Horns of War

The morning was still early, even with the time they had already spent out there. A half-sun made up the horizon and neither the moons nor the stars had faded completely from the sky. The wind still had the night's bite. Samuel yawned, his third in the last half-hour. As after every one, Lucia followed suit, rubbing dampness and sleep from her eyes. Even Moth felt one welling up within him.

The children were on either side of him, wrapped in cloaks but still close to him for warmth. Both clutched fishing poles as well, making an earnest attempt to remain awake. Together, they sat atop a ledge that overlooked the White River, which sprayed their feet as it rushed past below.

"Don't think we're gonna catch much today," Samuel mumbled with a sniff.

"Are you surprised?" Moth asked, eyes staying on his line.

The boy leaned back and propped himself up on one hand. "No, not really."

A moment of silence passed between them, filled only with the sounds of night's creatures and the river. Moth's eyes left the fishing line and went up to the mountains. The Throat of the World was far and high. He wondered if he could make out the dragons that flew around its peak.

Then, Lucia asked, "Do you think Papa knows he's scaring away all the fish?"

"'Does he know?'" Moth repeated.

The surface of the river exploded. Felwinter breached through, water streaming from his face and beard as he ran both hands down them, gasping for air. "Of course, he knows. That's why he's doing it," Moth finished.

Samuel called out to him. "Caught any yet, Papa?"

"They're all very slippery!"

"Isn't that what fish hooks are for?" Lucia asked.

"Gods forbid you fish like a normal person," Moth grumbled.

"A true Nord's fingers are the hooks!" Felwinter bellowed in the worst accent he could affect, "His arms, the line!" With that, he sucked in the largest gulp of air he could and dived back down.

Lucia frowned. "But we're not Nords…"

"Papa once told me that he has a Nord great, great…great…great…" Samuel began muttering to himself and counting on his fingers.

"Ancestor, Samuel."

"Right! Papa told me he has a Nord ancestor. On his ma's side."

"Oh." Lucia nodded. "What about his pa's side?"

Moth's eyes flicked over to her. "Lucia, your line's moving."

It took a few seconds but when realization dawned on her, she sprang into action. She took the rope in hand and yanked on it.

Moth was aware it could have just been Felwinter tugging on her line. Still, he reached out towards Samuel and took his pole. "Go help your sister."

"Yes, sir." He quickly got to his feet and ran over to her. Taking hold of the rod, Samuel held it steady while Lucia put both hands into drawing in the line, hand over hand.

Moth watched and advised but did not step in. "Watch its direction. Mind the tension so it doesn't break."

It took some doing and there were moments Moth felt he'd have to step in, if only to stop them from being yanked forward themselves but they managed. He put down the rods and helped them pull it from the river completely, taking in the size of whatever creature was able to give the two of them such a fight. It took both of them just to hold it up.

"Well done," Moth rumbled, taking it into his arms, appreciating its weight. He placed it on the ground and delivered a quick but hard strike to the space between its eyes with his knuckle. Its struggling ceased in an instant. "You bring it out and then you take care of it as quickly as possible. Don't let it suffer. Understand?"

"Yes, Father."

"Yes, sir."

Moth lifted the fish again, dead entirely, and placed it in the basket they had brought along, atop some of the smaller ones they had managed to catch before Felwinter became bored. He rose back up and looked at the sun, full in the sky now. "We have enough. Tell your Papa we're done here."

Felwinter burst from the stream again at that moment, causing Lucia to wonder aloud if he could hear them from underwater. He trudged up the bank, two salmon about the size of his fists clenched in each hand. He held them up like some sort of prize. "You see this?" He crowed, "You see this?! Your father has provided!"

Both kids looked at the fish in his hand and then turned to look at the one they had caught, the one Moth was packing away. Felwinter eyed it too, over Moth's shoulder. "I'm not gonna have to cook that monster, am I?"

Lucia coughed then her brother broke into barely restrained laughter. Moth turned to glare but just received a grin for his trouble. Felwinter continued up the bank, shaking the dead fish at the children and sending the both of them squealing and running away. He placed both fish in the basket and then proceeded to throw an arm around Moth, pressing his soaking frame to his back.

