, then he looked straight down the table at me. "Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on this matter."

And then the eyes were focused on me. Hiding under the table seemed like a legitimate option.

With everyone clearly in earshot of his voice, Ulfric declared to me, "By Ysmir's beard, the nerve of those Imperial bastards, eh? To think that I would sit down at the same table with that... Thalmor bitch. Either she walks or I do!"

I considered it quietly, my armoured fingers tapping the stone. "We need to respect that a Thalmor representative has come all this way to attend this peace council, Ulfric," I said sternly. "However, I have full confidence that both Elisif and Tullius are fully aware of what would cross the lines of the White-Gold Concordat, and do not need a Thalmor here to dictate that. If anything becomes an infraction of that, then they will politely intervene. But the Thalmor, for now, have no business at the peace council between the Empire and the Stormcloaks."

While Ulfric frowned at me, he did reply, "I'm glad we agree on this."

Elenwen stood and glared at both of us. "Very well, Ulfric. Enjoy your petty victory. The Thalmor will treat with whatever government rules Skyrim. We would not think of interfering in your civil war."

"Ha!" bellowed Galmar. "Skyrim will never bow to the Thalmor! Unlike your Imperial friends here!"

Elenwen abruptly left the dining hall and marched to the entryway, stomping her feet all the way.

"You're lucky I respect the Greybeards' council, Galmar!" Legate Rikke called from the other side of the table as the rest of the standing company seated themselves.

"Legate!" Tullius intervened. "We represent the Empire here."

Rikke glared pointedly at Galmar. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"Now that that's settled," Arngeir said, "may we proceed?"

"I have something to say first," Ulfric interjected.

"Here we go..." Rikke mumbled.

"The only reason I agreed to attend this council was to deal with the Dragon menace," Ulfric explained. "There's nothing else to talk about, unless the Empire is finally ready to renounce its unjust claim to rule over the free people of Skyrim."

Rikke snorted. "I knew he wouldn't be able to resist..."

"We're here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the Dragons. Nothing more," continued Ulfric. "I consider even talking to the Empire a generous gesture."

"Are you done?" asked Tullius. "Did you just come here to make speeches? Or can we get down to business?"

"Yes, let's get this over with."

I rolled my eyes. "Really? There won't be anything more to stall us with now? In case you haven't noticed, your 'free people' are being pillaged and eaten by Dragons while you all bicker over a throne. So if there's anything else to say, say it now, or swallow it whole and let us get to the important matters at hand."

Ulfric stared at me as if I'd just insulted his mother.

"Are we ready to proceed?" Arngeir asked impatiently. When no more words were traded, Arngeir swivelled his head slowly throughout the room. "Jarl Ulfric. General Tullius. This council is unprecedented. We are gathered here at the Dragonborn's request. I ask that you all respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and do your best to begin the process of achieving a lasting peace in Skyrim. Who would like to open the negotiations?"

"We would, Master Arngeir," Ulfric declared.

At that point I wondered if Ulfric's mouth ever stayed closed.

"We want control of Markarth," Ulfric insisted. "That's our price for agreeing to a truce."

Elisif nearly boiled over with rage. "So that's why you're here, Ulfric?! You dare to insult the Greybeards by using this council to advance your own position?!"

"Jarl Elisif," Tullius said sternly, "I'll handle this."

"General, this is outrageous!" exclaimed Elisif. "You can't be taking this demand seriously! I thought we were here to discuss a truce?!"

"Elisif! I said I'd handle it." Taking a deep, calming breath, Tullius addressed Ulfric. "Ulfric, you can't seriously expect us to give up Markarth at the negotiating table. You hope to gain in council what you've been unable to take in battle, is that it?"

"I'm sure Jarl Ulfric does not expect something for nothing," Arngeir said patiently.

Legate Rikke crossed her arms. "Yes, that'd be entirely out of character," she growled.

"What would the Empire want in return?" Arngeir asked.

