-Chapter III- The First Battle

-Whiterun, Skyrim

-16 First Seed

-6:30 A.M.

-Nicholas

Oh. I. Am. Screwed. I thought looking at the expressions on everyone's faces as I stood before the course I was to run. They all looked at me in expectancy, as though I am under no circumstances supposed to fail. Practice dummies were scattered throughout the area, so that the audience would be enabled to see my agility and strength. I was given only a simple iron shortsword to work with, and it didn't have much of a reach. I nervously looked around, seeing the dozens of pairs of eyes focused on me. I stood perfectly still, paralyzed in fear, and though I already known about this event for years now, I still felt like it came out of nowhere. Like running face-first into a brick wall.

The signal of the beginning of the course was signaled simply by Max commanding "Go", and I was off. I bobbed and weaved through the numerous dummies to demonstrate my agility, then I started attacking. Without stopping, I held the sword straight from my arm to start cutting through the soft material the dummies were made from, opening large holes in their drawn faces and spilling hay everywhere, leaving a trail behind me. At one of the points of the track there were two dummies I was to kill at the same time, to do this, I jumped up into the air, and spun around, sword still held out as far as possible, and as soon as my feet touched the ground, I was moving once more.

The only scent was that of the straw that was now in piles all over the place, seeming to be raining from the sky. Don't screw up, don't screw up... this would be the worst possible time to screw up. I thought, still concentrating on the setup in front of me. After about twenty minutes of the exercise, there was only one dummy left. To finish off, and leaped high into the air and stabbed downwards to the dummy, impaling it not only with my sword, but with the added force form the jump I went straight through it. Covered in straw, sweat, and dirt, I slowly rose, looking behind me to see the remnants of the poorly made figure. All that was left was a stick stuck in the ground.

I looked to where Max and the Sages stood, and they seemed extremely satisfied with the results. The only thing I needed to do now was shout. At a pull of a rope by one of the sages, a dozen dummies shot up into the air. For about a second, time seemed to slow down, and I watched as the shower of hay slowly fell to Earth. Everyone went silent, even the birds that usually chirp were hushed. I took a deep breath...and shouted.

"Fus...roh-DAH!"

My body went numb as I watched in horror as the dummies landed, completely untouched by the words of the dragons. I fell to the ground, feeling the glares and gazes of disappointment and hatred wrap around me. I slowly looked up at Max, who did not seem surprised at all. He only nodded, turned and left, his gaze never leaving the ground. I felt useless, and all the people started murmuring. Slowly, they disbanded, one by one, and eventually they had all left.

It was only me and the Sages left. I got up, expecting a downpour of hatred and insults to surround me. And that was exactly what I got. Anger was drawn across all their faces. "If you are incapable of shouting, I do not see the reason you have wasted are time." one told me.

"Retire to your room for now, Nicholas. We know it is not your fault, but leave us to think what could have went wrong." Rood commanded, trying to muffle the touch of disappointment in his voice and replace it with confusion. I slowly turned and leave, my face still in shock.

I sat down on my bed when I returned to my room, and once more, lost myself in thought. I replayed the scene in my head again and again in my head to find my mistake, but my efforts were fruitless. I buried my face in my hands and began rubbing my temples. I closed my eyes and stared into the endless void of darkness for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, despite the early hour I slowly drifted off to sleep.

I found myself in some sort of fortress, my vision somewhat blurry. The place had large metal walls that seemed to go on for miles, surrounding large buildings spitting black smoke out of large chimneys, a layout that resembled a Concentration Camp. Beyond the walls I could see a sea of black, with numerous pipes spewing large streams of oil into the murky water.

Though the sun shone brightly through some sort of shield, the evil robotic fortress was dark... Some sort of creatures walked about as prisoners, bound by chains and walked in straight lines led by robotic pirates. I heard someone calling my name, and I woke up from the nightmare.

I had fallen on the floor of my room, when I opened my eyes I found myself on my hand, which felt like pins and needles. I drowsily looked up at Max, leaning against the wall next to my bedroom door. "You okay?" He asked with a concerned look on his face.

"You knew, didn't you?" I asked angrily.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he took a deep breath and pushed himself off the wall, standing over me. "What?"

"You know exactly what."

"...yes, I knew."

I stood up. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you let me go out there, and make a fool of myself? How long have you known? And...and..." I trail off, finding myself at a loss for words.

