Little past the official day, but still a gift all the same eh? Merry post-Christmas to all! -
The Whiterun doors closed behind them; Lydia and the Praefect made their way down the winding dirt path. Along their way a number of guardsmen standing and moving about on top of the walls could be seen. Some of them simply went about their business but a few of them passively greeted her as she went on her way.
She and the Praefect passed through underneath the final archway at the very end of the winding walkway. Upon emerging, the fenced stables could be seen on the left side. She could see a pair of figures standing directly outside shuffling about and tending to the pair of horses.
"Housecarl Lydia," the nearby Skulvar Sable-Hilt suddenly turned his head and noticed her, "Say, is it true these rumors I'd been hearing? Something's about to happen to Whiterun?"
"Yes, it's all true, Skulvar," Lydia replied, "Stormcloaks are poised to attack Whiterun very soon."
"Blast it all, I'd thought there was some reason why the local wildlife out there was seemingly scared off," the male Nord grumbled. He picked up a nearby bridle and began to wind it up upon his arm, "Well, don't worry; my boy and I will hold down the stables and keep our steeds safe. Won't we boy?"
"Um, yeah, sure," the nearby Jervar briefly turned his head from the mare he was brushing down and shrugged.
"All the same, Skulvar, you and Jervar be careful," Lydia said, "Don't do anything to put yourselves at further risk; stay safe." With that she continued to walk past the stables and on her way.
By now the sun had risen to its highest point in the sky. Lydia could feel herself being bathed in the warmth and brilliance of this midday. This was strangely shaping up to be a good day weather-wise; if not for the fact that something big was about to take place she might actually find time to take one of those 'lazy day relaxes' that she used to take in the past.
A glance out towards the vast landscape of Whiterun Hold confirmed something previously mentioned. Skulvar had mentioned that the local wildlife was scared off recently. She scanned the rolling olive green plains of contained within the towering, white-tipped mountains that provided a natural perimeter. True enough, where once she'd see the occasional elk herd or even a lone sabrecat perched on one of the rocks, there was scarcely a creature to be seen. She couldn't recall a time in the past she'd seen these plains so empty. Animals most likely had a better sense of ominous times approaching than sentient beings like her for them to be gone already...
As the two walked onwards in the distance before them a stone tower could be seen. The Western Watchtower... Memories of a time that felt like ages ago filled Lydia's mind once more. The very place that pretty much changed her life by pitting her against a dragon. She could still remember vividly both the scaly hide of the massive creature, as well as the massive skeleton that remained after Siffre had absorbed its soul.
However, with the two having walked even closer and the tower was now in much closer view, Lydia could in fact see that the skeleton that had once laid upon the ground was gone. Perhaps that made sense, as the last time she'd seen that was when she and her thane were on their way to Ivarstead and the guardsmen were 'disassembling' it. She could only guess that they had completely taken it apart by this point; how had she not had a chance to inquire about this earlier when they'd met with the Jarl?
The thought of dragons brought to mind another thought: what if another dragon were to attack during such a time as this? Would she, the Imperials, or heck the Stormcloaks be prepared? She would like to admit that she felt a little more confident in at least facing them down should that ever happen, but in light of some dragons being able to raise others from the ground, there might be cause to at least reconsider. Who knew what more those terrors were capable of doing...
They passed by the Western Watchtower completely by now; a couple of guardsmen stationed around it briefly regarded her as she walked. They must be different ones from the previous guards that had been patrolling there earlier.
'I hope Hergi's legs have healed by now too,' she thought.
Looking forward again the expanse of the vast plains in Whiterun Hold stretched out before them once again. Of course, another great landmark stood out in the distance as well: Fort Greymoor itself.
The fort stood about a few hundred feet from their current position. Even from this distance it was clear to see that the walls surrounding its courtyard and keep were vast and tall. Beyond that, Lydia had to admit that among all the locations she'd occasionally been dispatched to in Jarl Balgruuf's name, this place was not among them.
Movement along the outer perimeter of the fort could be seen. Lydia saw a small number of bodies walking along and outside the fort's walls, the barest glimmer of the sun shining off of their armor. Imperial soldiers, in all their regal and red-garbed glory. Some were walking, some appeared to be practicing weapon swings, while others were standing next to large wooden constructs located outside of the fort.
"Ah good, those siege weapons we'd commissioned have finally been made," Praefect Turelus could be heard. Lydia in turn squinted her eyes as she focused in. Sure enough, these large wooden constructs in fact appeared to be catapults!
"Catapults?" she found herself saying, "You managed to bring catapults?"
"Can never be too careful," the Praefect replied.
A few more minutes of walking and the two finally found themselves before Fort Greymoor. Standing before the massive walls, Lydia couldn't help but subconsciously draw comparisons of these walls to that of Whiterun's. There were even a couple of soldiers standing atop them looking down towards them, just as Whiterun guards did at the city.
She could also hear the sounds of what sounded like fighting and grunts coming from within at the city's courtyard. Following the Praefect, she and him navigated around the wooden spiked barricades and up the inclining walkway into the fort's embrace.
