DRAGON CRISIS
Destiny Unraveled
XV
20th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 203
"Are we ready?"
A collective grunt was heard in response to that question as the group struggled to stay awake. No one had slept well and it was already wearing them down. Ziiah sighed as she wondered if perhaps they should've delayed their departure for another day. But then we'd have to make haste by horse, she remembered Kaani's obnoxious complaining. Hence, they decided to leave in the morn the next day. The preparation for their trip was an ordeal in itself. As it happened, Tarhrin was locked up in the basement of his own house. How, no one's sure. Needless to say, the gang spent a better part of the early morning getting the lock on the escape door picked open. With Ziiah's particular aptitude - in no small part due to Vex's strenuous training - they got the Thane free in no time. However, their troubles hardly ended there.
Veilheim was drunk. He was so drunk that he couldn't tell the difference between his left and right hand. Kaani utilized her magical prowess yet again to speed up the sobering process. Granted, it worked and Veilheim was stuck with a massive headache and hangover. Nyx, of course, made fun of his Nord companion and was joined shortly after by Elvaynu who seemed to gain a particular satisfaction from Veilheim's misfortune. Something about ash-hoppers and Dwemer ruins; no one dared to question them about it.
Then came the packing. Normally, people prepare in advance. These people do not. Tarhrin waited for his Steward to prepare his backpack - a Steward he doesn't have - so he waited for Rayya to return from her morning patrol. Veilheim failed to pack for obvious reasons and Nyx claimed to have packed but was reprimanded by Elvaynu who noticed his lack of bags or satchels or any kind of thing with a carrying capacity larger than a knife. Kaani had too much stuff to carry so it took her a while to figure out what was worth taking. Whatever works against a dragon, Ziiah commented several times. Kaani merely glared at her.
Elvaynu made the least amount of trouble. Seeing as she barely had anything on her as she left the prison, she was ready in due time. Ziiah was also another early achiever who joined her Dunmer friend at the dinner table in the morning. They even managed to get some food in their bellies. After a certain time, they heard someone coming down the stairs. Shirtless Loro trotted down the stairs, visibly somewhat half asleep. Ziiah took notice quickly that he was neither dressed nor packed, which resulted in them waiting for another half an hour.
Fortunately, they weren't far behind schedule and made their way to Kynesgrove just before sunrise.
Kaelan stared wordlessly, still shocked.
"She pierced its head?" he asked, repeating what the guardsman said. "That's how she killed it?"
The guardsman nodded, annoyed by the neverending rounds of questions. "For the last time, yes."
Kaelan hummed. "I see... Alright, you're dismissed."
The Nord scoffed as he turned on his heel, glad to be rid of the Altmer and his overbearing pompous arrogance. Meanwhile, Kaelan was lost in his thoughts, piecing together all the accounts he had collected from the witnesses of the (in)famous event at the Western Watchtower. Before his trip to Whiterun, he had heard that the Whiterun guard, along with the mysterious Dragonborn, shot down the dragon from the sky and the Dragonborn suddenly Shouted. His investigation, however, painted a different picture. While many of them had holes in their memory regarding the battle itself, the pivotal moment was remembered by all - the Dragonborn pierced the dragon's skull and single-handedly defeated it. Curious, he thought. What made the scenario even more curious was the fact that the Dragonborn was young - very young. I can almost imagine Elenwen's face when I write this in the report, he thought as he chuckled.
"Something particularly funny?"
Kaelan sighed as he faced Jarl's Housecarl, Irileth. "In this place? I think I've seen rats smile more often than people."
Irileth frowned, not amused at all. "We've summoned all that were at the watchtower. You have the full story, undiluted and from the source. Now, if you would be so kind..."
"I don't think I've ever been asked so nicely to leave," Kaelan laughed.
"You were treated as a guest as long as you didn't overstay your welcome," Irileth reminded him sternly.
Kaelan nodded. "True. However, there's one more thing I need to know."
Irileth was quiet for a while. He understood her prolonged silence as a sign to continue.
"Where is she now?" he asked.
Irileth sighed. "That will be a long story..."
Kaelan smirked. "I'm in no hurry."
Irileth resisted the urge to scoff. "I can see that."
Kaelan was silent as he allowed her to continue. "She and several others left two days ago during the curfew. The watch saw them leave in the direction of Riverwood."
"And you didn't stop them?" Kaelan asked.
"The Jarl called off the pursuit by the time we learned of their departure," Irileth said though Kaelan heard a hint of bitterness in her tone. "He was advised not to interfere with her actions."
Kaelan frowned. "Advised by whom?"
"Thane Tarhrin of Falkreath," she spat.
The Altmer was certain he had heard that name before but couldn't quite remember. "Is there a chance they're still together in Riverwood?"
Irileth shook her head. "I doubt it. At this point, they could be anywhere in Skyrim."
"Perhaps," Kaelan mused before bowing curtly. "Thank you for your cooperation. I will now be on my way."
"Good riddance," Irileth muttered as she turned on her heel. "Guards, escort him outside the city!"
A couple of men saluted the housecarl before stomping over to Kaelan's side. Amused, the Altmer smirked as he allowed the men to walk him down the stairs. Meanwhile, Irileth made her way to the war room where Balgruuf and his Imperial captain were pouring over numerous forts marked on Skyrim's map.
"The Thalmor left," Irileth said once she was close to the Jarl.
"Finally," Balgruuf sighed. "He was irritating."
"He asked about their whereabouts," Irileth added.
Balgruuf looked at her. "And?"
"I told him the truth," she said plainly. "I don't know."
The Jarl chuckled and shook his head.
