23th Sun's Dusk… 0500…
Ralof rode with his brothers-in-arms, lost in thought as they joked around him. He had expected a fight at Helgen, not what Thorygg had done. Cutting off the pass had been a genius move, without costing the Stormcloaks any bloodshed. The Empire had been taken off-guard and with the game trails fully mapped by hunters, they had cut-off the advancing reinforcements in the South.
Ralof smiled as he mulled over his thoughts. If everything else went that easily, the war would be over in a week. He laughed at his views. Stupid Empire has no idea what we have planned for them...
In reality, it had been a drunken thought and Thorygg had decided to go with it. The High King had made Thorygg Sun-Killer their leader for a reason and Ralof was happy to be under his guidance.
"Hey Ralof, think Falkreath will be as easy of a target as Helgen?"
The woman's voice pulled him from his musings. "I hope so, Inga. I want to head back to Riverwood soon. I have my eye on a woman there and I think she misses me!"
"No one misses that ugly mug of yours, Ralof!"
Ralof turn on his horse to look at the man behind him. "Your wife does, Hared."
Taunts and jeers went up around the two men as they rode and traded barbs.
Ralof sank back into his saddle once more letting his mind drift over Helgen. For little while, he reflected on the last time he had been there. The dragon, the High King, the young girl he had rescued. He let the sigh come out, thinking about how differently he had expected things to go. He'd been promoted in the Army because of it, but years had passed since then.
His thoughts slipped to Azriel. Ivarstead seemed like ages ago now, when in reality it had only been a few scant weeks. It seemed so wrong to him that after everything, High King Ulfric and the Dragonborn would be at each other's throats. She had been so sure of joining up with them at one point. Then when she had found Ralof to talk to him, something had changed. He looked down at the reins in his hands.
"Ulfric isn't what he seems to be, Ralof! Please, you have to hear me out."
"What are you trying to say? We know who he is." Ralof kept his voice low so no one could hear them.
"No, you don't. Ralof, he's just as bad as the Thalmor. He took me to his prison… the thing's they're doing to those people. He's not the man you think he is. I'm telling you he is going to drive out or enslave every race but Nords. Why can't you just listen to me?" Ralof shook his head, she had begged him to listen. Pleaded even… He had turned her away.
He watched as one of the men kicked a Dark Elf. It bothered him, but he said nothing. It wasn't his place. They had taken prisoners to guard the supplies and to provide services. But, they weren't Nords, so what did it matter? He had seen things done to them he didn't agree with. But, it wasn't his place to question, Thorygg's orders. Thorygg had taken Dark Elves in the Rift, that was true. But, this was war, wasn't it? They had never done such a thing in the past, but Thorygg had said things needed to change for them to win. The others never batted an eye at him, simply following orders.
Ralof bit his tongue. She should be riding next to him, a sister-in-arms fighting the Empire she hated. Not marked as a traitor to Skyrim. After everything she had done for Nords, their hatred for her bothered him.
His mind wandered back to Ivarstead during the vampire attack.
"…We're under orders to arrest… or kill you..." He took a breath, looking away. "Mostly, kill. Azriel, whatever you've done, you can make this right. Go back to him and join our cause…"
Azriel had flinched at his words. He wished he'd known what had happened back then. He'd heard some wild stories, but nothing substantial.
"You know I won't do that. He's hateful, Ralof, and it shows everywhere he's been. He's put Nords to the sword before. Why wouldn't he do that again? Think about it Ralof, you're too good of a man to fight for him."
Ralof shook his head in disbelief. "You've become jaded, Azriel. I wish you could know the good things he's done for us."
"Name something."
She was always so impatient. Always in a hurry, as if the Daedra themselves chased her. Constantly moving, thinking… never resting. Even her words came swiftly when she spoke. That accent of hers always made it hard for him to understand her when she was angry.
"He's the Bear of Markarth! He threw out the Forsworn. And he'll do the same to those damn Elves and the Empire!"
"That's what I thought you'd say." Azriel scoffed.
It had been obvious she knew what his answer would be.
"He's only brought war to Skyrim, Ralof. He killed the Nords that tried to live in peace with the Forsworn at Markarth. He condemned the Dunmer to squalor in Windhelm. He makes the Khajiit skirt his Hold. And the Argonians live in filth outside of the city. The man murdered the High King. He'll kill anyone that gets in his way. He damned the name of Talos by misusing it for his cause."
"You're an outsider. You don't see it."
If only he could go back and give her more… make her see the light. Instead, he'd failed and stared at her in silence before answering with the worst possible answer he could give her. He had cursed himself a thousand times on his walk from Ivarstead to Riften. But, his last comment bothered him most. He had been angry with her and the Companion. He still regretted his resentment. She deserved better than such a rude comment after saving his life. She deserved to understand.
"You're too close to see what's right in your face. The man is using you and everyone loyal to him to wage a war against their own brothers. Ralof, go home for a while. Go see Gerdur and Hod..."
"I can't Azriel. I need to continue on and send word back of the attack. I will not say anything about you being here."
How could he have? The woman had gone to Sovngarde and back for his people. The Gods themselves had made her Dragonborn. How could he kill her after saving her? It was a death sentence to arrest her or to draw a sword against her… he could never do it.
But, she had changed from the young girl he had rescued at Helgen. Her time fighting gods know what had changed her. Rumors of her surviving impossible odds and accomplishing things no one else could, breathed of something sinister of late. Dark magic seemed to follow her. Each time they had met, she had seemed more menacing.
Ralof shivered. Her fire had never been so controlled. But, it was her eyes that had bothered him. The cold calculating look, filled with a bestial hunger like a predator. She scares me more than a vampire… more than…
"Message from the front, Sir." The young Nord jogged next him, interrupting his thoughts. "Hold position here for the night."
Ralof called out to the others in his group. "Everyone Hold!" Ralof nodded to the messenger. "Send word back, have tenders set up the horses. Where is Thorygg?"
"He's at the front. Problem with the Trolls again, Sir."
Ralof groaned at the thought as he spurred his horse on. Damn trolls, nothing but trouble.
It took him several minutes to catch up to Thorygg.
"What's the problem?" Ralof watched the large Nord attempting to calm several trolls.
"The problem? The problem is they're trained to find vampires and they're upset. What do think that means?"
Thorygg grumbled and tightened his grip on his reins. "Then you need to tell us this! We can't smell the night walkers like your trolls can, Gunmar." He turned in his saddle catching Ralof and Inga watching. "What are you two milk-drinkers doing just sitting there? Get some men and scour the area. Kill the damn bloodsuckers and get back and report."