AN: This chapter has a great deal of violence and graphic bloodshed, please be warned.
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The morning light filtered through a nearby window, which was quite dirty. Despite the grime that tinted the window, the warm sunlight painted a trail of golden light along the floor. The two lovers on the bed slowly woke up to this warmth and light, for they were in no rush. The elf spoke softly as he stared up at the ceiling, "I think we should go somewhere else for a while, somewhere nice. I don't want to go straight back to Markarth yet." Argis could hear the implication behind the words. Ardanthis did not want to go back to being a thane quite yet. Ard hesitated a moment, gnawing slightly on his lower lip, "But with the war and the dragons, finding such a place may be difficult."
He felt Argis shrug his broad shoulders, and then heard the Nord's deep voice say, "Skyrim is a big place. If you wanted something more rural and quiet there are many, many small towns scattered around the land. Though we can handle most anything, there are few places safe enough for such an excursion. Perhaps we should simply visit another hold, like Dawnstar or Whiterun. I hear that there is a great tree in Whiterun which is beautiful."
"Not Whiterun, no. I've heard that, uh, the city is-" stammered out the wizard, but his explanation was cut short by someone banging on the door.
The banging continued a moment longer before a male voice called out, "Please open the door, my lord! I have a message for you."
Argis sighed and rose, still nude, off the bed. He turned back to the wizard as the banging recommenced and said in a low voice, "I'll see what he wants." Sighing, he pulled a folded blanket off of the nearby, small table and draped it around his waist.
The warrior suddenly pulled open the door and loomed over a scrawny young man, whose hand was still positioned to knock. Gawking up at the shirtless, scarred warrior Nord, the courier stammered out, "I-I have a message for-for the dragonborn."
"Then you can give it to me," said Argis in his coldest housecarl's voice. He was not pleased at being roused from bed for business.
Visibly steeling himself, the young man stated in a wavering voice, "I was told this message was for the dragonborn only and not for anyone else. The innkeeper told me that he had lodgings in this room and I must see him."
Argis opened his mouth to give an angry retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Ardanthis gently urged him back. The wizard had evidently taken advantage of Argis' exchange with the courier and had quickly thrown on his robe, making him appropriately clothed for conversation. Stepping forward, in between the two men, Ard extended his hand for the folded letter that the other man was holding. He gave a soft smile and said, "I am the dragonborn you seek. I appreciate you protecting the privacy of the letter as you were entrusted with it. Now then, give me my letter."
The courier's eyes widened in shock, "You're the dragonborn? But- but you're a Thalmor!"
Ard dropped all pretentions of politeness and his voice took on an acidic edge as he said, "I am not a Thalmor. I am a High Elf, yes, but no Thalmor. I hope you can tell us apart – or are you one of those too stupid to see the difference? You will give me my letter now unless you wish to tell whoever sent you why the letter was not delivered as agreed upon."
The courier was still stammering in shock and he thoughtlessly asked out loud to himself, "But-but the Thalmor killed so many Nords and Imperials! Why would the General trust one-?"
Upon hearing "General" Ardanthis lunged forward and slammed the courier against the wall. His hand snaked up and gripped the man's skinny throat and he hissed into his face, "General Tullius trusts me because I've killed more dragons than you've ever seen. I am trusted because, unlike you, the General understands my value to preserving Skyrim against the Thalmor's influence. He understands how I will be able to help him and everyone avoiding the leash of the Dominion."
Argis bent over and picked up the letter the courier had been holding. It had fluttered to the floor when Ardanthis had bodily forced the skinny man back. He looked up at the wizard who still gripped the courier's throat and said softly, "I think he's learned his lesson, love. He's going to turn blue soon if you keep gripping his throat like that." Despite his words, Argis admired the wizard in that moment. He was lithe, lethal, and concentrated on the person in front of him. It reminded the Nord of a very well-honed knife and he knew that the wizard could easily ignite his hand and kill the terrified looking courier.
The Altmer smoothly eased back from the courier who didn't even look at the note Argis held as he ran out of the inn. Taking in a single deep breath, the wizard blew it out and looked towards where the courier had fled. He muttered softly, "I wish I hadn't done that. Now I've just confirmed everything he ever thought about me." He turned to the warrior who gave him the letter before withdrawing into the room and began to dress. Quickly following him into the room, the wizard closed the door and broke the seal on the letter. His eyes widened in shock as he read it over twice.