"Wait!" Elisif exclaimed. "General, you don't intend to just hand over Markarth to that... traitor?!"

"This is how the Empire repays us for our loyalty?" Balgruuf finally said crossly.

"Enough!" Tullius ordered. "First, let's be clear. This council wasn't my idea. I think it's a waste of time." He glared at Ulfric. "You are a traitor to the Empire, and deserve a traitors death! But I will at least negotiate in good faith." After one more deep breath, Tullius addressed me. "Since we're all here at your request, I'd like to hear what you think Markarth is worth."

If I could have rubbed my eyes, I would. But I noticed the scrutiny Tullius and Elisif were giving me. "General, Jarl Elisif and Balgruuf, and Legate Rikke, giving Markarth and the Reach to Ulfric Stormcloak would put the southern flank of Haafingar Hold at risk of Stormcloak attack. So I find that the best show of good faith and the most equal exchange would be the exchange of the Reach and Markarth for the Rift and Riften."

Surprise dotted the general's features. "Hmm... The Rift would help secure our communications with Cyrodiil as well..."

But Ulfric was less than pleased with the exchange. "The Dragonborn has spoken, Tullius," he growled. "Markarth will be ours. Now we'll see if there's anything behind your talk of good faith."

Tullius bristled. "I know you, Ulfric. If I hand over Markarth, you'll be ready with a new demand. You'll never defeat the Empire, and you know it. But you're willing to sacrifice thousands for your own selfish ambition. Soon enough I'll have you back under the headsman's axe, and this time there won't be any Dragon to save you!"

"Ha! As always, the Empire's fine words are worth nothing!"

"Stop!" shouted the frail voice of Esbern as he rose from his seat. "Are you so blind to our danger that you can't see past your petty disagreements?! Here you sit arguing about nothing while the fate of the land hangs in the balance!"

"Is he with you, Delphine?" Ulfric asked the woman at his side. "If so, I advise you to tell him to watch his tongue."

"He is with me," Delphine said sternly.

"And me," I agreed (considering I liked Esbern a heck of a lot more than Delphine).

Delphine slammed her fist on the table and surveyed the warlords. "And I advise you both to listen to what he has to say, before you do anything rash!"

Esbern nodded to me and Delphine in thanks, and then continued, "Don't you understand the danger? Don't you understand what the return of the Dragons means? Alduin has returned! The World-Eater! Even now, he devours the souls of your fallen comrades! He grows more powerful with every soldier slain in your pointless war! Can you not put aside your hatred for even one moment in the face of this mortal danger?!"

Tullius stared at Esbern. "I don't know about the end of the world, but this Dragon situation gotten out of hand. If this truce will help the Dragonborn here put an end to that menace, we both gain. Remember that, Ulfric. Now, back to the matter at hand..." He cleared his throat once Esbern sat again in his seat. "You know as well as I do that we can't hand over Markarth on these terms."

"Shor's bones, where will these demands end?" Galmar snarled.

"If you recall, Galmar, the only demands so far have been from the side of the Stormcloaks. A counter-demand is more than appropriate for the Empire at this point," I interjected.

Ulfric frowned. "Out with it, then."

"We want compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten," Tullius said gravely.

Rikke's fists clenched on the table. "You slaughtered the very people you claim to be fighting for! True sons of Skyrim would never do such things!"

"Damned Imperial lies!" Galmar thundered. "My men would never stoop to such methods, even retaliation for your butchery at—!"

"This is our homeland, Tullius!" put in Ulfric. "All the blood spilled in this war is on your head!"

"Like my husband's, Ulfric?!" Elisif nearly screamed. "Like Torygg's?! You started this war!"

Tullius put a hand on Elisif's shoulder to calm her, then he looked at me. "So, Dragonborn. What do you say?"

I didn't even need to think about that one. "Ulfric Stormcloak will compensate for the massacre at Karthwasten. Not only for the soldiers lost, but for the innocents harmed. Their families should have their grief in this ridiculous farce put to rest."

