"All these steps aren't good for my knee," the guard to Sam's left complained in between pants as they approached the towering wooden doors to Dragonsreach.
"By the Divines Bjord no one cares about your knee!" the other guard exclaimed in frustration. "What kind of soldier doesn't wear knee guards?"
Bjord leaned forward across Sam to glower through the shadows of his helmet at his companion. "What kind of bandit shoots someone in the knee?" he retaliated hotly.
"One with bad aim perhaps?" Sam suggested jovially. "It's mostly bone after all, difficult for the arrow to penetrate."
"Shouldn't we be taking him to the jail?" the guard on the right queried dubiously.
Sam gave his manacled hands a shake prompting a jingle from the chains. "Oh no, less fun, through the front please friends."
Without quite knowing why the guards obeyed, pushing open one of the heavy doors and escorting Sam through.
Sulla and his companions followed just seconds later hot on their heels. Sulla wondered in disbelief why the guards were escorting Sam through the front and filled with dread as he imagined who all might be lingering in the main hall to seek the drunk mage in manacles.
They entered a wide lobby area that was being swept by a grey haired servant who halted in her sweeping to glower at them.
"Don't you go trackin' your dirty boots on my clean floor!" she yelled to Sulla's group.
"I'm not wearing boots," Christophe retorted jovially as he smiled over to her and gestured down with one hand to his leather shoes.
Their sudden eagerness ended when they found themselves halting awkwardly behind the guards and Sam on the second level of the hall between two banquet tables and before the raised up throne area of the Jarl.
It was like being in the belly of a great beast as wooden arches lined the ceiling like the bones of a great ribcage and a large, golden fire blazed before them as if it were the heart of the creature.
The Jarl was upon his throne looking unimpressed as he stared the guards and their prisoner down. He was cast in an ethereal glow from the golden flames of the fire and Sulla wondered cynically if the positioning of the throne and fireplace were intentional.
As Sulla and the others stepped around the fire to stand directly behind the guards and their captive he saw that the higher section was crowded, presenting Sulla with a sufficient audience for his humiliation. He winced slightly as he spied General Tullius amongst the small group of curious people.
"What is the meaning of this?" This demand came from a balding man wearing chainmail armour and a golden-yellow tunic.
He came forward and descended two steps so that he was closer to them but still above them.
"Prisoners go to the dungeon not here!" he snapped.
"Sulla?" Tullius queried as he spied the blonde hair in the background, highlighted to a bold flash of yellow by the flames flickering behind it.
The two guards, who looked baffled, glanced over their shoulders and gawked at the group that had followed behind them.
Sulla released Celestia's hand and stepped round the guards and Sam to put himself directly before the Captain.
"Sir, I came to introduce the followers I have gathered for my proposed adventure. Unfortunately," he added apologetically before turning a glare back to Sam, "one has become involved in a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding," Tullius repeated dubiously as he stared down at Sulla.
Sulla read the disappointment on his superior's face as he looked back to him and felt a very real sting from it. His mission hadn't even started and already it was a joke and worse, he wasn't just embarrassing himself but Tullius too and in front of a Jarl.
"He was disrupting the peace," Bjorn grumbled. "Singing with that priest."
"He's the only mage who offered their services to me," Sulla explained hastily.
"And the rest?" Tullius pried. "Who are they?"
"Move aside!" the tunic wearing man barked at the guards.
The two shuffled in opposing directions before realising their error as they both tried to pull Sam with them.
Sam gave a jovial laugh as his arms were jerked out at either side. "Gentlemen I only go both ways when there's Firebrand Wine to be had," he joked loudly.
"Left," Bjorn ordered sharply as he yanked.
Exposed before the Jarl, his entourage, and General Tullius, Christophe felt the need to offer up a brief wave and a smile.
"Idiot," Arcturus muttered under his breath. He tilted his head up to expose his handsome face from under the shade of his helmet. His sharp eyes took in Tullius and the Jarl with a careful stare that gave nothing away.
Tullius raised his greying eyebrows slightly as he took in the small group. "A member of the Penitus Oculatus," he said praisingly with an approving nod. "Surely this is a little less challenging than you're used to."
"Perhaps," Arcturus retorted smugly, "but I am intrigued by it anyway General."
Sulla stiffened slightly at Tullius' comment, feeling just a little displaced by it.
"Aren't you the Emperor's bodyguard?" the authoritative man in chainmail quipped.
"Amongst other things," Arcturus mused dismissively.
"Those being spy and assassin," this cool comment came from the Jarl himself.
Arcturus took a few steps forward so that he was standing beside Sulla and in better view of the Jarl. "I serve at the Emperor's pleasure," he remarked calmly before offering a sweeping bow. "And I respect all who rule in his Empire," he added as he stood upright again.
"Indeed," the Jarl murmured as he looked down at the soldier with suspicion.
Tullius looked impressed as he watched the exchange.
"Well we are glad to have you on board," Tullius said sincerely. His gaze darted to Christophe, Aela, Celestia and Hedani. "Who else do we have?"