Moth immediately picked up a towel and threw it behind, catching him square in the face and making him reel and laugh, muffled by the rag. By the time he was dried and clothed again, Moth had their things packed. He shoved the basket of fish into Felwinter's arms, who accepted it with only moderate complaint. When Moth went back to gather the rods, he heard him say, "Glad we managed to get around to this."

Felwinter's tone had shifted to something serious. "So am I," Moth responded. After the things he heard the night before…

Samuel and Lucia were some distance down the trail but remained in sight of their fathers. They stood atop another grassy ledge, staring towards the Throat of the World.

"Hey!" Felwinter's voice carried across the plains. "Start heading back. Stick to the path."

The two of them called back their understanding and immediately took off. Felwinter and Moth followed down the same trail, albeit slower. Moth could feel Felwinter's urge to speak and Felwinter didn't fight it for long. "Are you alright? " he asked, his voice even softer now.

"Fine." Moth kept his eyes straight ahead. "It is just all…hard to fathom."

Felwinter sighed. "Aela, Vilkas, Farkas. They were all pretty much the same when we were seeing off the initiates. Not sure Vilkas even slept at all," he said, "Haven't even seen Lydia yet."

They crossed the stone bridge that marked the transition from the plains to Whiterun's farmlands and continued down the trail, small buildings dotting the sides, many of the residents just now rising. The farmhands were already tending to the fields. A number hailed them, greeting with waves and titles.

"And you really have no idea when this…Miraak is coming?"

Felwinter sighed again. "I-" He froze and suddenly twisted around, his furrowed brow shooting straight up. Moth turned with him, following his gaze.

A creature had taken to following them. Four-legged, a dog from far away but too big and upon closer inspection, too translucent. Its feet made little sound as it padded up to them across the stone. Its raspy, excited breaths came through a slightly open mouth, though there were no lungs to fill nor empty.

"Now, why are you here?" Felwinter knelt and placed down the basket, reaching out. The wolf familiar pushed its head into his hand. "I don't remember summoning you."

"This has been happening for some time now," Moth told him, the familiar's eyes swiveling over at the sound of his voice. "Shows up at random times, mainly while you're away. Startles the townsfolk, helps around the house, keeps the children company even."

The familiar pulled away from Felwinter and went to Moth, circling him, rubbing its torso against his legs. "You sent him once before, when you and the others left to free Kodlak's spirit. Thought you had been sending him to us for a while now."

"I haven't but this one is definitely mine." Felwinter rose back up with the basket. "The first one I learned to conjure."

"You can tell?"

"Somewhat." To the wolf, he commanded, "Walk on."

The Daedric spirit obeyed, breaking into an easy bound to catch up to Lucia and Samuel.

Felwinter's expression soured immediately. "If he gives you or anyone any kind of trouble…"

"I know," Moth assured, "Not the first Daedra I've had to kill."

"Right. As for Miraak and when, no, I don't have an exact date. But he wants me prepared so I don't expect it to happen for a while."

"So we have time then. Just not a set timeline." They passed the stables and under the first gate, patches of stone to replace the parts broken in Ulfric's siege.

"Time to prepare and hopefully, time for things like this." Felwinter smiled at him.

"Hm. Here I thought that would be too much to hope for after today."

Felwinter only shrugged. "A man can dream, can't he?"

The kids disappeared into town, the familiar on their heels, drawing eyes as Moth said it would. Whiterun was quiet in the early morning, that space between waking and the bustle of the day. There were sounds of gentle conversation, wood being chopped and stacked, cooking fires and forges being lit. Felwinter could only wonder how things would change when the people learned. He could only wonder and dread.

Felwinter could feel the gravity of the situation weighing on him but deep down, he wondered how much of it was true. Moth, Lydia and the others took his revelations in their own way but he had the last week to let the knowledge weigh on his mind and he still did not feel like he understood any part of it; how to prepare Skyrim, how to prepare himself, even the full gravity of the situation. And he could not figure out where to begin.

Moth pushed his way into their home and held the door open for him. He indicated where he wanted Felwinter the basket and denied when asked if he wanted them preserved so he could get to them later. "How will the Companions be preparing?" Moth went to the wall to hang the rods up.

"They already train daily but…I've asked the Inner Circle to pay close attention to some of the older members. See who would take well to the Beast Blood."

Moth retrieved a knife. "It's not much."

"I know. But it's the best I can think of at this time."

