24 Heartfire 4E201, Lakeview Manor
"Steady, steady . . . and haul away!"
Twenty men hauled on a pair of ropes. Ivar stood among them, the strongest of them, stripped to the waist even in the cool air, muscles straining under his skin. A wooden framework rose high into the air, to settle into the waiting hands of a team at the top of an almost-finished tower.
Lydia stood with arms folded, watching everything with bright eyes, saying nothing until the framework rested in place and the men could let go of their ropes. Then she called out: "An enchanter's tower, my thane?"
Ivar glanced her way as he went to pick up a bucket of clean water, and then poured it out over his head and shoulders. Spluttering, he grinned at her through his beard. "Aye. I know something of the art, and I've been talking to Farengar Secret-Fire the last few times I've been in Whiterun. I have a few master-works in mind, something that will require rune-kenning and enchantment as well as good solid smith-work."
"Armor? A shield? Weapons?"
"All of those," said the smith. "You remember all the scales and dragon-bone we've recovered, from the worms we've slain?"
Lydia's eyes went wide with surprise. "You have the art of working with such materials?"
"Not yet, but I don't plan to remain in ignorance forever. To stand against Alduin, I will need the best."
"That will be . . . remarkable to see."
"Come inside," her thane directed.
Inside, the hall seemed nearly complete, a roof overhead, the walls finished and plastered, furniture in place. Dawnbreaker took pride of place, sitting in brackets over the fireplace, shedding warm golden light across half the room. Cooking smells emerged from the kitchen, as the workers' wives prepared a midday meal for their men.
Ivar pulled a wolf-skin cloak over his shoulders, and sat down at the head of the great trestle table, gesturing to Lydia to sit close by. At the sound, Rayya emerged from the armory and found a place for herself about two-thirds of the way down the table.
"I have an offer for you, one which I hope you will accept," said Ivar.
"What is it?" asked Lydia.
"Reeve of Scarstone and Morgate."
Lydia frowned, thinking through the implications. "My thane, I am sworn to carry your burdens. It's my place to fight at your side."
"That's true. You'll get your chance soon enough. I suspect I'll be going to war before much longer, and when I go, I want my lands ready to provide men for the weapon-take. That means a steady hand and a sharp mind to put things in order, recruit and train the men, be ready to command them when the time comes. I don't doubt the strength of your sword-arm and your bow, but right now what I need is the strength of your reason."
"Do I understand that you plan to take a hand in the civil war?" asked Lydia carefully.
"In a sense. It's almost as important as dealing with the dragons. The fighting needs to stop, and Skyrim needs to be unified under one banner."
"Whose banner, my thane?"
The smith only smiled, an expression full of secrets. "Not Jarl Ulfric's, if that's what you're worried about. Not that of the White Lady of Solitude, either. Put either of them in command and the north remains torn asunder for years to come. We Nords can't afford that. Tamriel can't afford that."
Lydia frowned. "You know of a third way?"
"Perhaps." Ivar changed the subject. "In any case, I'm leaving for Solitude tomorrow, and I may be away for some time. Weeks at least, possibly longer. General Tullius and I have a few things to discuss. He will likely think I'm volunteering to join the Legion as a common soldier, and I suppose that's all right for the time being. He will learn better before long."
Lydia's frown grew deeper. "My thane, I'm not used to this kind of talk from you. What ambitions have you conceived?"
"Nothing to dishonor any of us. If I say no more for the moment, it's because I expect you would doubt my sanity. I'll speak more openly once I'm more certain of the path myself."
"I have my doubts already." She shrugged her shoulders. "No matter. Where you lead, I follow. I've never had cause to regret making that oath."
"Good. Then you'll accept?"
Slowly, she extended a hand for him to grip.
"Good! You can start right away. Reeve's quarters are here in the manor house, just off the main hall. I think you'll find them to your liking. I took the liberty of having your father send a few of your favorite things."
Lydia gave him a sharp glance. "You've already spoken to Father about this?"
"He was nine-chances-in-ten certain you would accept. I've gambled more on worse odds than that."
She folded her arms in exasperation. "You are very like him," she accused. "Always convinced you know better than I what's good for me."
Ivar smiled again. "Are we wrong?"
"No, I suppose not. I do sometimes wish for the chance to make my own decisions."
The smile suddenly faded, leaving behind a grim expression. "Lydia, you don't know your good fortune. You are a free woman, you always have been, with no destiny but what you build for yourself. I envy you that, and I won't ever stand in your way. Should you wish to leave my service, I will send you with gold aplenty and the best word I can."
"No." She shook her head decisively. "Please ignore my complaints, my thane. They're not worthy of me, or of you. Of course I will serve you, as well as I am able. Only remember that I am as capable of hard hand-strokes as I am of good management, and I have no desire ever to set aside my blade."
Ivar extended his hand for her to grip once more. "I never doubted it."