Lydia now stood within a massive keep, the fort's walls stretching out and around in almost a circle. Everywhere she could see was either ancient, weathered stone, or a moving Imperial soldier doing something or other. The sounds of sparring and grunts that were heard were from nearby groups that were in fact sparring with each other, a commanding officer standing close by and overseeing their combat. There was even a roofed section off to the side where a forge, workbench, and grindstone were seen. A man was tending the forge dressed in a large black apron. He wasn't dressed as the other Imperials around him, yet there was no denying that he was definitely part of the Imperial army as well.
"Praefect! Report!" a voice suddenly rang out. Both Lydia and Turelus turned to face the newcomer: a soldier dressed from head to foot in shining Imperial armor with patches of red cloth sewn in here and there. Even the majority of this woman's head was covered with a gleaming helmet, yet her face was open and exposed and allowed for her stern face to be shown through.
The moment this woman appeared the Praefect instantly stood at attention with his back straightened, his arms at his sides, and his feet right next to each other.
"Legate! The mission was a success: the Jarl of Whiterun, Balgruuf, has agreed to the Legion utilizing this fort for the immediate threat."
"Excellent work, soldier; I knew I could count on you," the higher-ranked woman, 'Legate', replied, "Rejoin your group and await further instructions."
"Ma'am," the Praefect placed a single fist over his chest once and proceeded to walk inwards through the courtyard on his own. At this point the other woman turned to regard her.
"Judging from the Whiterun symbol on your shield, I'm guessing you're a member of the Jarl's court?"
"Huh? Oh, of course," Lydia said after briefly glancing down at the shield she held in hand to remind her, "I am Housecarl Lydia Volrune, sent by Jarl Balgruuf the Greater to act his authority during these... upcoming events?"
"The housecarl?" the officer's eyes widened momentarily, "Then, allow me to be the first to welcome you to Fort Greymoor. I am Legate Rikke, the highest-ranking officer and commander of the Imperial troops stationed here." She swiftly held out her hand before the Nord, the intent clear. Lydia took hold of her arm in a handshake as well. It was during this particular moment of shaking hands that Lydia was made aware of the firmness of the hand she gripped and was gripping her own. She knew that feeling of callused hands anywhere. One more glance at the woman's face, and her unasked question had already been answered: this woman was indeed a Nord.
"In fact, perhaps it's best if you make your presence known to the men as well; follow me."
Lydia was completely caught off guard by this sudden request. She watched as Legate Rikke quickly turned around and made her way towards one of the constructed wooden ladder and walkways next to the main entrance. As she rounded its corner her head glanced back to her, and a motion was made for her to follow. Lydia hastily followed after, though was still slightly confused as to what was happening.
She followed after the Legate as the two made their way up the wooden walkway and onto the actual stone of the fort's outer walls. They now stood upon the entrance's archway that overlooked the larger courtyard, where they could see in clarity the soldiers that were still moving about and sparring within.
"Attention troops! All hands report in the courtyard! Move it!" Rikke's voice practically rang out. Almost immediately the troops ceased their actions and began to fall into position. Even a couple of soldiers could be seen emerging from the nearby doors of the fort as well. In no time at all they stood at attention in perfect symmetrical lines, every one of them staring up towards Lydia and Legate Rikke.
Lydia had to admit, these troops were incredibly well-trained. The Whiterun were clunky at best, rowdy at worst, yet still managed to carry themselves as professional before their betters.
"An important update for you all: a member of the Jarl's own court has arrived," Legate Rikke announced as she indicated to the woman next to her. She then turned to look towards her, "Was there anything to be made known to the troops at this time?"
"Oh, well..." Lydia said. She stared out into the courtyard filled with the many troops. She was made aware of just how many eyes were upon her in this moment. They were expecting something from her? What exactly was she to say?
"My name is Lydia..."
"You should speak a little louder," Legate Rikke advised.
"O-oh, right!" the Nord flushed a little with embarrassment. She shook her head and cleared her throat to steady herself, then began to speak with a louder tone this time, "Lydia Volrune, I am a housecarl to Balgruuf the Greater, the Jarl of Whiterun."
She paused in her speech momentarily, for in that moment she suddenly found herself at a loss for what to say next. This was a group of completely new and different people standing before her whom she knew nothing about. Not a single face of any of these soldiers bore any sort of familiarity with her; all were just Imperial soldiers, sent forth from Solitude to... defend Whiterun...
Her gaze slowly drifted to the side to see the city in question out in the distance. Whiterun could be seen standing high upon its natural hill overlooking the flat of the land. The city that she grew up in, that she called home... that her thane was in.
That's right! Siffre was there, defending her home from within its walls! The same could be said for Irileth, Hrongar, Captain Caius, heck even Illia! All of them were doing their part to protect Whiterun as best they could!
Lydia felt her feeling of self-consciousness melt away practically instantly. It was crazy how such little things as that were all she needed to remind her of what were truly important. Looking back down at the troops in the courtyard, she steeled herself and spoke again.
"I'm here to defend my city, my home, of Whiterun," she spoke, "I may not be fighting 'within' its walls, but I'm not gonna fight any less than my fellow guardsmen who are actually there themselves! Jarl Balgruuf the Greater... he's counting on me to do all I can. Myself, his guardsmen, his... thanes... even all of you as well!" A single finger pointed out towards the assembled troops accented her point, "We all have a job here! Whiterun will be protected! So long as I'm still breathing, that's exactly what I plan to do!" Her improvised motivation speech finished, Lydia found herself panting slightly. That took a surprising great deal of breath out of her. She swore she could almost feel how Siffre felt sometimes...