Moth hummed and cut into the first fish. Felwinter went up the stairs and into their bedroom, retrieving a pile of letters stacked up on the table near the door. Lydia's door was closed but he heard no movement. It was unlikely she was still asleep, more likely she was training at Jorrvaskr. He took the letters back downstairs and dropped into a chair near the fire, now low in height.

He began to sift through, judging which ones were worth paying attention to right now and thinking on how meaningless this had all just become. People demanded that he throw himself at their personal and petty grievances while the world was being threatened with its end. Again. He resisted the urge to light them all on fire.

A few from the College, nothing urgent. One from Maven, asking about Solstheim because of course, she knew. Felwinter once again fought off the urge to reduce them to ash. One from the silver mines in Reach, another from Solitude's court, reminding him of the Moot.

Felwinter flipped over to the last and his eyes narrowed when they fell on the seal. The dragon sigil of the Legion. A letter from General Tullius, another to resist burning. The fact that the letter was directly penned and sent by Tullius, rather than some low-level administrator, or even Legate Rikke, gave it a sense of urgency that none of the others possessed.

Felwinter tore it open and read through it quickly. It was scant on actual information. Just a situation regarding the rebels. "General Tullius sent a letter," he said aloud.

"Why?"

"He wants me to meet him in Solitude as soon as possible regarding the rebels. Says it's urgent."

Felwinter heard Moth's knife strike flesh and the wood beneath. "Do you care?"

Felwinter ran a hand down his beard. "If this concerns the civil war, it needs to be settled quickly. We have bigger matters now. Elisif needs that crown."

The front door opened quietly. Lydia pushed her way through, sweaty and tired, her eyes cast to the ground. They lift up to Felwinter, to whom she gave a polite greeting. "I just came from Dragonsreach, Thane. The Jarl would like a word."

"About?"

"Something regarding the Legion. He didn't say anything else."

Felwinter could hear Moth cease moving. He waves Tullius' letter in the air. "As it so happens, Tullius wants to speak to me too." He pushed out of the chair with a grunt and headed towards the door, stopping by a mirror to brush down his beard with his hand. "I'll head up and when I come back, I'll head to Solitude."

"Alright," Moth said. Lydia moved aside to let him pass and when he did, she closed the door behind him. Moth returned to cleaning out the fish, still working on the big one. "You look tired," he said, "Did you not sleep last night?"

"I couldn't stay asleep last night," Lydia admitted, "Yesterday did not go as I expected."

"And how did you expect it to go?" He pushed the pile of entrails into a bucket on the floor.

Lydia blinked. "Well, I expected him to be angry…"

"He was angry. With me."

Lydia looked away. "And I didn't expect to learn what I did. I knew he was hiding something, the way he deflected questions regarding his trip and looked how he did but…" She paused and after a second, she went to sit down at the table near the door, hunched over, her hands clasped together. "I just wanted to give him the truth."

"He learned that Kodlak's murderer was still in Skyrim. He learned that we had been hiding it from him. Then, we learned that the same murderer is in league with yet another deluded tyrant who wants to take over the continent. One Felwinter believes might actually be able to do it." Moth realized he had stopped and restarted again on the fish, rougher with his movements. "Hard truths cut both ways, Lydia," he murmured.

Her head came up and he felt her eyes on him. He stopped again and he sighed. "But this…this is extreme. And I'm not sure how to move forward from here. It's Felwinter who needs to make that decision. All we can do is support him the best we can."

"Doesn't feel like enough."

"It didn't during Alduin. I'm not surprised it doesn't now." Moth thought back to that night, waiting to see if Felwinter would return or not. He had not felt such helplessness since the death of his mother. He started again on the fish and tried his best not to think too much about it.

"Legate Felwinter." Legate Quentin's greeting was distant and formal, his mouth trapped in a perpetual frown beneath his mustache. He was the first person Felwinter met when he got to the back of Dragonsreach and made for the upper floor.

"Quentin! Friend!" Felwinter returned the greeting loudly and without propriety, receiving a well-earned scowl.

The sound of approaching footsteps filled the room, stopping any further words between them. Jarl Balgruuf was nearly jogging as he rounded the corner. "Felwinter! Tell me you've received General Tullius' message."

"He sent it some time ago," Quentin said.

"I wasn't here, 'Some time ago.'"

"Well, the situation has escalated. You are to depart for Solitude with all haste."