"Aela of the Companions," Aela announced herself proudly and loudly as she stepped forward. "A huntress and warrior," she boasted. "We solve problems and know glory is hard won-"
"And so on," Christophe interrupted hastily as he scurried forward. He ignored the glower he received from the redhead as he grinned up at Tullius. "I'm Christophe Bartlet, apparently the only one with a family name. I'm a ranger and I'm the archer," he added pointedly with a small smile.
"You're an archer," Aela growled out, "although with those tiny hands you probably can't shoot too far."
"My hands are of adequate size," Christophe retorted hotly.
He kept his gaze on Tullius and remained smiling despite the jibe as he stood with his hands clasped his back.
"Oh, oh, me next, me next!" Sam exclaimed before hiccuping as he swung his chained hands up enthusiastically. "Sam Guevenne I'm..." He glanced down at himself and frowned at the robes. "Either a priest or a mage," he guessed. "Or someone who's surrendered to the comforts of robes." He smiled as he looked up, turning his head so his smile was fixed upon the mage lingering near the Jarl. "He knows what I'm saying, probably no undergarments like myself, rather freeing no?" He hiccuped again.
The dark clothed mage on the throne platform scowled and muttered something under his breath.
"Is he drunk?" Tullius demanded as he gave Sulla a reprimanding look.
Sulla clenched his hands by his sides in an effort to resist pushing a palm against his brow to banish the headache budding there.
"We were celebrating," Christophe explained quickly, "both our good fortune in meeting such lovely companions and in getting the chance to join this intriguing quest. He just had a few too many last night, which really is his only crime."
Sulla watched Tullius' face for his reaction, unsure if he should feel gratitude or not to Christophe for his cover story.
A loud clap of thunder sounded outside prompting a small squeal of alarm from Celestia.
Sulla glanced to the windows raised high up in the wooden walls to the left and saw that it had become very dark outside. Without warning the heavens opened up and a torrent of rain began hammering hard on the wooden rafters.
A loud, rumbling noise in the distance followed that might be mistaken for thunder by those who had not heard it before.
"Papa!" Celestia shrieked out as she bolted forward to the blonde.
The others looked to her in surprise as she grabbed at Sulla's waist with both hands as her body began to give violent shakes.
Sulla ignored the sense of fear trickling through him with the sound and crouched down to pluck the young girl up in his arms as tears started to trickle down her cheeks.
"My little star it's alright, you're safe," he murmured as he cradled her close.
Another low rumble sounded out, barely audible over the heavy downpour.
"Those two weren't far enough apart to be thunder," Christophe murmured as he looked about their group.
"That's because it's a dragon," Arcturus remarked calmly.
The entrance door was forced open suddenly prompting Celestia to tense in alarm. Sulla turned with her to face the arrival charging in.
An armoured female Dunmer hastened up the steps, soaked from head to foot and leaving muddy prints in her wake.
The maid clenched at her broom tightly with both hands as she looked to the fresh prints in a fury.
"My lord," the new arrival said as she bypassed Sulla's group without a glance and ascended the steps to the lofty level of the Jarl, "there are reports of a dragon circling the western watchtower."
"Papa," Celestia wailed fearfully as she clutched as the edges of Sulla's top and burrowed her head against him.
"That's someone else's problem right?" Christophe queried as he glanced over at the blonde.
"Coward," Aela chided.
"Self-preserving," he corrected with a nervous smile.
"I think I know a good song about a dragon," Sam announced cheerfully. "Who's for some singing?"
"Papa, papa," Celestia was babbling in terror, her voice breaking with sobs that slipped out.
"Shush now it's nowhere near," Sulla lied as he raised his right hand slightly to press it down gently on her head.
Sulla worried at the fear that consumed his daughter. Celestia had not seen the dragon in Helgen only heard its thunderous roar and seen the great shadow that for a moment had blocked out the sun. She had seen the aftermath too, the flames that had set alight to people and buildings indiscriminately, turning a town to ruin in a matter of minutes. Yet it was collectively enough to have her terrified of the creatures.
When Celestia's cries became louder it prompted several looks of concern her way.
The Jarl rose from his throne and gave a small smile when he spotted a young boy pilfering a honey-nut treat from one of the banquet tables.
"Nelkir!" he called out to him as he waved him forward. "We have guests. Come and show this young lady to our kitchens for something warm to drink and a sweet roll as she's probably hungry."
The boy glanced up with a scowl, annoyed to have been spotted and even angrier at being ordered. He murmured something under his breath before moving to stand before his father near Sulla. He looked up to the crying Celestia with displeasure showing Sulla the scorn on his face.
"I don't usually tend to crying milk babies," he sneered haughtily.
"Nelkir," the Jarl admonished, "she is of your age. Be hospitable and go now." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Put her down soldier, she will be safe in these walls and the kitchens are quieter and warmer."
Sulla suppressed his frown as he felt Celestia's grip tighten upon him. He wanted to ignore the order or at the very least take Celestia to the kitchens himself but he couldn't disobey a Jarl especially not in front of his general.