"From the mouth of the Jarl's own to your very ears!" Legate Rikke chimed in, "Each one of you knows the task you are assigned with! You will show those Stormcloaks the true might of the Empire like the true Legion soldiers you claim to be! Is that understood?!"
"YES MA'AM!" a unified voice of the entire assembled body rang out.
"Then resume to your duties; we've got a battle to win! Dismissed!" Legate Rikke announced. With that the assembled soldiers dispersed and made their way back to their individual tasks they were performing.
"Fine speech," Rikke addressed her with a nod, "Now then, since you're here defending this fort, perhaps it'd be best you be given a quick tour of this place." With a quick motion of her hand, she indicated for Lydia to follow her as she proceeded down the wooden catwalk again.
"Has this place already been explored, as it were?" Lydia asked.
"The fort has large enough rooms for housing a small troop of soldiers," Rikke replied, "Here, let me show you..."
"And... there," Siffre grunted as she forced the piece of wood into place. She took a step back to view her work; the last piece of the wooden spiked barricade was fixed in place, which meant this entire piece itself was completed.
"My thanks, Dragonborn," the guardsman helping her said with a nod, "Now let's just get it in position. You take that side-?"
"Got it..."
Siffre reached down to carefully lift the entire barricade up from her side. Together she and the guardsman easily moved the entire wooden construct and settled it into place with the others.
Work had been well underway this entire time to create man-made barricades positioned along the exterior gates to Whiterun. The primary focus was to have them fixed at the very entry points of the city, namely the first archway along the slanted walkway and the drawbridge door. It of course went without saying that the drawbridge would be remaining pulled during the course of the attack, but for the time being it was lowered while preparations were still in progress.
With the barricade that Siffre and the guardsman had just set into place, the number increased now to at least six wooden spiked barricades that now covered the outer entrance to the city. There was no way any invading Stormcloak would be able to just 'walk' into the city at this rate.
All around a number of fellow guardsmen could be seen doing various things. Some were chopping and carving wood to create more barricades, a few patrolled along the top-most wall of Whiterun's walls, and some nearby were even being directed by Irileth in monitored sparring. This was only about half of Whiterun's total guard strength as the other half were remaining inside the city's walls to protect from within. Was that confidence she was feeling inside? Siffre would certainly like to hope so.
"Looks like... we've done all we can do, haven't we?" she asked.
"Not to worry, Thane; come dragon, giant, or even Stormcloaks, we'll be ready," the guardsman replied, "We've got plenty of barricades in place, with more on the way if needed," the guardsmen replied.
"That's good... and I guess we're all ready to fight as well."
"And let's not forget the drawbridge, just up there..." the guard pointed out in the general direction through the wall they stood next to, "We'll have it pulled up well before any Stormcloak can even get close. We won't be letting them get in that way."
Siffre indeed knew exactly the drawbridge being referred to. She had crossed over it a number of times before now from having entered and exited the city on different occasions. For some reason, with the fact that it had always been down, it hardly occurred to her that it could very well be raised. It had always felt like a 'permanent' wooden walkway over the small running stream beneath the stone walls.
In fact, as Siffre found herself stepping to the side for a better view, she could see over the exterior Whiterun walls an upper balcony. The very top edge of a large wheel could be seen as well as another guard, his head turned to the side as if he were conversing with someone else up there. Looks like that drawbridge mentioned operated on a crank system; that was good to know.
Siffer brought her head back down to see that the guard she was with had chosen this time to separate from her. He had left to aid a fellow guardsman in constructing another wooden barricade. The Dragonborn herself remained standing where she stood, taking in this moment as well as a couple deep breaths.
'I know I said I would defend this city, but...' she thought to herself, 'What am I actually doing?'
Thoughts drifted back to many moons ago, when she was in a different time, a different, place, indeed a different role entirely. Their tight-knit gang hardly held such defenses of their group themselves, least of all for noble reasons either. The most that they ever mobilized for anything was quick raids on unsuspecting travelers. In and out, no witnesses, and gone with as little trace as they could manage. It wasn't the easiest life, but it was a relatively simple life. Of course, back then Siffre couldn't talk at all, instead leaving that to the other members like...
She shook her head to dispel those lingering feelings. That was all the past, a past that she would not go back to nor would want to. She was here now and was also a more important person than what she once was.
Glancing off to the side, amidst the unfamiliar guardsmen doing various things, she caught sight of Illia. She was standing beside to the Whiterun wall itself by herself and in front of a sort of stone structure roughly her own height. The fingertips on one of her hands was glowing, except an orange glow as opposed to the usual light blue she'd seen them glow. If Siffre had to venture a guess, the mage was likely doing something spell-related with that 'stone dummy' in front of her.
A quick glance around told her no one else was requesting her presence, so she made her way over to her friend.
"Illia," she gently greeted. The mage turned to regard her.
"Oh, hey Siffre," Illia said.
"You... casting spells there?" Siffre asked. She and the mage turned back down to see Illia's right hand. The outstretched fingers each held a glow of brilliant orange to them, coalescing in the very center of her palm.