Felwinter looked towards Balgruuf, who shook his head. "I got the same letter. No details." The Jarl's tone gained an edge.

Quentin showed no sign of noticing or caring. "This matter concerns the rebels. The general worries that lingering sympathies may hinder his ability to coordinate against them."

"Sympathies? They attacked my city!"

"Regardless," Quentin said dismissively. Felwinter thought back to what Danica had told him and wondered how much Quentin really knew about Balgruuf's "sympathies".

"The general's worries?" Felwinter asked, "Or Elenwen's?"

Legate Quentin affixed him with a look, carefully neutral but Felwinter saw the veneer of professionalism drop for a moment. "Does it matter?"

"No, not at all. His words are her's after all." The look became withering.

"Legate Quentin, I wish to speak to my Thane alone." Jarl Balgruuf gestured towards the entrance. The Imperial looked from him, to Felwinter and back, then bowed and quickly walked away. Balgruuf drew in close. "You're going, aren't you?"

"I am, if only to remind Tullius about making demands of me."

The Nord let out a long breath and rubbed his beard, agitated but hiding it well. "Watch the Thalmor while you're there," He told him, "They're up to something. I fear it concerns our city."

"What do you think?"

"I don't have the slightest idea and it grates on my nerves," he growled, "Can't shake the feeling all of Whiterun is being watched. I almost want to ban Heimskr from the city square, just for the fool's own safety." He growled again and looked at Felwinter, eyes full of sympathy. "I am sorry you have to go back out so soon."

Felwinter gave a thin, strained smile. "I got a week, didn't I? Practically luxury for me."

The door creaked again, shaking Moth and Lydia from their own silent thoughts. Moth rose to his feet. "Felwinter. What news?" He asked the sun-shaded figure that blocked the doorway.

"The Jarl and Legate Quentin both received a similar letter from the general. Definitely a problem with the rebels, so that'll be fun to deal with again."

Lydia also got to her feet. "Will you be telling them? The people in Solitude?"

"Not sure I should yet. Tullius and Elenwen, they'd take things out of my control for their own ends. The general, to pull more troops into the province, probably start occupying every city and the Thalmor, to assert more control. Present herself as the one and only person capable of protecting Skyrim, even though she'd just get every single one of us killed."

Felwinter approached Moth and when they were close enough, the two embraced roughly. "I understand," Moth mumbled into his shoulder. He pulled back and pressed his forehead against the other man's.

"I can't say when I'll be back…"

"The children will understand." Moth released him. "Go careful."

Felwinter nodded. The mark that traced down his right arm began to glow. Then it filled the room with bright light that enveloped the entirety of his body. When it faded, Felwinter's clothing had changed. He was armored in black dragonbone, lined with golden accents that gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Moth couldn't help the way his eyes flicked down to his hands, the gloves filed to sharp points. He had only ever told Moth that they had been for Mercer Frey. Nothing more than that.

With one last nod to both him and Lydia, Felwinter approached the bare wall at the side of the living room and pressed his hand against it. The visage of the wall began to shimmer and dance, like the surface of a calm lake. Felwinter's arm passed through it. He took a step forward and the rest of him followed. When he was through, the portal disappeared, the wall left solid once again.

"I'll be at Jorrvaskr, if I am needed," Lydia said. She pulled open the front door without waiting for his response and pulled it close again.

The fish had been put away and Moth found himself idle. He started for the stairs, climbed them and went into the bedroom, noting Felwinter's armor and sword missing from their rack against the wall. His eyes went straight to the last weapon on the rack. Felwinter's Lie, whose ebony frame drank what little light managed to strike it.

Moth took the axe by the handle and lifted it, feeling himself adjust to the heft. Immediately, he felt a strange sensation touch his mind. Magic reaching out for him, Felwinter had described it and indeed, it felt familiar. It felt like the wards placed over the cooking fire at the center of their living area. It felt like the runes drawn into the walls, keeping their home warm and secure. It felt like Felwinter. For that reason, when the magic reached him, Moth did as he was told to and reached back.

Moth took the axe outside, hailing Ulfberth at the front of his shop, speaking to the eldest Battle-Born son. He rounded his home and came to a stop at its back, a trio of dummies and targets placed up against the stone wall that surrounded the city.