"I..." he started, closing his eyes and sitting on the bed. He took another deep breath before speaking again. "...For a time. You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand..." I repeated quietly to myself. "I wouldn't understand?" He nodded. "So my entire life was nothing but a lie, and I'm now a disappointment to the hundreds of thousands of people of Tamriel, and no one, especially not me, knew until today when I'm in front of all the people of Whiterun just to mess up, because I wouldn't understand?"

"Nick..." he started, looking like he was holding back tears.

"My whole life...get out." I commanded.

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead got up off the bed and left the room, leaving me alone once more. I sighed, feeling conflicted. I didn't know if I was depressed, angered, or just hurt. It wasn't the fact that I wasn't dragonborn, it was just that everything that I always my life would end up being wasn't going to come true. And I had nothing.

I slowly lied down on my bed, my mind blank and not knowing what to think. I felt conflicted, I felt like I hated Max, but at the same time I knew that I didn't. He was my only friend...what reason would he have for doing something like this? Keeping me in here in Whiterun for no purpose whatsoever, making me believe that I am something that I'm not. For fifteen years. I've been living a lie, and my whole life seemed to have just crumbled within the blink of an eye.

What else is a lie? I thought. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to fall back asleep. I lied there for a few minutes in the darkness of my room, and the complete silence. After being still and trying to relax despite...recent events...

Eventually, I slowly drifted off, everything getting fuzzy, then my eyelids getting heavier and heavier, until I finally slept, relieved of stress and able to forget about my problems. The next thing I knew, I awoke to everyone being in a frenzy, it was loud, and I was in a daze, unable to think clearly and barely even conscience.

At first I was still in bed, then I was in the hallway, looking at all the Nords passing by me equipped with numerous swords, axes, and maces of numerous sizes and origins (orcish, elven, nordic, etc.) that were most likely found elsewhere throughout Skyrim. A lot to take in without even realizing you're taking it in.

After that, I was on the floor of the mead hall, being pushed around by the plethora of warriors moving non-stop, each coming in through the stairs leading down, and out through one of the four doors leading out into Whiterun. I felt a rush of the brisk early morning air on my skin, sending chills down my spine. After that someone grabbed me and I found myself back in my room, with a single candle lighting nearly the entire room. I was looking up at Max, who was grabbing me on the shoulders.

"Stay put." he commanded, eyes widened. He was pale in the dim candlelight, he was scared. Max has never been scared.

Within a blink of an eye I was sitting back on my bed, and Max had left the room. A little more awake and alert, I got up and left the room once more. I had to prove myself, that I was not just some wannabe, though not a dovahkiin, a skilled warrior. I was going to go out there and join the fight, whatever it was, it had to have been huge.

I slowly walked through the hall that led from my room, and looked at the eerily empty and quiet halls. The fact that the halls had been bustling with activity just moments before and now are so quiet that the only sound is the silence itself. My footsteps echoed through the halls, and I found myself eventually tiptoeing the on going building to not break the silence. I slowly started to concoct an idea on how to do this. First I was going to need a weapon.

Any weapon, really. But preferably the sort of weapon I was used too, the very weapon I was trained with and for, a sword. Luckily, I just happen to know where the weapons were kept. As I continued to slowly make my way through the hall, I was on the watch for anyone that strayed from the group and came back for any reason. No one yet.

I stopped in front of one of the doors closer to the stairs leading back up to the mead hall, and slowly grabbed and turned the wooden handle. I cringed when I heard the creaking sound that came from the opening door and stopped what I was doing, then almost had a panic attack thinking that someone may have heard it as it reverberated through the empty building.

I tried once more at opening the door as stealthily as possible, moving it so slowly that it barely seemed to be moving, any faster and the loud creaking would begin again. As soon as I was able to fit through the crack of the door, I slid past it and slowly shut the door behind me so no one could sneak up on me from behind. I sighed heavily as soon as it was ajar, then turned towards the numerous blades hanging on the walls and weapon racks.

In front of me were an assortment of different weapons used throughout the ages of different styles and sizes, all gathered for defense and training exercises. The room was once a bunk room with beds lining the walls and small chests and drawers for personal belongings when Jorrvaskr was owned by the Companions and led by Kodlak Whitemane, that is, before his death.

I slowly gazed at the plethora of blades in awe, amazed just imagining the damage they could cause. I paced back and forth through the long room deciding which I should pick. Something simple and subtle, as to not attract any attention to myself, or, not yet at least.