Sybil coughed as she struggled against the cold wind that whistled across Skyrim's northern shore. She summoned a flame spell to keep herself warm yet the cold persisted as she made her way further west. The harsh environment throppled all of her attempts to make herself comfortable. Stupid girl, the voices nagged her obnoxiously. As if you could survive in the wilderness on your own. Sybil rolled her eyes. Wouldn't be the first time, she countered just as viciously.
As she walked along the coastline, she reached a small leather tent. Hesitant at first, she inspected the enclosure from a safe distance, checking if anyone was inside. Alas, all she could see were a couple of bedrolls and discarded shoes. Upon closer look, she noticed goblets and flowers scattered across the floor. Someone enjoyed themselves, she sniggered before noticing her surroundings, hopefully during warmer seasons. As the wind blew again, Sybil gripped her coat firmly when it threatened to fall off her shoulders. Guess it's in the tent for now, Sybil thought and entered the shelter shortly thereafter.
Once inside, she first made sure to unfasten the covers of the entrance, ensuring the wind doesn't bother her while inside the tent. When she was done securing the leather to the ground, she moved on to make fire. Warming her hands first by rubbing them together, she gathered all of the flowers she saw lying on the floor. Gathering them in a single spot, she snapped her fingers and produced a small spark of fire, just enough to light up the flowers. Knowing the flowers won't burn for longer than a couple of minutes, she cast a restorative spell every so often, ensuring the flowers don't burn entirely to ashes. Just for a short while, she thought as she tried to warm herself. Long enough so I don't have to waste all of my magicka reserves. She suddenly felt a sharp pain course through her cranium, forcing her to hiss. Die, die, die, die, the voices repeated incessantly. Die and join us. Sybil ignored them.
Time went by and the sun was coming down. The flowers were burning faster; much faster than she could restore them. Realizing that she was out of options, she made a small incision on her pointer finger and drew an elaborate rune on the ground. She made sure the design was as complex as possible, given that complexity of the rune determined the longevity of the effect it produced. Once satisfied, she uttered a string of chants until she could see a ball of fire forming. Sighing in relief, Sybil smiled as she wrapped her cloak around her frame. Celebrate while you can, the voices cackled. You will die anyway.
"Perhaps," Sybil said softly, "but at least it won't be by my hand.
So you say, mage, the voices whispered.
"Impossible..."
Swords were drawn at once as Sasha entered the Palace of the Kings, Ulfric's home and center of power, unannounced and without guards to escort her. She chuckled at Ulfric's choice of words.
"Improbable, my Jarl," she corrected him as she curtsied. "It is good to see you again, Ulfric."
"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, to you," Galmar Stonefist, Ulfric's second-in-command, seethed as he pointed his battleaxe at her. "What are you doing here?"
"Still doubtful of my intentions, housecarl?" Sasha asked with a grin on her face. "Have I ever been untruthful to anyone in this court?"
"You weren't exactly honest either, you bitch," he growled in response only to be reprimanded by Ulfric himself.
"That's enough, Galmar," Ulfric said as he stood from his throne. "I will take it from here."
"But, Ulfric - "
"Leave us," the Jarl said finally.
The guards and courtiers left immediately, knowing better than to test their liege's temper. They were shortly followed by Ulfric's Steward Jorleif who retreated to his quarters upstairs. Galmar was stoic as he refused to leave his friend with Sasha alone in the room. Ulfric approached him and put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
"It is alright," Ulfric whispered. "She can't harm me more than I can harm her."
Still hesitant, Galmar nodded and sheathed his weapon before excusing himself. On his way out of the throne room, he spared a single glare at Sasha who ignored his presence entirely. Scoffing, he left the Palace and headed to the barracks. A loud thud followed as he shut the main gate closed.
"Still charming, I see," Sasha commented as her eyes met Ulfric's.
"Can you blame him?" he asked. "You didn't leave a good impression the last time you were here."
Sasha glanced downward. "Yes, well - "
Ulfric frowned. "It's been nearly twenty years, Sasha. I thought we were done with this cycle of you coming and going as you please."
She was quiet for a while. "I came to help you, Ulfric."
"Help me?" he repeated. "How?"
"I came to offer my abilities and knowledge to the Stormcloak army," she said.
Taken aback, Ulfric stuttered, "Y-You support Skyrim's independence? I thought you were fed up with the rebellion."
Sasha smiled softly at the Bear of Markarth and reached out her hand to touch his cheek. She was surprised at how rough his skin had become over the years. Granted, his experiences were less nurturing than what the other Jarls lived through their early adulthood.
"Have you forgotten?" she said softly. "We used to fight together back in the day, side to side."
Ulfric felt his breath being taken away. He was witnessing something he only imagined and dreamed of. He had tried hard not to forget her touch or the smell of her hair. Every memory was a treasure he nurtured within his mind. Letters, her portraits, the armor she used to wear - all were stored in his safe in the hope of seeing her again one day. Hope...
Sighing, Ulfric shook his head as he gently removed her hand from his cheek. "That's the past. I'm concerned with now."
Sasha remained posed despite the burn of his gesture. "As am I."
"Then tell me," he said finally, "why are you here?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she glanced at the throne behind him and the sigil of the bear that hung above it.
"How many have died since this all began?" she asked no one in particular as she walked toward the stone seat. "How many will die to keep the peace after?"
Ulfric followed her with his gaze while standing in place. "I fight because I must. Those are not the questions we should concern ourselves with."
"Perhaps we should," she said as she touched the armrest of his throne. "You should, if you are intent on winning."
Ulfric was quiet for a moment. "I am intent on winning and saving my people."
Sasha smiled before she turned around to face him again. "Good. Otherwise, I'd be bringing you useless information."
"What kind of information?" he asked as he came closer to her.
"The kind that might not only ensure your victory," she said, adding, "but also your position as the High King."
Ulfric frowned as he listened closely to what she had to say.