Argis had quickly washed himself before donning his pants and shirt. He paused in his routine to look curiously at the wizard. "What's wrong?" he asked with concern.
Handing him the letter without a word, Ardanthis pulled off his robe and quickly began to dress in his armour. Argis looked down at the letter nervously, disliking the silence and gravity that had descended over their room. His understood the wizard's trepidation as he read, "Dragonborn, it is urgent that you head to Windhelm. We are in position to begin its siege and we wait mostly on your presence. I have sent couriers to every major city within each hold in the hopes that one of them will find you. Please hurry." The letter was signed by General Tullius himself.
Argis refolded the letter and immediately headed for his armour, sighing softly at the lost time they could have spent together.
Ardanthis was already slipping his cuirass and leather pants on and Argis hurried to catch up to his thane. An idea suddenly struck the housecarl and he asked, "Did you really mean what you said to the courier? About killing dragons."
The wizard nodded absent mindedly, "I'm surprised that Markarth and the surrounding territories haven't seen more of them, but yes, I have slain my share."
Argis hadn't even seen a dragon and was quietly awed by the fact that his husband had actually killed the mythical creatures. He knew that they had re-emerged, but he had never seen any yet.
Giving a small shrug as he finished lacing up his boots, the wizard added, "Once you get used to their patterns they aren't that terrifying. Most of them probably expect us mortals to cower before them like in ages past, if you believe the history books that is." Argis nodded dumbly at the nonchalance shown to dragon slaying. With a gusty sigh and a rueful grin, the wizard quickly added, "But I'm still terrified every time I see one. They truly are beautiful but so, so deadly."
They quickly finished arming themselves since they were long familiar with the quirks of their individual armour sets. Ardanthis looked back at the soiled bed, wincing slightly, he muttered, "Someone's going to have to clean that up." He hurried back over to the night table and left a few septims on the night table for whatever person had to change the bedding.
They hurried down the stairs and out of the bar after informing the innkeeper that they did not intend to stay for another night. Breaking into the sunlit streets the pair headed quickly for the gates. The circular market in the center of the city was already bustling with loud people, but they sped past the vendors to the stables that lay outside the gates.
Quickly looking around the quiet stables, they saw no available wagons. Ardanthis swore softly and angrily as he desperately searched for someone who could take him and his housecarl to Windhelm. He spied a wagon with no driver or horse and made his way to a nearby stable hand who was mucking out a stall.
He hailed the boy and asked, "Does that wagon over there have a team and driver?"
Eyeing him with a great deal of suspicion, the boy nodded and said, "They'll be ready to work soon. Why?"
Grinning in relief the elf replied, "I need to get to Windhelm quickly. Can you show me where the driver is?"
"Well, he's not here right now but – oh! There he is!" exclaimed the youth and pointed a finger at a dark haired man who was making his way down to the stables. Rushing out, the boy shouted, "Brem! There're some people to see you here!"
The driver, Brem, looked worriedly at the Altmer and said, "I haven't done anything."
Too hopeful to be annoyed at the Nord's assumption, Ard replied, "I'm not with the Thalmor. I need to get to Windhelm quickly and I'll pay twice your usual rate if you'll take me before noon."
Brem's eyes lit up with greed and he nodded eagerly. Bellowing a few quick instructions to the young stable hand, his horses were quickly set in their traces and the two men boarded the cart. With a crack of his reins, the driver had the team rumbling and clattering down the road to Windhelm.
Ardanthis pitied anything that tried to stop them from making their way to the Stormcloak capitol as he was prepared to brook no interference. He glanced at Argis, noticing how the housecarl's gaze stayed out over the horizon and not within the cart. Nudging his gently with his elbow, Ard asked, "How...how are you feeling about this? I know you told me that Ulfric did a lot for you, but this siege will only end with Ulfric dead or captured for execution."
Stirring slightly at the contact the Nord smiled at his husband briefly before giving a frustrated sigh. He returned his gaze to the landscape rolling by and said softly, "I don't want to do it. The last thing I want to do is kill him. Do you know how I still remember him? I remember him as a commander standing against the Forsworn and fighting to free Markarth from their grip. I don't see him as the rebel tyrant or the usurper or any of the other names applied to him. I still see him as that person from so long ago and not whatever he is now. That's why I don't want to be here, because our success means destroying that part of me from so long ago."