Moth took a deep breath and squared himself. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled his arm back and launched the axe forward, sending it spinning through the air and burying itself in one of the targets, just above center.

The magic reached for him again. Just as Felwinter had taught him, Moth took hold of it and with nothing but a thought, he pulled. The axe ripped itself free of the wood and straw, spinning through the air the same way it went. The handle landed itself perfectly in the palm of Moth's hand, its size and weight practically unfelt when it struck his skin.

Moth breathed again. Felt the metal, felt the magic, took in the smell of thunderstorms that wafted off the blade and allowed himself a moment of longing.

But only a moment. He threw the axe again and caught the target, dead-center.

Clouds obscured the midday sun over Solitude. The weather was pleasant otherwise and seemed to be having similar effects on Felwinter's mood. He almost couldn't wait to see how Tullius or Elenwen would try to ruin it.

Jordis hadn't been home when Felwinter stepped through the portal, nor did he see her as he made his way to Castle Dour. She could have been in town, visiting with Saadia or Beirand. She could have been down by the docks, where she went fishing every now and then. Anything would have been better than letting what occurred on Solstheim stew in her mind. He'd need her again soon. Gregor, as well.

Felwinter entered the castle courtyard, maneuvering around groups of people training, Solitude guardsmen and Legionnaires alike made up those groups; running drills, sparring within makeshift rings or egging on those who were sparring. It was busy enough that Felwinter could move through mostly unnoticed. The few that did salute him, "Thane" or "Legate" punctuating every one.

Felwinter pushed through the door that would take him to the war room, feeling the sharp difference between the sun beating down on his head and the dimly lit, slightly damp interior of the fort.

Felwinter knew where he needed to be based on the two Legionnaires standing guard outside. A Redguard and a Nord, both doing their best not to fall asleep on their feet. Like the others, they saluted upon his arrival. Further down the hall was Hadvar, who Felwinter recognized instantly, despite the slight change in appearance. His hair had grown longer since the last time they had spoken and was held back by a thin strip of rope. His armor seemed recently polished and his hand rested upon the pommel of a new sword, a reward for his distinguished service in the war. Felwinter had been given one as well, as was customary. He had sold it to Beirand within the same week.

Hadvar's head perked up at the sound of his steps. When he turned, his eyebrows jumped half-off his head. "Felwinter…"

"Hadvar." He regarded him for only a second before turning his eyes to the door. "They in there?"

He looked at the door. "Aye. The Thalmor as well. And the Q-I mean, Jarl." His eyes turned back to Felwinter. "You're expected?"

"Why else would I be anywhere near here?" Felwinter stepped around Hadvar and pushed the door open without knocking. All heads raised towards him, a mixture of irritated and surprised expressions. General Tullius stood at the head of the room, a map spread out on the long table before him and Legate Rikke at his side, leaning over the same map. Off to the side stood Elenwen and two of her Justiciars, distant but close enough. Jarl Elisif was in a chair off against the wall, her towering housecarl at her side, leaning forward and having to crane her neck to get a slight view of the map.

The sound of Felwinter closing the door rang across the room. Tullius straightened out, resting his hands on his sword. "You're late."

"I could be later."

"Legate Drakon. I sent people to retrieve you in Whiterun," Elenwen said, hands behind her back and her pointed chin practically craned. "You weren't there."

Felwinter didn't bother looking at her. His eyes were on the map, the cluster of blue markers especially.

"Where were you?" she demanded.

"Not there." Felwinter rounded the table, reading the map as he did.

"Your glibness does nothing for you, Redguard," one of the Justiciars snapped. A Mer with an air of arrogance about him that was almost palpable. No different from any other Thalmor Felwinter had been forced to interact with. He nearly laughed. "The situation you were needed for was bad when we first discovered it and it's only worsened in your absence."

"Then I suggest we get on with this, so I can fix your problems for you. Again." Felwinter paused before Elisif to give a proper bow. She returned his greeting with a small and strained smile that did not reach her eyes. Felwinter returned his attention to the map. He gestured to the group of blues, all clustered just south of Windhelm. "What's all this?"

"A gathering of Stormcloak remnants," Rikke explained. "We have intel that they plan to move in and try to take Windhelm back from the Legion."

"Their main force is broken and they have no more leaders of significant rank," Felwinter said, "But the fact that you're calling on me says you're still worried they might succeed."