I slowly reached my hand out for a long silver longsword in one of the numerous weapon racks. I pulled it out, feeling the cold steel handle beneath my stiff fingers. I lifted it with almost no trouble, but then decided it was almost too heavy. After all, a sword too big in the battlefield could be a disadvantage, if it were too heavy in the heat of battle with all your stamina drained, what good would a weapon be if you couldn't use it? I quietly placed the sharpened metal back in its place.

This could be a little more challenging than I expected... I thought. There was quite an assortment of axes, and maces seemed to be the majority of the weaponry, dozens of bows hanging on the wall with a quiver of arrows to match, but I limited myself to the collection of swords. One after another, I tried all different kinds, (even the more exotic ones) and they seemed wrong. Most warriors had their tools of destruction made custom to their strength and balance.

Finally I found a sword that worked well enough. I felt the light blade in my hand, deciding whether or not I could use it. It seemed easy enough to carry, looked pretty strong. I lightly tapped the edge of the iron to check its sharpness, and it wasn't too bad. The balance was off a little, but other than that it was good enough.

I studied the design of the blade for a few seconds, then realized that it was the same blade from the test this morning. I raised over my head about ready to throw it at the wall, then I slowly lowered the sword and sighed. I found its sheath, and searched for a sword belt that would fit me. I found one within seconds.

I turned around and started to make my way for the door, but it started to open. A heard a familiar voice come from the other side. "What's this doing open...?" I unsheathed my sword so that I could move easier, and threw my weight to the side, rolling under a long table that was covered in a various assortment of knives and daggers.

Rood came from the other side of the door as it opened with a loud creak, peeked his head into the room, and looked around. My heart was pounding as he shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind him. I waited a few everlasting seconds before I left my hiding place, hearing footsteps muffled from behind the door, getting quieter and quieter until I could hear them no more.

I released the breath I'd been holding when he came in, and sighed with relief. I crawled out from under the table, and placed the sword back in its sheath once more. I waited a little while before opening the wretched door once more, hoping it would be out of earshot of Rood. I quickly opened the door, swung myself through it out to the main hall once more and stopping myself as I pushed my weight on the door to close it quickly, and slowly turned the knob again, and slowly and quietly shut the door.

I turned around again to the set of stairs leading to the mead hall, opening this door without any sort of squeaking problems. I poked my head above ground level so that I could survey the room before going into plain sight. No one was around. I tiptoed up the rest of the stairs leading me to the ground level, passing by the Companions' axe of legend, Wuuthrad.

I walked past the main dining table, which was completely clear of any sort of dishes, mead, or wines like it usually was. It was almost unsettling for some reason to see only the candlesticks on it. Hurrying to one of the doors that would take me to the back of Jorrvaskr, which is also where the training grounds were, I sped across the room before anyone else would enter through the doors leading to the main road of Whiterun, which was where all the warriors would probably be, or from downstairs from the main halls underground.

I quickly pushed the door open, and shut it behind me by leaning back on it. I sighed with relief again. So far, so good. I thought. Luckily, I was right. The training grounds were empty, and I was currently in the clear. I walked past a few small, wooden, square tables with a few chairs each, and made my way around Jorrvaskr, leaning against the wall so no one could spot me from the other side.

I slowly poked my head from around the building. Nobody. I slowly pushed myself off of Jorrvaskr, and walked to the other side of it. It felt like all of Whiterun was desolate. I started walking towards the main gate in the distance, and the closer I got, I could start hearing fighting, and some sort hissing...and bones creaking and rattling. We were being invaded by skeletons.

I began to run towards the gate, and it seemed to increase in size the closer I got, until I could begin to make out the wood grain on the massive doors. I reached out my hand to push the gates open, but I was tackled. I lied on the ground, thinking I had been caught. My eyes were clenched shut, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. So sorry." I repeated. No response other than a hiss.

I opened my eyes to find a skeleton with an iron axe standing over me. "Oh, son of a-" I started, smacking the creature with my sword and sending it flying. I stood up from where I was, lucky the thing hadn't gotten another attack on me. I had only been tackled. It ran towards me, and everything slowed down. I swung my sword again, and as my sword made contact, the skeleton seem to crumble to a black dust, which went inside of me.

I sat there and gazed at the axe the skeleton had been holding. That was all that was left of it. Everything else evaporated, and I absorbed it. What the hell...? I thought. I started to freak out, not knowing what was going on. I stumbled over my own feet a little going backwards, and I gained my balance. I turned towards the gate not wanting to think about what just happened.

