Author's Note: Nanowrimo finally finished, thank the Divines! I hit my goals but it did not go smoothly. Fifty thousand words of total chaos, yikes! Oh, well. Back to my regularly scheduled chaos...

20: Business Not as Usual

Thorald felt the restlessness of an impending storm. It wasn't actually the weather, of course, the days had turned clear and cold. Normal for this time of year. But he felt an itchiness in the back of his mind. Nothing seemed settled and that was the problem.

Esbern was pushing to go to Riverwood to join Delphine. For awhile Thorald thought the old man would head out alone (which made him feel horribly guilty, especially with the Thalmor still out there somewhere) but Esbern and the court mage, Wylandriah, had hit it off immediately. The old Blade got absorbed in some project of hers. That was a relief because there was no way he could get Grelka to budge and he wasn't leaving without her. She had holed up in Balimund's smithy and was working compulsively on her project. Divines! He had known what would happen when he gave her those scales and he'd done it anyway. Now that she had her tools, there was no stopping her. The two children they'd rescued had disappeared on secret business of their own. That girl was no child but he couldn't help but think of her as such—she was just so little and cute. Etienne had also disappeared, on his own secret business. Seeking revenge, no doubt. The Thalmor had yet to resurface and Thorald hoped Ancano and his squad had taken the chance to slip quietly out of Riften and out of his life.

That, of course, would be way too easy.

Thorald had plenty to keep himself busy. But it felt like busy work because he couldn't figure out exactly what he should be doing next. Although just about everyone seemed to have their own plans for him.

The Greybeards expected him back in High Hrothgar. There was so much they could teach him, so much he needed to learn. But he couldn't see taking Grelka there. And to leave her now—no. And Esbern scorned the very idea of Thorald returning to the monastery. He didn't seem to think that learning Words of Power was very relevant. He assumed the Blades were going to re-form, now that they had their Dragonborn. As if he belonged to the Blades. As if they'd invented him. Esbern watched him with a proprietary eye that made Thorald more than a little uncomfortable.

Not that he totally disagreed. The idea had been building for some time that he needed a group of dragon fighters. That was what he was trying to accomplish in Riften—to train the city to defend itself. Surely Jarl Ulfric would free him for this task and lend Stormcloak support as well. And he had been thinking that some of the Companions would work with him on this. And they would—do what? Travel from city to city, training others? And maybe recruiting a few who would like to travel with them? All this while hunting for dragons. Was that so different from what Esbern proposed? Perhaps not.

For Thorald could feel it in his heart—these dragons they had killed were only the beginning. What was ahead was going to be a war. It would be a war like the old days, the Dragon War that Esbern spoke of time and time again. To fight a war, he was going to need an army.

How to gather this army, he was not sure. He'd been in the Stormcloaks long enough to know that war was complicated. An army needed food, supplies, armor, weapons. Horses. Gold. Training. A base of operations. It was overwhelming. But it had to be done. All he had to do to strengthen his resolve was to remember Helgen.

He had talked to Esbern and the old mage had horrified him. Esbern didn't think the dragons had returned to conquer and enslave Skyrim, hideous as that would be. He thought they were here to destroy Skyrim. He believed the black dragon was Alduin himself. The World-Eater. The Bringer of the End-Times. They were fighting a war of life and death, not just for Skyrim. For the whole world.

Thorald might wonder why he had been chosen to do this. He might wonder if he was capable. But he had no doubts that this was what he should be doing. If he could just figure out how, exactly.

Grelka had taken over Balimund's basement. Every so often, eyes red, hair in a tangle, she would wander out to forge fittings or grab some wire or leather strapping. Thorald, in the spirit of helpfulness, would thrust food at her. Or a bottle of mead. Once she ran out into the market square to Madesi's jewelry stand to look at his hands and feet. Expressionless as ever, the Argonian politely modeled his appendages for her.

"She's not mad, is she?" Balimund whispered after one of her brief appearances.

"Oh, no, she's perfectly sane. She gets this way sometimes. I used to think it was the Skyforge talking to her but now I think it comes from her own head. The fit will pass, don't worry. Da always said to leave her be and let her work."

"I didn't mean insane, just thought she might be angry for some reason. She seemed rather—intense."

"She always is." Thorald smiled. Should he expand on this? Probably not. "Don't worry. But." His smile turned to a grin. "I wouldn't suggest getting in her way."

Thorald was in the inn with Mjoll, grabbing a late lunch when the moment he'd been dreading (and anticipating) finally came. A dragon had been sighted! When the guard who reported the sighting ran out, they exchanged glances. Mjoll looked calm and ready.