"That's right, I was just practicing this fireball spell I had learned from Farengar," she explained.
"A fire-ball spell?" Siffre questioned, "Surprising they're letting you use something like that."
"Well, the guardsman said Destruction magic would be fine, so long as I don't 'burn down any buildings'," Illia replied, "Not that I was planning to anyway... Besides, this stone 'dummy' here I think would be better to practice on."
She turned back up to the stone 'dummy', which was nothing more than a set of bricks that seemed to function as that of a guidepost. Any trace of wood that would have served this purpose however had clearly rotted away, leaving the stone and brick. Illia's fingers flexed and her hand cocked back close to her head, all the while the orange-colored energy glowed ever brighter.
The mage then thrust her hand forward as if she were 'pushing' something. In a sense she was, as the energy that was building in her hand manifested in the form of a bright, albeit small, ball of flame. The fireball flew forward and impacted against the stone stand with an audible thud. The fire's 'splash' of flame broke into many pieces and onto the dry ground, but aside from that there was no fire to be spread from this spell.
"I did it!" Illia said, the same hand that cast the fireball spell clenching into a fist in a victorious pose.
"You did," Siffre said with a nod.
"So that's really what it's like to cast a spell of another element, is it?" Illia said, glancing down at her hand again, "Maybe it could've been a little bigger though... Still, I'm quite amazed with myself."
"What's it like? Casting spells like that?" Siffre asked seemingly out of nowhere.
"What's it like?" Illia said, "I guess it's like... well, as you know there are people who are simply 'born' with the ability to cast magic. And apparently it 'feels' different for everyone. I've been used to casting ice spells like Ice Spike for a long time that I've pretty much gotten used to the feeling. But now, having cast something different like a Fireball?" She flexed the fingers on her hand again, "It sort of felt like gripping a hot mug of some steaming liquid in my hand, while not actually touching it at all. Casting ice spells I suppose would be like a piece of ice, like a ball of snow, held within my palm just out of contact with my skin. Does that make sense?" She in the process of explaining held up both of her hands open-ended before the two of them.
"I think it does..." Siffre said. Her eyes glanced down to Illia's opposite hand; the one still wrapped in bandages all the way up to her shoulder, "And can you cast your spells with that bandage still on?" Her comment caused Illia to look back down at her left side again.
"Oh! By Juliannos, I'd almost forgotten about these bandages...!" she said, "Dravynea said I shouldn't cast with them on this hand, but... it has been a while, hasn't it?"
With that she held up the bandaged hand in the same way she held up her right hand and concentrated. As before a small amount of lighted energy began to gather in its palm between her fingers. Unlike before however this came much slower and in less concentration. Even Illia's features scrunched hard as she appeared to be focusing as intensely as she could.
"Come on..." she muttered. Eventually the amount of energy and light coalescing within her fingers, albeit in smaller concentration compared to her right hand. Finally, she thrust out her hand to release the built-up elemental energy in the form of a fireball.
The two women watched the fireball, no bigger than a tiny pebble fly out and also strike the stone stand. Unlike before however there was no 'splash' of fire from the impact; the fireball simply impacted against the brick and fizzled away, barely leaving behind any scorch marks.
"Oh, blast it...! I was concentrating really hard, but..." Illia muttered before letting her bandaged arm back down at her side, "My hand is still really sore, even after all this time. Maybe that's what's interfering with my left hand's spellcasting..."
"Pain?" Siffre said with a tilt of her head, "If that's all it is then just give it time to heal. wounds heal, even burns..."
"But, what about the Stormcloaks?" Illia asked, " I've only got one hand I can cast decent magic with! Will that be enough?"
"It may have to be..." Siffre said.
Illia opened her mouth as if to say something but pursed her lips again. She simply shrugged her shoulders in response, instead once again cocking her good hand back to conjure another Fireball and 'throw' it at the brick target. The difference in spells casted by either arm was as clear as night and day; her right arm was still perfect at spellcasting, at least as best as Siffre, a non-mage, could tell.
"Ah, Dragonborn," a voice suddenly called out. Siffre and Illia's attention turned behind them to see who had called out to her. The man they'd come to recognize as Balgruuf's brother, Hrongar, was approaching them, "I was hoping I'd find you."
"Oh, you're... Hrongar?" Siffre said, "Did you need something?"
"Actually, as I see you and your Imperial friend here must be practicing for the battle ahead, perhaps you might indulge me in joining you?" the burly Nord crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk gracing his previously stoic features, "After all, seems I'm no longer the only one that uses a great sword; would be nice to practice against another one." Siffre glanced over her shoulder back to Illia. The mage simply gave a shrug of her shoulders and turned back to concentrating magic in her good hand.
"Alright, sure..." Siffre agreed.
"Excellent," the Jarl's brother said, before beginning to reach around and remove the large sword from his back.
"W-wait, you wanted to spar here? And now...?" Siffre's eyes narrowed in mild confusion.
"Why not? Right here has plenty of space and is right in the shade!" Hrongar replied simply as he fully unsheathed his great sword. It was true, where the sun was in the sky right now cast a significant amount of shade from the Whiterun walls over everyone. Siffre shrugged; there was hardly anything for her to do at the moment. And when was the last time she'd drawn her blade for, well, anything really?