I pushed the gate open, and found myself in a war zone. The guard towers that were usually empty outside of Whiterun were full of Stormcloak soldiers,.equipped with bows and a quiver of arrows on their backs, a sword in one hand, a shield in the other. Crap, I knew I forgot something... I didn't get a shield...or armor...I sighed again. Arrows were flying outwards from Whiterun in all directions, this wasn't just some small attack, this was a full-on invasion.

I stood still in front of the gates, paralyzed in fear, and chills down my back. I never would have expected this. I slowly walking out into open Skyrim, where the others were, defending there positions and homes. I tried to avoid as much attention as possible, which was hard because there were guards posted everywhere, even where the battle wasn't taking place as a defensive line. There was a skeleton inside Whiterun...shows just how good they were.

I continued forward from the walls of Whiterun until I found myself in an open field, away from the others, but still covered by a good amount of skeletons. I unsheathed my sword again, bracing myself for a fight. One skeleton lunged at me, and I reacted with my instincts, swinging my sword in the air after the dark conjuration. Once more, I felt the blade vibrate upon contact, but as soon as it was defeated in battle, it disintegrated into a black dust, which I only absorbed.

Another skeleton lunged, dead, another, dead, it seemed like an endless wave of them, and the fact that every time I killed one, it dissolved made it unsettling. After a good dozen of the fleshless soldiers slain by my blade, I came up with an idea. Usually, under normal circumstances, a necromancer is who controls things such as this. As long as the necromancer is alive, he or she could continue to conjure up these things.

If I could kill the necromancer and destroy the root of all this, it just may be enough to be able to prove myself. I made a mad dash through a large group of skeletons, holding out my sword to slay as much of them as possible, and as soon as I made it to the other side, I frantically looked all over in every direction as far as my sight could reach to find the source of the creatures. The problem was that they were coming from all directions, and found myself being surrounded on all sides. I boxed myself in.

They closed in on me, and whenever one left the group to attempt a strike, I turned them into the dust. I started to freak out, knowing how screwed I was. In a flash of silver, a half dozen skeletons fell to the ground, into a mountain of bones. With only a few more strikes, all the skeletons were cleared, and I found myself looking up at Max, no emotion in his eyes other than pure fury. I slowly showed a guilty smile, shrugging.

"What are you doing here?!" He hissed.

"Why would you care? It's not like I'm needed alive. After all, I'm not dovahkiin."

"Go back to Jorrvaskr, now."

"No." I said bluntly.

"Why? What reason do you have to be here?" He asked angrily.

"You wouldn't understand." I said in a mocking tone, narrowing my eyes.

"Go, now!" He yelled, turning around and slashing a skeleton and causing it to fall apart.

"No." I repeated.

"Listen, I-" He started, looking behind me, and pushing me to the side and to the ground. When I looked back up, Max was standing where I just was, looking down. I heard a whirring of a passing arrow, and noticed where he was staring. I saw an arrowhead coming out of Max's back, and the butt of the arrow in his chest. Where my head had just been. He went pale, and fell to the ground.

I looked around, the skeletons were retreating, and the warriors cheered in victory. "Max?" I asked. No reply. I crawled towards him, holding back tears. "Max?" I asked again. He was still breathing, but barely, in short breaths, and he sounded like he was choking. I felt my lips begin to quiver.

"Nick..." He managed to say.

"Max...please don't do this...I-I'm..." I struggled to speak. "Don't...don't go...please." I began to sob.

A small smile appeared on his face. He was looking straight up into the sky and chuckled a bit. He swallowed hard, "D-don't worry Nick...we'll...we'll see each other-" He grunted in pain, "-in a little bit...just remember, you...you'll be...Revolutionary..."

"Max?" I asked, tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt a warm liquid running down my back and arm. A thick stream of blood was coming from my shoulder.

"It's alright...I'm just taking a...a little nap." He coughed up some blood. His eyes weren't focused on anything any longer, just staring up into the sky. "You know how much I love naps...right...?"

"Please don't!" I begged, resting my head on his chest, next to the arrow.

His lips were quivering. "I-I'm coming home Anri..." He fell silent, and he stopped breathing. His eyes were still, his face unmoving.

I began to cry again, begging for him to wake up. It stayed that way for awhile, nothing but silence other than my sobbing and begging. That was the last thing I remember before everything faded into an endless black void.