"I'll tell Bolli and Bersi and we'll get the militia ready," she said.

"Good," he said. "I'll go up on the walls to—Oblivion, Grelka has my sword!" Mjoll grinned at his look of panicked dismay. "I'll be up shortly."

He ran to the smithy. The marketplace swarmed like a bee hive under attack. He ran through so fast and focused that he didn't notice he'd kicked over one of the food stand's braziers. Grelka met him at the door, her eyes wide. Clearly she had heard the news.

"My sword!" he said.

"I gave it a nice edge but come here! I need to get you in your armor. It's ready!"

"Armor?"

"Yeah, ice-brain, armor. It's finished. Well, it's not completely finished but it will have to do. Come here!" A determined hand closed around his arm and she dragged him downstairs to her workshop lair. He saw what was laid out on the workbench. He stared.

"It's—what is it?" he said.

"Shut up and put it on."

"How?"

"Come here." He didn't resist as she pushed and pulled at him, helping him into the new and strange armor.

"I've never seen anything like this."

"I don't suppose anyone has, this age. Kind of a shortage of materials. Esbern made me some sketches from memory, from his archives. He's a big dragon expert, you know."

"So I've heard," he said drily.

"Well, then. What do you think?"

Thorald made some experimental moves. "It's lighter than that mud crab chitin. It's not going to crack, is it?"

Grelka slapped his spiky helmet. "No! I tested it. It's strong. Look, I made a matching scabbard for your sword." She finished buckling him in. He grabbed her for a big kiss. She gave him a tired smile. "Go on out there. I'll be behind you in a bit. I tried making some arrows from the bone . Not sure how they'll fly but I've got steel as a backup."

He kissed her again. He ran out the side door towards the palace and totally missed the commotion in the market square.

The weather had been dry for days and the flimsy stands in the market square were built from scrap wood scavenged from the ongoing reconstruction work. The food stand flared up like it had been hit with a fireball. Haelga shrieked once, then dropped her basket and ran for the new fire alarm box mounted on the wall of the Bee and Barb. With trembling hands, she broke the wax seal and opened the box.

It was empty. No switch, no runes, nothing.

"Dibella help us!"

But the goddess wasn't needed. The moment they smelled smoke, every Dunmer in the market sprang into action. And there were quite a few—many had come out to try to see the dragon for themselves. Tythis Ulen dropped his armload of firewood and used his axe to knock some burning boxes out of the way, then began stamping out the flames. Romlyn Dreth poured his bottle of mead onto the burning stall. "That didn't do much."

"Fool," Niluva said. She was the janitor at Black-Briar Meadery. "Grab a blanket and soak it in the canal." She darted into the meadery and came out with a mop bucket full of dirty water. She dashed it into the flames. And finally the food vendor, Marise Aravel, threw a handful of what looked like fresh snow over the brazier at the heart of the fire. The flames went out.

"That was the last of my ice wraith teeth," Marise said. "Hope we don't have another fire." She looked over the square at Brand-Shei, who had drawn away in fear. "You may have been raised Argonian," she said. "But never forget, brother, you are one of us. Flames will not harm you."

Haelga grabbed her arm. "Look at this!" They both stared at the empty box.

"I paid double tax last year to install this fire system," Marise said slowly.

"We all did!" Haelga said.

"Yes. We all did."

"We've been cheated."

"Yes."

"I wonder if the jarl knows," Haelga said.

"So do I." Marise frowned. "When this is over, there will be an accounting. We must all insist on it. But for now, with a dragon on the way, I think we need to organize the fire watch like we used to. Will you help? Will you go to all the households and have everyone set out their buckets and stand ready?"

"Of course. I'll get my lodgers to help me."

Normally a relaxing, even a satisfying task, today Maven found reviewing the ledgers for the meadery an exercise in frustration. Nothing was going right and it wasn't her fault. Maven couldn't understand how she'd managed to surround herself with fools and incompetents. Hemming was too busy fantasizing about his own prowess and chasing loose women to keep his mind on his job. The meadery had operated at a loss—a heavy loss—ever since that idiot Brynjolf burned down the bee farm. The Thieves Guild produced excuses instead of profit and she hadn't failed to notice Mercer Frey's surly look the last time they met. He should have been groveling. Maybe clearing out the thieves would be her first act as jarl. That would be a popular decision.