She reached behind her and drew forth her steel great sword. Instinctively she sized up her opponent- or rather, the one whom she'd be sparring with. Hrongar was dressed in what appeared to be studded leather armor with the fur of some horned creature adorning his left shoulder. It was very familiar to that of that one Nord from Windhelm; the one who had chased off bullies that had threatened Illia. The man's physique more than made up for the thin appearance of his armor. The muscles on his arms bulged visibly, yet Siffre wasn't certain the man was even flexing that hard. He just gripped his iron great sword in his hands, legs spread apart in combat stance, just as she was.
Then, Hrongar made the first move. He brought his blade forward into a diagonal slash towards Siffre. The Dragonborn just as quickly turned her own blade to deflect the oncoming attack. A clang of metal scraping on metal rang out through the yard, as well as a tiny set of sparks from the impact.
The two receded after their strike, but Siffre maintained her stance. In addition to the sheer strength, she merely viewed on this man, she could positively 'feel' it through the blow of his blade against hers. In fact, it somewhat surprised her how much she had to put into her arms to keep from being overpowered.
The Jarl's brother proceeded to strike at her with his blade again. Strike after strike, parry after parry, the area filled with the sounds of metal striking metal. And each time Siffre could feel her own arms being stressed upon from her spar opponent.
'This man really is as strong as he appears...' she thought to herself, 'I honestly didn't think anyone could match the strength of-'
Hrongar suddenly changed his tactics by thrusting his blade tip forward. Siffre was forced to act quickly and parry the blade while angling her body to the side.
The two regained their stance before each other. However, the face that Siffre saw upon Hrongar's face was not one she was expecting. The man was grinning at her, somewhat admirably.
"Very impressive," he said, "Though I should hardly expect any less from the Dragonborn."
"Yeah... you're pretty strong too..." Siffre conceded. There wasn't any falsehood to that; this man was really starting to remind her to not underestimate the potential strength of an opponent. She may have gone so long without a great-sword in both hands, but had she truly been out of practice this entire time?
Siffre chose to seize the opportunity this time and go on the offensive herself. The Dragonborn launched a barrage of long-arc swings in quick succession similar to what the man had been doing. She put a bit of extra power into the force of her swings, but Hrothgar deflected her own strikes just as she herself had done. Sparks flew with every parried blade strike; Siffre was certain that none of her attacks were even close to weakening his own defense.
With each deflected strike Siffre felt a strange sense of frustration building within her. Why did it feel like her attacks were being deflected so easily? The strength of her slashes clearly wasn't enough; she was hoping for his defense to have been worn down by now from how hard she was attacking. Every glance towards Hrongar and his muscled arms didn't reassure her either.
Finally, Siffre took a chance at an attempt at a strike from overhead. Hrongar held his own great-sword horizontally above his head, a clear move to parry her blade from this angle.
Then suddenly, at the last possible moment, he side-stepped out of the way, leaving Siffre wide open while in the middle of her downward slash. As a result, she found herself stumbling forward from the unexpected weight being shifted forward. Only to add to her embarrassment she actually tumbled onto the very ground.
"Whoa! Siffre!" she could hear Illia call out from behind, "Are you alright...?"
The Dragonborn grit her teeth as she struggled to pull herself upright while on the ground. What was going on? What was this feeling going through her from something like this? She had a great-sword in her hands again; she had to being better than this, shouldn't she?
Siffre glanced up at him looking down at her. For a brief moment she expected his face to be that of condescension as what her mind had painted. After all, who wouldn't feel that way after she had just stumbled in such a clumsy way?
Thus, her eyes only narrowed in confusion to find him not looking at him with such smugness but was instead reaching a hand down towards her. His face was grinning, but it was more of a gentle grin, such as one would give to a friend when encouraging them.
She reached up to take his hand in hers and allow herself to be pulled upright.
"Urgh, thanks..." she muttered as she dusted herself off.
"Your skill with a great-sword is indeed impressive," Hrongar continued, "It is good to see that the Dragonborn is capable of such strength behind their attacks."
"Wait what? You're... impressed?" Siffre asked, to which the burlier Nord nodded.
"Been too long since I've sparred with someone that could match me in strength," he said, "I could see it in your eyes though; your eagerness to best someone could very well leave you wide open."
He paused in speaking; the moment of what happened to Siffre earlier was enough of a clear indicator. Siffre herself opened her mouth to say something, anything... But was unfortunately unable to. She intense feeling she'd felt earlier during the spar while slightly present had fizzled away considerably. She didn't normally feel like that; why did this time feel so important all of a sudden?
"I... I felt this urge to..." she spoke, "I don't know; like I wanted to win that fight."
"And I wouldn't have had you come at me with any less than that," Hrongar said, "It's why I'd advise you to keep that fighting spirit in due check. You are Dragonborn, but you're also a Nord. And a Nord keeps a good head on his shoulders at all times in battle."
"A good head?" Siffre said. After a moment of thought she shook her own head, "I-I nearly had that... I just, I wanna go again."
"Eager to try again? Very well," Hrongar conceded. He held his blade in both his hands, Siffre doing the same. This time she wouldn't let anything get the better of her.