Ardanthis nodded slowly as the cart continued to make its way along the road. He hesitantly asked, "But you see how necessary his death is though, don't you? Without him we can restore order and safety to Skyrim. The Thalmor will be unable to threaten either the Imperials or the Nords when they are united."
His gaze still lingering on the trees and hills rolling by, the housecarl replied, "I know that. One part me knows that the Thalmor can only be stopped this way, but... but it's still hard to kill someone you looked up to most of your life."
With a sympathetic squeeze to the Nord's hand, Ard let the conversation end and the miles roll by in silence. The wizard understood how torn Argis must be and appreciated his loyalty all the more for it.
The journey to Windhelm was not a long one, but the anticipation of the fight gnawed at both of the cart's passengers. Ulfric would be at his most dangerous as he was backed into a corner with his most loyal supporters. The siege would not be a long, drawn out affair, but a quick attempt to break the city. This was going to be a short and brutal battle in the hopes that the city would be broken quickly by it. After all, the Imperials wanted to avoid damaging the value of the city as much as possible. There was little value in capturing a pile of rubble.
Argis glanced at the setting sun, but was confused by the way that the orange glow seemed to spread farther to the north than it should. Looking around he realized how close to the city they were and then he realized why the sunset confused him. To the north he wasn't seeing the sun's light but the lurid glow of flames. It appeared that the siege was already underway. A south-bound gust of wind brought the scent of smoke to everyone in the cart.
The horses snorted nervously and Brem nervously asked, "What's going on at Windhelm?"
"It's under attack by Imperial forces," said the wizard simply.
Arrayed around the shores of the water, which curved in front of Windhelm, was a large army. It seemed that General Tullius had brought everything he had against the city in a final gamble. Brem stopped the cart and looked back at the two passengers, urgently saying, "I'm not going further than this. I'm not riding into a siege, so give me my pay now."
Being close enough to the attacker's camp, Ard didn't quibble with the man's demand. He knew that he hadn't been forthcoming with the driver, who might not have taken the job had he known he was headed into a conflict. Sharply turning the cart around after receiving his pay, Brem raced away from the burning city as his passengers raced towards it.
They were stopped at the perimeter by a man dressed in Imperial armour. Looking them over suspiciously, he barked, "Halt! Who are you and what are you doing here? Can't you see the city is under siege?"
Drawing himself up, the Altmer replied, "I am the dragonborn and I am here to help you end the reign of Ulfric Stormcloak. I have been invited here by General Tullius himself." He handed the guard the letter the courier had given him. Quickly reading it over, the watchman nodded hesitantly and beckoned them into the camp. As they approached the general's tent, another volley of flaming projectiles was lobbed over the walls of the city. Smoke from the besieged city snaked throughout the camp.
Hunched over a city map, Legate Rikke stood beside General Tullius, who was giving instructions to a constant flow of messenger who immediately ran out of the tent to deliver the messages they had been given. Quietly entering the tent, Argis and Ardanthis stood to the side. As the latest messenger left, Tullius looked up and saw the two men. "You're here earlier than expected. This is good, we can press our advantage now before they have more time to fortify their defences," said the General in an appraising voice.
Beckoning them to follow him, he quickly snagged a passing messenger and muttered something to him before sending him off. He looked back at the two behind him and asked, "I'm going to need you both able to fight tonight. I know you've had a long journey to get here, but you'll need to make do." He stopped off at another tent and spoke in a low voice to the man there, and the soldier hustled to a chest in the back of the tent and returned with two small bottles filled with a green fluid. "I trust you know what these are, so drink up. We need you alert and aware for when we take the city," stated the general in a tone that would not accept refusal. Muttering more to himself than any other person, Tullius said, "We're lucky. The Argonians and Dunmer don't seem to be willing to fight for Ulfric, not that that's surprising, but it makes things easier."
Popping the corks that topped the bottles, the two guzzled down the magical potions and immediately felt invigorated. The renewing force of the potion swept away the exhaustion that had gradually settled on the new arrivals and they quickly caught up with the general. Looking around, they realized that the whole camp was moving around them. People ran in every direction or assembled in a seemingly random madness.
Standing at the start of the bridge, the general looked at the massive gates of the city. He cast a glance back at the army behind him, which had largely assembled into formation, and nodded in approval. The creak and whump of the catapults firing heralded another barrage, but not all of the shots were directed at the city's interior. Four large boulders slammed into the massive gates, splintering them. Raising his hand, the general dropped it sharply and the army behind him poured forward around him.