Outside the storm continued to rage but no matter how loud the thunder or heavy the rain it could not drown out the repetitive calls of an angry dragon.
Arcturus moved closer to the blonde and leaned down slightly so that he was close to Celestia. "This place was designed as a great prison for dragons," he advised her, "they will not come here, they fear it too much."
Catching what he said prompted Aela to remark sardonically, "oh that you know. Jorrvaskr is meaningless to you but this place brings out the historian."
Arcturus stood upright and looked over to the redhead curiously. "That's some keen hearing you have," he observed.
Celestia pulled back from her father slightly, wiping at her soggy face with one as she looked to the Penitus Oculatus' soldier curiously. "Is that true?" she queried.
Arcturus nodded as he looked back to her reassuringly. "I have no reason to lie to you."
Sulla took the opportunity to crouch down with the girl as he felt the Jarl's impatient stare upon him. "Be a good girl and go with this young lad," Sulla instructed her, "and get yourself something nice to eat."
"I am no lad," Nelkir retorted curtly, "I am of a noble blood."
Seeing that Celestia was almost his height, prompted Nelkir to puff himself up slightly, extending his toes in his soft shoes and pushing out his chest against his fine, velvet tunic.
Sulla ignored him and instead gave his daughter an encouraging smile before standing upright again. "Hedani go with them," he ordered.
Hedani moved to obey but Nelkir was quick to oppose the decision.
"I will not be helping servants too!"
Nelkir snatched Celestia's hand and tugged her off sharply, determined to move swiftly before anymore orders came his way.
"And Hedani did so desire to taste the wine of a Jarl," the Khajiit commented woefully.
"On second thought stay," Sulla grumbled, "one member of the party in irons is enough."
"My liege, the dragon," the Dunmer who was still wet and scowling addressed the Jarl impatiently.
"I agreed to dangerous treasures hunts in ruins with traps and Falmer that might torture and kill me, not dragons," Christophe stated firmly.
"Weakling," Aela chided him loudly. "What better challenge to prove ourselves worthy for this quest than a dragon?"
Feeling all eyes on the high level fall upon them had Sulla wishing for just a moment that the floor might swallow him up and that Aela had a better indoor voice.
"What in all the Divines did you have to say that for!" Christophe shrieked as he leaned past Arcturus to show the redhead the rage and horror upon his face.
"That does seem a valid suggestion," General Tullius said carefully as he glanced to the Jarl.
The general's shrewd mind was turning as he contemplated that if Sulla and his party were successful not only would this bizarre and somewhat humiliating introduction to the party be forgotten but a boon might be owed by a Jarl who needed swayed to the side of the Empire.
Tullius turned to look down at Sulla and his companions. "Your quest will require a lot of funding and involve a lot of danger, this would seem an adequate test that you are all fit for the task," he advised them in a voice that rose to be audible over the thunder and echoed down the halls.
Arcturus looked disinterested as if he fought dragons on a daily basis whilst Aela clutched at the hilt of her sword and moved on the spot impatiently.
"I should like to play the dragon challenge," Sam remarked happily. "Providing I don't have to wear these silly things." He shook his chains out pointedly.
Christophe had paled and turned his glower onto to Sulla. Feeling it prompted the blonde to look to the Breton calmly.
"What's worse, the dragon or you woman friend?" Sulla queried.
"She'd probably have the dragon poisoned and burned before it opened its mouth," Christophe grumbled. He threw his hands outwards in despair. "Fine, fine, let's be stupid and suicidal but if I survive I want some Septim for it!"
"We can agree on that," Tullius retorted.
"My liege who are these people?" the Dunmer demanded. "This seems insane."
"Perhaps Irileth," the Jarl dismissed her concerns as he raised one hand slightly, "but at least if there are causalities they won't be ours."
The Jarl looked down upon Sulla and his group sternly. "May the Divines go with you then." He looked to the guards and Sam and added, "free the mage, he is to go with them."
"Wait, are we going now?" Christophe flustered.
"Well we don't want the dragon to fly away ice brain," Aela admonished him sardonically. She turned to face the way they had entered. "Let's be quick about this then!"
"It's pouring down out there," Christophe continued to protest.
Arcturus took a grasp on the Breton's arm and turned him around. "Come on before you humiliate our group some more," he scolded him.
"Huzzah I'm free!" Sam exclaimed happily as his cuffs were unlocked. "So blondie, have you fought a dragon before?" he queried excitedly as he hurried over to Sulla. "Because I haven't and I have been advised they're rather strong, large and angry fellows! Although, I did know of one who mellowed quite nicely on a few barrels of mead, the problem was his voice became a tad slurred and then he was freezing things without meaning to including a poor Bosmer friend of mine."
Sulla ignored the mage's ramblings as he strode after his small group and wondered again if perhaps some deity had been offended to him or if perhaps this was some Daedric Prince's cosmic joke that he should die fighting a dragon in a storm with this mess of a group.