Gold was running through her hands like water. The bribes were a necessary investment but if she wasn't careful she might find herself in financial embarrassment. She would tell Anuriel to sell that racehorse after all. She'd come up with another wedding gift. She smiled. Of course! She'd give the Vici woman a token share of the meadery! It needn't be more than a percent or two but that would give the emperor's cousin an incentive to use her ties with the East Empire Trading Company to negotiate discounted shipping rates on the honey Maven was going to have to import. They both would profit although Vici's profit would be in the future and hers would be in the present. Which was what counted. Who knew what the future would bring?

Anuriel burst into her room, panting and eyes wide with fear.

"What is it?" Maven asked sharply.

"A dragon! Headed this way!"

"Has it attacked the city?"

"It's not here yet. The guards just spotted it."

"And you came running across the square like a craven child? Do you want to panic everyone?"

"I—"

"Calm down and think. You know we have planned for this."

Anuriel put her hand on her head as if to force order into her brain. "I am sorry, Lady Maven."

"Clearly it is our duty to escort Laila to safety," Maven said. Her mind raced. Being a jarl could be quite profitable if done properly. Laila could never do things properly. It was a sad world she lived in, that if you wanted things done right you had to do them yourself. If something unfortunate happened to the jarl during her flight from the city, well, accidents did happen in these troubled times. Frequently. Then there were Laila's heirs to consider. Harrald was a fool but could prove to be a troublesome fool. Clearly he should accompany Laila on her—ill-fated journey. He was no doubt cowering in the palace with his mother. As for Saerlund, he was already disgraced and unofficially disinherited. Only a scrap of paper was required to make that official. Paper was easily come by. As were official seals. So much for the heirs. As for the protectors, well, Laila's housecarl was loyal to the jarl but he spent half his time in Anuriel's bed. He could be managed. The other guards? Most of them were already in her pocket. Maul could deal with any who were not, if it came to that.

It would be a damned shame if the city burned. These dragons were truly a curse on the land. Reconstruction was so expensive! Too bad there hadn't been time to put in a real fire protection system. Rebuilding the city was already a significant drain on the treasury. A pity to add to that burden. But she'd see that it was done right. And there was probably profit to be made as a landlord once the work was done.

"Maul and the mead shipment haven't left yet," she said to Anuriel. "Send a runner and tell him we will be joining them. Then meet me at the palace. I'll make sure Laila is ready to evacuate." Maven's own essentials had been packed and ready for quite some time. She thought rapidly. "I suppose Hemming is in the meadery. He knows to find a safe place. Tell the guards to release Sibbi from prison and escort him down to the Ratway. He should be safe underground with the Thieves Guild." Sibbi had his uses but she didn't quite trust him to witness anything untoward. Sibbi couldn't control his mouth or his temper and his self-interest was too highly developed for Maven's taste. Sibbi had all Hemming's faults multiplied ten-fold and none of his family loyalty. Sibbi could never be allowed to have even the slightest hold on her. "Where is Ingun?"

"I think she is still in the dining room."

"I'll inform her we're leaving. You go ahead."

Maven was pleased to see Ingun already had her warm cloak and her bag over her shoulder.

"The dragon is coming," Ingun said.

"I am aware. Are you ready to go? We will meet the jarl in the keep."

"I'm not leaving the city, Mother."

Maven gave Ingun a cold look. "You will do as you're told."

"I won't. I'm going to help defend the city. I've been brewing poisons for days now."

"You still prattle of alchemy? Enough of this foolishness."

"It's not foolishness!" And to Maven's shocked disapproval, Ingun ran out of the house. She sighed in exasperation. The girl hadn't been the same since Hemming had taken her to Whiterun. And now there was no time to deal with her idiocy. Should she send a guard after her? Drag her back? No. She'd no doubt make a scene and that was the last thing Maven needed right now. Ingun's disobedience was annoying but not truly a problem. Curse the girl and her ridiculous obsession. Presumably she would have enough sense to get under cover when the dragon came.

Thorald stood on the city wall, facing the lake, and watched the teams of fishery workers, led by Bolli and Bersi, struggle with their large nets. The idea was interesting but he wasn't so sure about the logistics. The fishing nets were heavy and bulky. They wouldn't be able to throw them very far. Unless the dragon came right on top of them, it was hard to see how they'd be of much use.

Beside him, Mjoll scanned the skies. "I don't see it. Could it have gone?" A beat. "Could the guard have made a mistake?"

"What, the lookout saw a hawk circling and thought it was a dragon?" Thorald gave a little huff of laughter. "That would be embarrassing." He felt strange in his new armor. It was so light, he felt almost naked. Everyone who saw him came up to touch it.