Argis and his thane settled close to the general as the first wave of assaulters rushed passed them. Drawing his own sword, the general followed his troops at a light jog.
Ard was surprised that such an older and well-respected man would head into combat, but understood the importance of the General's presence. Following after the leader of the Imperial forces in Skyrim, the pair could hear the next wave of attackers following behind them.
Bursting into the burning city, Argis was struck by the magnitude of the battle. The entire district was a mass of fighting soldiers and clanging metal. Shouting to be heard above the noise, Tullius said, "We have to reach the Palace quickly and end this now. The Stormcloaks will concede once their leader is dead."
Normally, they would have run straight for the palace, but the way was choked with warriors and debris. The combatants themselves would not have been an impediment usually, but the boulders had knocked chunks of buildings into the path, which effectively blocked the route.
Swearing loudly, Tullius lead a small squad down a side path. Drawing his sword, he impaled a surprised Stormcloak who rounded the corner in an effort to join the battle. Stepping over the spreading pool of blood, the General scowled as four more soldiers rounded the bend. The Stormcloaks began to charge, but we stunned by a dazzling fireball which exploded amidst them. It was more light than heat and inflicted minimal damage, but it was enough to spoil their charge. Panicking slightly as they tried to extinguish burning clothes, the rebels were quickly overwhelmed and slaughtered.
Racing forward, the group entered into an area of relative calm. The grand, old houses that occupied this district were largely unaffected by the chaos around them. Their iron grates would be no impediment to an invading army, but they were closed as if they mattered. Ardanthis looked at General Tullius with a new appreciation. The man was shrewd enough to avoid attacking the nobles he would depend on to keep order later.
They quickly swerved off away those houses down another narrow alley. As they rounded the corner, one of the soldiers screamed and collapsed as three arrows punched through his leather armour. They rapidly retreated around the corner to avoid sharing the soldier's fate. Peering around the corner cautiously, the general quickly pulled back and hissed, "Three archers behind a barricade. Argis, I need-"
"No," quickly interjected the wizard, recalling how Argis' shield had failed to protect him before. He continued, "I will step out, let my ward absorb the bolts, Shout at them, and then everyone else will charge them before they can recover."
Tullius clearly did not want to risk his prized asset, but he nodded reluctantly. Draw a deep breath, the wizard stepped out from around the corner, and the air rippled before him as an arcane barrier snapped into existence. Arrows slammed into the magical barrier and bounced off harmlessly. Sucking in a deep breath, the wizard boomed, "FUS RO DAH!" and a kinetic wave blew the archers back. Letting his ward drop, the wizard drew his swords and joined the rush of bodies hacking at the barrier.
The wooden barricade was clearly put together at the last moment and the shoddy workmanship showed in how it fell to pieces with a few blows. Dazed Stormcloaks attempted to rise to their feet but with a few quick sword swipes they fell back to the ground, their blood drenching the earth. With a regretful glance back at the fallen soldier, the group pressed onward.
The main army provided a strong distraction and almost all of the soldiers from both sides were diverted to there. Confidently leading the group down the streets and alleyways of the city, the general encountered no other resistance along the way. In a short while, they were in front of the palace's cold front. The great brazier that sat before the palace still burned, but its light was lost in the greater wash of the flame from the city. Walking calmly but quickly up to the door to the palace, Tullius pushed it open.
The palace's hall reflected a much more simple style from centuries past. It was well-lit, but cold. The large banquet table, bare of food and place settings, dominated the room but beyond that the throne loomed over the table. Upon that imposing seat the Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak himself, sat. Next to him, standing in a combat ready posture with his warhammer drawn, was Galmar Stonefist.
"Secure the doors and guard them. Do not let anyone else in," commanded the general and his troops scurried to obey. The legate, general, dragonborn, and housecarl slowly approached the throne where Ulfric reclined casually.
Argis flicked his gaze between Tullius and Ulfric. Tullius seemed to be all fire and energy now that the quarry he had been chasing for so long lay before him. Ulfric, by contrast, was cold and calm. He sat dispassionately on his throne and made his own inspection of the four invaders who approached him. Argis wondered if the Jarl recognized him from before and winced at the possibility. To him, it felt like Ulfric's gaze lingered on him longer than the others, but it could have just been his imagination.
The Jarl's sharp features barely twitched as he looked at the four people assembled before him. His soft, deep voice rang out, "So you've finally made to me. I take it you are here for my head."