Siffre wasted no time in resuming her offense. A swipe to the left side and a swipe to the right with two clangs of metal squealing on metal filled the air. As before though the attacks were easily deflected, seemingly with little effort by her opponent. He even seemed to 'flex' his arms in a sort of motion that 'pushed' her blade away from him. She could only frown and clench her teeth as a result.
In the midst of her own offense Hrongar suddenly broke from deflecting to put in a strike of his own. Siffre hastily moved to angle her blade up and deflect the strike away from her. To her mild surprise the blade of her opponent being directed off its course appeared to leave him open! This was it- her chance to win!
As her own blade was angled in such a way to not get the proper counterstrike in herself, Siffre quickly opted for a different tactic. She quickly thrust her upper body forward to bash her shoulder into the man's center mass. She threw as much of her entire weight into her shoulder with her back leg supporting her as an anchor.
There was a momentary sound of grunting from Hrongar this time. As a result of his own feet being too parallel and leaving him off-balance the burly Nord was left to tumble backward and crash onto the dirt ground. The iron great-sword clattered to the ground out of his grip.
Siffre huffed deep breaths, in spite of herself having succeeded in this little fight. During the moment with no extraneous effort on her muscles she began to feel the extent of the exertion; they felt burning even in this cool weather. Her hands remained gripped tightly on the hilt of her great-sword with the tip having been lowered down to barely touch the dirt. She herself looked down at Hrongar as she panted with him looking back up at her.
His eyes narrowed as he looked back up at her, yet the grin on his face and under his beard was clearly seen. If the man was the slightest bit upset by having been downed just now, he was not sore about it at all.
"Ha! A worthy finish!" he exclaimed to Siffre's mild surprise. He proceeded to raise his hand out to help him up. The Dragonborn was momentarily broken from her hesitation and pulled him to his feet again.
"I beat you that time," she said.
"That you did; even my own brother has only managed to best me in past spars only a couple of times," Hrongar conceded, "This city is damn lucky to have you fighting for it, Dragonborn."
"Ah, thanks..." Siffre said, "And... also thanks, for that advice. About fighting 'smarter' or something?"
"Well, that's likely something brother would tell you," Hrongar admitted, "Still, he's not wrong: being strong will get you far, but being stronger in mind will get you farther."
Stronger in mind? As in being more focused and determined on what she needed to do? Admittedly that wasn't nearly as hard to understand as Siffre thought. Not too long ago she had trained to master the very Thu'um with the exercise of control. It was likely that every bit of training the Greybeards had put her through was a test of will. Thus, if she was able to master that, something like this would certainly be no problem.
Siffre nodded in affirmation to Hrongar. The burly Nord reached down to pick back up his dropped great-sword and sheathe it again on his back. He then proceeded to walk away and towards another group of Whiterun guardsmen near the wall, leaving Siffre and Illia alone once again.
"How... Siffre, I have to say, that amazing!" Illia said. Siffre turned to the mage.
"Huh? What was?"
"That whole 'sparring' thing you had with that Nord man!" the Imperial said, "He looked really strong, but you were just as strong as he was when you were swinging your sword like that!"
"Oh, thanks," Siffre said with a light flush. It wasn't very often that she received praise like that, if at all, "I just... I wanted to win that spar, you know? Not sure why I wasn't... I wasn't doing as well as I could've been."
"Well, that's not really something to be ashamed of, is it?" Illia offered, "I mean, now you know how you can be better, don't you?"
"But with the Stormcloaks coming..." Siffre said, "It feels like... I don't want to let anyone down because I wasn't good enough, you know?" Illia remained silent for a moment, her face suggesting she was in thought. Her eyes never left Siffre though and looked at her with clear understanding.
"I know exactly what you mean," she said while placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "And... if it makes you feel better, just know that... that I definitely will be here too. I'll stand with you and support you as best I can." Siffre looked back at Illia's earnest eyes and then nodded.
"And even though she's not here right now, I'm sure Lydia would be telling you something similar as well."
From Illia's comment Siffre recalled her housecarl. She turned to look out in the distance to where she had been called to aid in defending. The old fort looked rather small in the vast, rolling plains of Whiterun's hold, yet even from here she could see the tiniest of specks that must have been the soldiers stationed there. There was no way of knowing if any one of them she was looking at was Lydia of course. Neither did she know what or how exactly Lydia would be defending Whiterun from all the way over there. Still, if what she heard was to be believed, the Imperials that were already there had to have that covered somehow and through some means. Yeah, Lydia could handle herself... and she'd be fighting as best as she possibly could.
"You're right... yeah, you're right," Siffre nodded to herself before looking back at the mage.
"And let's not forget, you have that 'Voice' thing you can call upon!" Illia reminded her.
Siffre's eyes practically widened. Illia's comment hit her with the strength of Hrongar's blade; how could she have forgotten?!
"Oh my-! I can't believe it!" she had to forcibly contain the excitement in her voice. She rubbed her forehead as if to ward off the embarrassment, "I do have the Voice! And... and it could help out here! You're right, Illia."
"Exactly, see? There's no need to fret..." Illia said, "In fact, I was wondering... Do you think you could, um... show me that Voice of yours again?"
"Hm? You want me to Shout?"
"Yeah- or, I mean, that ice version of it anyway," Illia clarified, "I only saw it once and I thought it'd be good to at least, I dunno, compare the two with each other."