"Regardless, my sources indicate they have the numbers, the equipment and as far as Windhelm is concerned, the element of surprise." Elenwen drew only a single step closer to the big table.

"Your sources?"

"Hardly your concern."

"Why not send a force ahead?" Elisif's soft voice cut through the noise, earning some eyes. Elenwen doesn't even acknowledge her.

"Any group large enough to take on the problem wouldn't get there in time," Tullius impatiently explained, speaking as if to a small child. "And if they're seen, the rebels could just scatter and regroup."

To the others in the room, he said, "As far as Skyrim and the Empire are concerned, the civil war is over. We need to show them that this is true. This needs to be taken care of, quick and decisive." He looked at Felwinter, green eyes boring into brown. "We need your dragons."

"Absolutely not."

"A letter to Jarl Brunwulf, perhaps?" Elisif tried.

"Again, they'd see the retaliation coming a mile away." His eyes never left Felwinter's. "This is serious."

"I do not care."

"If you had come earlier, it wouldn't have come this." Tullus' voice was beginning to rise, "Now it has."

"I do not care," Felwinter let a threatening edge enter his tone. "They are not your attack dogs and neither am I." He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You want my help? Then, from this point, I control the operation." He didn't bother waiting on their argument before he turned to Elenwen. "Your sources. They have exact numbers?"

"No. My scouts can get them, however."

"Do that." Her eyes narrowed at the command. The Justiciar from before began to redden. "I'll also need mages. How many can the two of you offer?"

"I can have fifty mobilized within the week."

"The Thalmor are willing to lend you twenty."

Felwinter's jaw worked. "Seventy? Against a force large enough to take a city?" He shook his head. "Fine."

He moved back over to the map and pointed. "Split them into small groups and have them all take different routes to Eastmarch. We'll converge south of the enemy camp, within the deeper sections of the forest next to the geysers."

To Elenwen, he said, "Your scours. I need accurate numbers on the enemy camp. Numbers and composition."

She arched an eyebrow. "Composition?"

"How many are able-bodied and capable of fighting, how many are camp workers, how many are infirm, old, young. Can they manage that?"

Elenwen turned slightly to the Justiciar that had spoken before and still appeared to be struggling to hold his tongue. He glowered at Felwinter in silence for some time. Then, he nodded and said, "You'll have them."

Felwinter straightened up, holding the Altmer's eyes. Then, he began to approach the Justiciar, footfalls like thunder in the quiet room. "And I mean, exact composition." Felwinter drew in close. They were of the same height but Felwinter was twice as broad. "A single inaccuracy and I'm giving you to my dragons." His voice lowered into something both deep and booming. "Maybe when they're done with you, they'll eat you after. Assuming you're still good enough to eat."

The Altmer's jaw flexed beneath his skin but he remained silent, bearing Felwinter's scrutiny well enough. Felwitner stepped away and began to leave the war room without a word to anyone there.

Except for Jarl Elisif, whom he paused before again. She had stopped speaking, stopped trying to contribute. Felwinter offered her his hand. "My lady, may I escort you back to the Blue Palace? Our work here is done."

She took his hand with another strained smile and a nod, standing. Felwinter curled his arm and allowed her to rest her hand in the curve of his. He led her out of the war room, her housecarl behind, Hadvar and the Legionnaires guarding the front bowing deeply upon her approach.

Elenwen watched as the door closed behind them again. "I have never met a human with that kind of nerve," she said, "I'm almost surprised they're even house-trained in Hammerfell."

Tullius' eyes remain pointedly upon his map. "Felwinter is from High Rock. His mother is Breton."

"Ah. A mongrel born to a race of mongrels. That explains everything." She walked over to Elisif's empty chair and lowered herself into it. Legate Rikke kept her scowling eyes aimed at the wall.

"I just asked him for a dragon to thwart an attack I know nothing about on the basis of your source's word and nothing else," Tullius started.

"My source's word, and therefore mine, are all you need, General."

"My people haven't been able to independently verify this information. I don't know a thing about what I'm sending my men into."

"I did not rise to the position I have by being so lax with resources at my disposal, Tullius. I have no use or will to see your men thrown to your death and the Thalmor have every interest in seeing this war brought to its ultimate conclusion." She rose smoothly back to her feet. "These same sources have provided intel that has won you battles in the past. Do not doubt them now."