Tullius stepped forward and Galmar shuffled forward in response. The general eyed the warrior and stopped his advance before turning back to Ulfric and calling out, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, I am here to arrest you for treason against the Empire. You can choose to come peacefully to an execution or be killed now."
A faint smile crossed the features of the Jarl before they settled back into their controlled expression, with the words, "You don't not leave me much of a choice then, do you?"
"Your city burns around you. Spare the lives of your men and the citizens who are desperately trying to put out fires and hide from soldiers – give yourself up!" cried Tullius.
The Jarl rose from his throne and scowled down at the general, "I will never give myself up. I am a true son of Skyrim, and I am no coward. I fight for the hope that Skyrim can become great like it once was. I will not let it become a province of the Imperials, or a slave of the Altmer," he glanced at Ardanthis with those last words before he continued, "Skyrim deserves to be free of the yoke of oppressors, especially when the oppressors themselves cower before the elves. The Nord people will never truly be cowed by the Empire or the Dominion."
Shaking his head Tullius responded with, "These goals are yours alone and you force them on the people you lord over. Many Nords were happy to be a part of the Empire and to fight with the Imperials against the Dominion-"
"You abandoned us when your city was threatened," interrupted the Jarl. His gaze was so cold that it gave the wizard the image of a tundra wind blowing.
The general angrily countered, "I am not here to debate history with you. Do you surrender?"
The Jarl bellowed, "NEVER!" before unleashing a Shout directly at the General. The blast of sound threw the general and the legate back but Ardanthis, who was also caught in the blast, merely staggered. Ulfric gave him an appraising glance, "Interesting, dragonborn."
Ardanthis and Argis drew their swords and glanced at the incapacitated Imperial army officers, who only stirred without showing signs of recovering soon. The thane of Markarth slowly approached the Jarl of Windhelm in a combative posture, and Argis moved to challenge the other housecarl. Ulfric drew his own sword and stepped off the dais that supported his throne, softly saying, "Know dragonborn, that whoever falls this day will be forever remembered in song."
Ardanthis didn't verbally reply to Ulfric's words, but replied with a scissoring strike aimed at the Jarl's neck. Ducking back, Ulfric avoided the attack before responding with a jab of his own.
The bear fur wearing housecarl rushed Argis with a roar and swung his hammer in a large arc. Argis leapt back, feel the movement of the air displaced by the moving hammer. He swore under his breath as he realized that his shield would be next to useless against the kind of force behind that hammer. At the best, it would crumple like paper and deflect the attack, but more than likely his arm would also break under the assault.
Sitting lightly on the balls of his feet, he watched Galmar's cautious approach. The other housecarl wasn't stupid, and knew that he lacked defensive power and so measured his swings carefully. Argis knew that his defence was useless against the overwhelming force of the other's hammer, and Galmar knew that his swings left him vulnerable. Unlike the loudly and vicious clanging coming from the other two fighters, the housecarls' fight was much quieter.
Argis' sword flicked out at Galmars' left hand and the other warrior shifting slightly and used the haft to parry the strike. He quickly turned the hammer and used the head to jab at Argis, who positioned his sword to strike at Galmar's wrist. The bearskin wearing warrior pulled his weapon back with a fierce grunt.
This battle of little jabs and cautious attacks continued and each housecarl was growing more desperate to land a deciding blow. The loud clanging and ragged shouts of the other two swordsmen was a clarion call to both Argis and Galmar that help was need now.
Gradually, the two housecarls began to risk more in their careful fight and landed strikes on each other. Argis limped slightly, his left leg having taken a glancing shot from Glamar's hammer. The Stormcloak housecarl had paid for that strike though, and he constantly readjusted his grip on his hammer as blood ran from a gash on his arm to the haft of the weapon, slicking it with crimson. The clanging from the elf and Jarl had slowed somewhat and their heavy breathing could be heard by their housecarls.
Argis and Galmar were still engaged in their watchful battle when a sudden scream from the other pair of fighters distracted them for a moment. Looking over they saw Ulfric's overhand chop caught on the elf's right sword while his left sword bit into the Jarl's thigh to the bone. With a sucking noise, the wizard pulled his sword out and whirled away.