"A good drill, if nothing else," Mjoll said.

"I'm not sure the city will take kindly to too many false alarms."

Esbern puffed up the stairs to join them. "Where is it?" he asked. In the sunlight, his 'elven' ears didn't look quite real. Seeing the direction of Thorald's gaze, he pulled up his hood. Then he stepped closer and touched Thorald's pauldron. "That girl does good work," he said. "How'd she get it done so quickly?"

"She hasn't slept since you gave her that sketch," Thorald said.

"Truly? Talos bless the girl."

A cry came up from the guards on the south wall. All heads swiveled.

"There it is," Mjoll said. Esbern squinted.

"Eyes aren't what they used to be. Where is it?"

Mjoll pointed. "There."

"It's white," Thorald said. "The dragon at Helgen was black."

"That was Alduin," Esbern said. "He alone is black."

"The ones at Whiterun and Kynesgrove were bronze. But this one is white. Does that mean anything?"

"Oh, yes," Esbern said. "Of course it does. Did they teach you nothing of dragons at that monastery of yours? The red and bronze dragons breathe fire, as you no doubt have learned. The white ones breathe ice and frost."

"Then we're in luck," Mjoll said. "Because we've just found out that the town's fire protection system is a fraud."

"I sent the staff to their homes," Anuriel said, when Maven met them in the huge palace kitchen. Maven thought the staff would probably have been safer here, behind stone walls but she was well aware that Laila wouldn't want her people seeing her flee the palace. And she didn't want the cooks and whatnot seeing the secret entrance to the escape tunnel. Maven eyed her party. Unmid Snow-Shod, Laila's housecarl, was a decent warrior and Harrald, well, Harrald had a big sword. Maybe he'd manage not to hurt anyone. Anuriel was likely to be useless in a fight.

"We shouldn't leave Saerlund," Laila said. From the looks of the others, this had been said already. Repeatedly.

"Let that traitor go to Oblivion," Harrald said.

"I couldn't find him, jarl," Anuriel said. Mendaciously, Maven was sure.

"He's hiding somewhere, the coward," Harrald said. Maven suppressed a snort.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Maven said. "My children are staying in the city as well."

"Then shouldn't we stay, too?" Laila asked. Maven raised one eyebrow. Was this bravery? She rather thought not. Laila knows I'll insist she leave.

"This is just a precaution," she said. "We cannot leave the town without leadership, should the worst happen."

"No," Laila said. "We couldn't allow that to happen. But there was Helgen—"

"We are better prepared. We have the Dragonborn here, after all."

"Wasn't the Dragonborn at Helgen? When it burned to the ground with just about everyone in it?" Anuriel asked. Maven shot her a glare.

"Let's get this door open, shall we?" Maven said.

The door was hidden around a short corridor which ended in a tiny locked closet. The staff had been told the key was lost but in fact, all the jarl's family had a copy. The actual door was hidden behind a false wall that opened from a hidden latch near the floor. Expecting a struggle, Maven was surprised how smoothly and quietly the false wall opened. She and Anuriel lit their lanterns.

"I wonder how long it's been since anyone has been down here?" Laila said, in a dreamy voice that made Maven's hand itch to slap her. There were footsteps in the dust, Maven noted with a frown.

"Quite recently, I'd say."

"Really?" Laila looked at Harrald. "You haven't been coming down here, son?"

"Certainly not," he huffed.

Maven gave him a stare. Was he lying? Had he perhaps been bringing girls down here, into the jarl's private bolthole? Fool! She was increasingly convinced that Harrald was a problem that must be dealt with, and sooner better than later. Once they caught up with Maul and her men outside the city. Well. Some decisions would be made. She'd made arrangements with the Dark Brotherhood for later. But maybe later should come sooner. Out on the road somewhere. And if Maul handled the details, she wouldn't have to pay the assassins. That would be a blessing.

The tunnel started out narrow but soon opened up into a natural cavern, which had been leveled here and widened there to form a meandering path out.

"There sure are a lot of spider webs," Laila said nervously.

"Spiders keep down the skeevers," Maven said.

"Skeevers? Down here?"

Maven suppressed her impatience. Was there anything that woman didn't fear?

"They won't harm you," she said. Then she remembered Hemming and Ingun's experiences with the skeevers at Honningbrew Meadery. That wouldn't happen here, of course. She frowned. There were a lot of webs.

A/N: Just a few more chapters and this story will end. Thanks for reading! I love reviews!