"Because you yourself cast ice magic as well?" Siffre deduced to which Illia nodded, "Well... alright, I suppose I could show it again..."
The Dragonborn looked to her side to view her immediate surroundings. While the number of guards around her were scattered to say the least while performing various preparatory tasks, it was better if there be no one directly before her if she were to do this. Her Thu'um was quite powerful; someone could get accidentally hurt if she were not careful.
She quickly spotted a place of land where no one was standing. The area was open and spacious with only a couple of leaf-less trees sprouting from the ground here and there. More importantly, not a soul could be seen that she might accidentally 'strike' with her Thu'um.
"There... I'll Shout at those trees right there," she pointed out. Illia turned to see the trees in question.
"Ah, alright... go for it."
Siffre steadied her stance and composed herself. A couple of deep breaths and her mind was clear. She knew what she needed to do and also how exactly to make it happen.
'Breath, and focus.'
She then opened her mouth and shouted,
"Fo-KRAH!"
Lydia heard it yet again. Even through the thick stone walls of the fort the all-too familiar sound of the Thu'um could be heard. This had to have been the third or fourth time she'd heard it this day alone. While standing outside the sound was much clearer, like the wind itself was carrying it directly to her. Whiterun could barely be seen in the distance during that time of day when the light was beginning to fade. The sound of Siffre using the Voice.
'Wait, she's not using it because Stormcloaks are already there, is she?' she suddenly thought. Just as quickly the thought was dismissed, 'No, not likely; we'd have heard something by now, wouldn't we? Even from all the way over here...'
Legate Rikke had given Lydia a quick tour of this old fort hours ago. She was somewhat surprised to find that despite this fort being old and weathered that most of its rooms managed to remain intact. They were numerous and rather spacious; the Imperials made use of all the rooms available, from extra storerooms to barracks to sleep in. Most of the old, rotten beds had been thrown out for some better ones, albeit Imperial beds that were little more than sleeping mats. Still, for now they'd have to do.
In fact, Lydia had underestimated the number of Imperials that had been stationed here. The amount that she'd seen initially upon arrival was only a small fraction. Legate Rikke showing her the inside of the fort showed her that the Imperials numbered at least fifty or even more within! They were dead set on not only appropriating this fort but staying in it!
Before she knew it the day had nearly passed, with the sun beginning its slow crawl closer and closer beneath the horizon. It would soon be nightfall and security would be high during this time with all that was to happen. She was informed before of the number of guards that would be patrolling the fort's walls even now. She supposed that was one less thing she would have to worry about.
For now, she was inside the fort and in the makeshift 'mess hall', or at least the closest a place for eating as one could be all things considered. Her company was about ten or so Imperial soldiers that were seated at various chairs and tables in this room as she was and all eating. Unfortunately, there was also little in the way of food variety what with game having been scared off; the most she and the others would be eating was quail and pheasant.
"Man, can't wait to kill another of Ulfric's boys," one of the soldiers could be heard. From the sound of his voice and from looking at him, he appeared to be just barely older than a teenager.
"I know what you mean," another one said, "Been so long since I've seen action my sword arm's getting flabby."
"With the training we were put through I'm surprised you'd let your arm get like that," said another. For the most part this was sounding like little more than small talk between the Imperial soldiers. Lydia simply proceeded to eat her quail breast in silence. That is, until...
"So, housecarl Lydia," a voice closer to her spoke up. Turning her head, she could see this soldier was seated at the same table as she was. His helmet was off, revealing his short brown hair and his equally brown eyes looking at her, "Have you heard those rumors lately?"
"Huh? What rumors?"
"Of the Dragonborn! They say one has appeared for the first time in centuries!"
Lydia wisely held her tongue and didn't immediately blurt anything out. So easy it would be to boast not only that she knew of the Dragonborn, but that she was direct party to her as her as a housecarl. However, revealing that information in light of what Siffre had informed her regarding her most recent past, especially regarding her encounters with the Imperial army, would probably be unwise. But still, what could she say in response?
"I've... guess I've heard a thing or two," she casually said, "Some of the guardsmen in Whiterun have spoken of this 'dragonborn'. Not sure how much of it is true though."
"I heard a Dragonborn is here in Skyrim!" the voice of another Imperial spoke up, "Heard some of the locals talking about a Dragonborn walking among them!"
"That wine getting to your head, Frilus? There couldn't possibly be a Dragonborn," another said, "Everybody knows that Martin Septim was the last of them, and that was decades ago."
"You think something a Dragonborn has something to do with these dragons I've heard about also?" someone spoke up. His comment earned him more than a few looks from his fellow soldiers, "I mean, it's right there in the word- 'dragon'..."
"That's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!"
"Yeah, and how are there even dragons at all? I've never even seen one in all the months I've been in this land!"
"If there even were dragons, I wish they'd breathe fire on all those Stormcloaks and have this war be done with already...!"
By now it was clear the conversation was devolving into senseless banter between the Imperials. Focus had gradually shifted away from Lydia and that initially posed question, which made her slightly more at ease. Not only did they not have anything solid on Siffre at this point, but it sounds like they weren't even planning to devote more thought into that consideration either. Lydia had to admit, at least these Imperials were not the prying type like the Stormcloaks were.