She looked to her subordinates and nodded towards the door. Immediately, they went for it and made their exit, Elenwen close behind.

"She knows how to dodge a question. I'll give her that." Rikke's burning gaze was still on the door, left open by the Thalmor.

Tullius rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his age in the sag of his shoulders for only part of a second. "As long as this ends."

"Felwinter…" Elisif nodded politely to another commoner bowing at her approach. "That Thalmor, would you really feed him to a dragon?"

Felwinter continued to lead her through the streets of Solitude. "I don't make idle threats, my lady. And…" He sighed inwardly as he remembered his mother's words. Words she learned from her father. "Few tools are as effective as terror." He shrugged. "I hope I don't have to. I regret reminding the red one just how much he enjoys mortal flesh."

Elisif gave a small laugh, despite the blackness of the joke. The palace was in sight now as they walked past Proudspire. "I was surprised to find you there, my Jarl," Felwinter said, "I never expect you at these kinds of meetings."

Her amusement faded. "The Moot fast approaches and the crown is coming to me. I…I felt that I should start."

"That is fair reasoning," he replied. Inwardly, he thought it was good for her to be aware of where the true power of Solitude lay.

"From our previous conversations, Thane, you seemed rather disdainful of the military. But you seem to have a mind for these things. I honestly can't imagine what your tactics are with seventy mages."

"Strategy, my lady. Strategy is long-term. You use tactics step-by-step to achieve an overall strategy."

Elisif blinked. "Ah. I never realized there was a difference. Where did you learn?"

"My mother taught me."

"Are all noble ladies taught such things back in High Rock?"

"Heirs to households are. Especially within my family, who are known for our battlemages and knights. Quite a number of 'Ser Drakon's' in my line."

"I see. But not you?"

"No. I left before I was of age. My grandmother and…grandfather, they were the last ones."

Elisif sighed. Her gaze crawled upwards as they stepped into the Blue Palace's shadow. "I regret my own sheltered upbringing on days such as this. I was raised to be a lady. A wife. Eventually, even a mother. But now, a crown has been thrown into my lap," she said, "Not because it was promised to me. Not because I've done anything to earn it or be worthy of it but because there is no one left."

It was hard to not feel the bitterness and grief in her voice. "Whatever this is, Felwinter, I pray for your quick success. I…have to learn. And if I'm going to do so, I'd rather it be in a time of peace."

The neutral and gentle look on Felwinter's face nearly fell off. He swallowed and smiled. "I will try my best, Jarl Elisif. You have my word."

They came to a stop before the entrance. Felwinter loosened his arm and allowed Elisif to extract her own. The men guarding the door bowed quickly and pushed them open for her to enter, her housecarl right behind, having kept a respectful distance since their departure from Castle Dour.

Felwinter remained at the door after it had been closed for a few seconds more before turning on his heel and proceeding back the way he came.

"Ah! My Jarl!" Erikur, who had been deep in conversation with Falk, turned his attention onto her as soon as he noticed her coming up the stairs. He pulled away from the steward and approached, his face brightened into a brilliant smile. Everything about him, from the razor-smooth shave of his face to his polished boots and glimmering jewelry, was well put-together. "Glad to have you back."

Falk was less outwardly enthused but still approached her in greeting. "How…how did it go?" He asked, seemingly expecting bad news.

Elisif was ashamed not to disappoint. "Not well. Everything I had to say sounded as if coming from the mouth of a child." She took a deep breath. "I wish to learn," she told her steward.

Before Falk could speak, Erikur jostled his way between him and Bolgier, placing himself directly before her. "With all due respect, my Jarl, you are no general. You have no need for such knowledge. That is what advisors are for." He gestured to himself and only to himself. Bolgier resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Perhaps. Though, Thane Erikur, I do want to thank you for your insight into estimates of enemy numbers. It was small but General Tullius seemed to find it valuable."

Erikur's warm smile remained constant. He took a step closer, one foot resting at the foot of the throne. "Nothing but an educated guess. A shipment of weapons and provisions meant for Windhelm's Jarl had been lost in that region. I just put the clues together."

"Either way, I thank you and will see that you are properly compensated for your losses."

The smile widened even further. "Your generosity is boundless, my lady. Tell me, will we still be meeting for tea later this afternoon?"

"Of course, Thane." She nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."