"NO!" screamed Galmar and he began to race towards the distracted thane who was staring down at the bleeding Jarl. Argis capitalized on Galmar's distraction and quickly lashed out with his sword out. It slid through the bear fur armour and the other housecarl collapsed to the floor with a wet scream. Galmar's gaze only lingered on Ulfric and a look of despair crossed his features. Argis sympathized with the fallen warrior for he knew the exact feeling of complete failure that must be wracking Galmar.
A groan from the legate drew Argis' attention to the fallen Imperial forces officers. Rushing over to their prone bodies, the blonde housecarl gently shook the legate and general to wakefulness. Rising to his feet, the general staggered over to the kneeling and heavily bleeding Jarl. He snarled out, "Ulfric Stormcloak, your reign has ended." He drew his sword and pulled it back for the killing blow.
"Wait," said Ulfric in a voice tight with pain and weak with blood loss, "let the dragonborn be the one to do it. It will make for a better song."
Looking to the Altmer, the general nodded, "You were once a great man, Ulfric. I'll honour your last request. Whether the dragonborn does or doesn't is up to him though."
The Jarl tried to rise, but failed to. On his knees before a High Elf he glared up one final time as his executioner. "It's a cruel twist of fate. We were both slated to be executed in Helgen, but it had appeared that we had both escaped that fate. Truly, only you managed to avoid it while I merely delayed it." He looked at Tullius, "At the least I have a more honourable executioner than what Helgen would have given me." Looking direction at Argis, Ulfric smiled slightly and said, "Argis the Bulwark, I did not expect to have you help to bring me down. You once knew what it meant to be a Nord, remember it some day." He looked down and stilled for a moment. "Finish it," he said, a trace of his usual composure re-entering his voice as he looked up at the Altmer and met his gaze.
Looking down at the kneeling Jarl, the wizard crossed his swords and placed the ends on either side of his opponent's neck and softly said, "You were and honourable foe, and you died for what you thought was right. There is no better cause to die for."
Ulfric looked completely calm as the elf swept his swords apart, neatly beheading the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. Argis was captured by the surreal feeling that overcame him as he watched the other man's head separate from his shoulders. He absently watched the crimson droplets fly through the air and seemingly in slow motion. As Ulfric's head hit the ground, he snapped his attention back to the Jarl's neck which pulsed copious amounts of blood before the body fell on its side with a soft thud. Between Galmar and Ulfric, the throne room seemed to be washed with blood.
Galmar gave a few despairing gurgles which caused pink froth to collect around his mouth before he too expired. Argis looked down at the fallen housecarl, knowing that the man had passed in the depths of despair. His Jarl had died before him and he had failed to save Ulfric.
"It's over at last," said Tullius in an exhausted voice. One of the soldiers who had been barring the door suddenly screamed as a span of steel emerged from his body and a side door burst open as Stormcloak soldiers poured through with powerful shouts. Argis raised his sword and shield while Ardanthis dropped his bloody swords as his hands burst into flame. The men piled in, but immediately stopped as they caught sight of the Jarl's decapitated form.
An unknown soldier cried out with despair, "Ulfric Stormcloak has fallen!" The men who had charged in so boldly before now wavered in their courage. They began to back out as the news of their leader's demise spread back through the others behind them. Like a tide, they retreated out of the room.
The general marched to the doors to the palace and threw aside the bar that had been blocking them. Pushing open the doors, he was met by a multitude of Imperial soldiers who looked up at the sudden appearance of their leader. "Ulfric Stormcloak has fallen to the blades of the dragonborn today! For the Empire!" he roared in a triumphant voice. The mass of soldiers before him cheered wildly and many ran off to spread the news to their compatriots. He knew that most of the Stormcloak soldiers would vanish when they found out their cause was lost.
Ardanthis was still in the throne room. He had cleaned his swords on a cloth he carried with him, unwilling to clean his weapons on his opponents' clothes. He could not bring himself to treat their bodies so disdainfully. The general hailed him and gripped the elf's arm with a wide grin and the words, "Don't leave the city just yet, my friend. I suspect that we'll need you in peace as much as in war." The elf nodded numbly as he turned to Argis who limped towards him.
"Let-let me heal it, Argis," said the elf, visibly drained by the ordeal. He placed a golden glowing hand on Argis' wounded leg before turning his attention to the cuts he had suffered at the hands of the Jarl.
Too overwhelmed by Ulfric's last words to him, Argis stood quiescently and let the Altmer provide healing. Smiling shakily at the Nord, Ardanthis said, "Let's see to the survivors. I'm sure they could use another healer out there."