Tullius nodded. "Well said," he commented, then shifted his gaze to Ulfric. "For once you'll actually pay for your crimes. I suppose that's the fairest deal we're likely to get."

"It seems we may have an agreement," Arngeir observed. "Jarl Ulfric, General Tullius, these are the terms currently on the table: Markarth will be handed over to Ulfric's forces. Jarl Igmund will step down and Thongvor Silver-Blood will become the Jarl of Markarth. The Stormcloaks will withdraw from the Rift, allowing Imperial troops unhindered access. Jarl Laila Law-Giver will step down, and Maven Black-Briar will become the Jarl of Riften. The Stormcloaks will also pay appropriate compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten. You both agree to this?"

"The sons of Skyrim will live up to their agreements, as long as the Imperials hold to theirs," Ulfric insisted. "What about you, Elisif? Are these terms to your liking? Speak up, I'm sure General Tullius is waiting to do your bidding."

Elisif avoided Ulfric's gaze. "I have nothing to say to that murderer. General, you've proven yourself a good friend to Skyrim. I continue to trust you will do your utmost to safeguard our interests."

"Thank-you, Jarl Elisif," Tullius replied. "I appreciate your loyalty." He looked to Arngeir. "The Empire can live with these terms, yes. For a temporary truce, until the Dragon menace is dealt with. After that, Ulfric... there will be a reckoning. Count on it."

Ulfric glared at Tullius, then, standing and taking a long swig of whatever was in his tankard, he gestured to his lieutenant. "Come on, Galmar. We have a lot of work to do."

The Stormcloaks soon left the monastery, but the Empire remained still. Balgruuf sighed loudly and leaned back in his seat, his eyes lingering on me.

"Giving up Markarth is a heavy price for this truce, Dragonborn. I hope it was worth it," he commented.

"Believe me, Jarl, better to lose it now to Ulfric than later to the Dragons," I said calmly. "The war means nothing to anyone if the Dragons win it instead."

Arngeir nodded. "Jarl Balgruuf, I assume you are familiar with the Dragonborn's plan?"

"Yes," Balgruuf agreed. "I'm ready to do my part. Just say the word and my men will help you spring this trap."

"But the difficulty remains: how to lure a Dragon to Dragonsreach at all?"

"Well, that's an excellent question," Tullius put in. "You haven't overlooked that little detail, have you?"

Esbern grinned. "Ah. I believe I can be of help here. I anticipated the problem. While you were arranging this meeting, I was busy in the library of Sky Haven Temple. An unguessed trove of lost lore... but the important thing is that the Blades recorded many of the names of Dragons they slew. Cross-referencing this with Delphine's map of Dragon burial sites, I believe I've identified one of the Dragons that Alduin has raised up."

"How would this help?" Hiemdall asked suddenly, startling Elisif.

"Ah, don't you see?" Esbern inquired. "The names of the Dragons are always three Words of Power—Shouts. By calling the Dragon with the Voice, he will hear you wherever he might be."

"But would he come if called?" I asked.

Esbern shrugged. "He's not compelled to, but Dragons are prideful by nature and loath to refuse a challenge. Your Voice in particular is likely to intrigue this Dragon, after your victory over Alduin. I think it very likely that he will be unable to resist investigating your call."

I nodded slowly, considering. "So, what's this Dragon's name?"

"Ah, indeed. I'm no master of the Voice like these worthy gentlemen, but it is written here in this scroll..." Esbern slowly hobbled to his feet and staggered over. Clearly the excitement from before and the climb to High Hrothgar had worn him out. He removed a scroll from the pockets of his cloak and rolled it in front of me. "Od-Ah-Viing. 'Winged Snow Hunter', as I read it."

"Dragonborn." Legate Rikke nodded to me when I managed to pry my eyes from the scroll. "I hope this truce gives you what you need. It won't last."

I nodded back. "Thank-you all for your cooperation and aid. I won't forget it."