'They're well-disciplined in a fight too,' she thought.
She witnessed a few of them spar with each other in one of the fort's rooms made into a makeshift practice area. From what she saw they definitely conducted themselves with greater restraint than she'd see anyone do before. They were always quick and precise wit their blows and very rarely lost their cool. She couldn't tell herself from simply witnessing, but she would've preferred it if they put a little more strength into their swings.
Lydia took one last swig of her wine-filled mug. The tangy liquid went down and sent a pleasant feeling of warmth through her body. Maybe just one mug was enough for now; wouldn't help if she got 'too' fuzz-headed before the fighting was supposed to start. The pheasant was enough for her as well; it was bland, flavor-less, and could have used more seasoning, but she was still full enough from it. Maybe it made sense that Imperials on the move wouldn't have time to make 'fit-for-Jarl' meals.
She stood up from her table, gaining the attention and looks from a couple of the Imperials.
"Alright, I'm going to rest up for now," she announced. A few of them mumbled affirmation and words of good evening to her, "And again, you're all certain when they're supposed to arrive...?"
"Don't worry, housecarl, the rebels aren't due to arrive until much later, like tomorrow even," one of the Imperials said.
"And we've got scouts posted along the walls outside as well," another chimed in, "Any of them see anything, they'll sound the alarm." That was about the best that could be done at this point; Lydia nodded in response.
"Well, good night to you all," she said, then turned to exit the 'mess hall'.
Lydia walked through the dark, stone walls of the fort toward where the bunks were located. The halls were not so bereft of light thanks to a couple of lit torches on the walls here and there. Even a couple of tables and chairs seen off to the side did not look so mold ridden as she thought they would be. There were even good-looking books laid atop them, as if recently added from somewhere else.
These were all additions to a fort that should have made it livelier, yet Lydia couldn't shake a feeling within her. Despite the best efforts of its newest occupants, Fort Greymoor remained just that: a run-down fort. How anyone could live in such a fort, much less occupy it for any amount of time and not feel creeped out was beyond her.
"It's only for a short time, Lydia. Soon, you'll be back at Whiterun..." she said to herself, attempting to see reason, "Just gotta fend off those Stormcloaks first... all three of us..."
She shook her head to fend off the unconscious worry that threatened to flare up again. How many times must she assure herself?! Siffre and Illia would be fine! They were at Whiterun, along with Irileth, Hrongar, and Jarl Balgruuf's entire city guard. Every one of them would be protecting the city as well as keeping each other covered! There really was nothing to worry about, so she needed to shut down this feeling whenever it came up.
A couple more turns through the winding hallway and Lydia found herself before the door that led to the bunks. She hadn't gone inside yet, but listening through the door she could not hear any voices within. It sounded like she would be alone. Some privacy at a resting area on the eve of battle did sound nice, until she was reminded of the exact setting yet again.
Before she could reach out to push the door in and let herself in, a voice rang out through the hallway.
"Oh, housecarl Lydia! You're getting some rest now?"
That voice and the way it carried were not hard to identify at all. Lydia turned to the side to see Legate Rikke standing at the other end of the 'T' section of the hallway.
"Yes, Legate Rikke, it is getting late, and I do need to rest," Lydia replied, "Your soldiers assured me the alarm would be sounded at the first sign of trouble?"
"Indeed, they'll stay as awake as night owls if they have to," Rikke said. A moment of silence passed between the two, and Rikke seemed to pick up on the look Lydia had on her face, "You have my word, housecarl; we will drive those Stormcloak traitors back. Whiterun will not fall."
Lydia looked back up at Rikke's face. Despite the distance between the two, she could see the Legate's face well enough to know sincerity when she saw it. Rikke was a Nord, just like her. She knew her own kind well enough to know that Nords keep their words and their promises. For the first time since coming out here, she felt a more honest sense of reassurance.
She nodded again, this time with more sincerity. Rikke then proceeded to proceed down the hallway as she initially intended, leaving Lydia alone once again. The housecarl pushed the door inwards, the wooden door leaving a loud creak that echoed greatly off of the stone walls and slipped inside.
Just as she had predicted, a number of fresh yet simple beds lined the walls of a simple room. They were wooden cots with single animal furs to serve as blankets and a hay-stuffed pillow. It was a simple as it could be, once again a reflection of what the Imperial army appeared to prioritize.
As no one else was present in the room at this time, Lydia was essentially free to choose whichever cot she desired. She quickly settled on the cot closest to her and the door.
She first took a seat at the edge and set down her shield before undoing the strap that secured her sheathed sword on her hip. Once those were set aside next to the head of the bed, she began the slow and tedious process of undoing the armor on her body. She wouldn't be waking up stiff while wearing armor on her person this time.
As she worked her mind began to drift unconsciously to the off-handed comments aimed at her not too long ago in the mess hall. The soldiers must have at this point heard something regarding a Dragonborn, but from the sounds of it were no closer to tracing it to who specifically it was than they ever were.
"So crazy to think sometimes..." she said to herself as she worked her gauntlets off, "Siffre, my thane, was once a criminal herself... I wonder if she had always been in that 'profession'? Oh well, so long as the Imperials never find out, she'll be just fine..."
Eventually all pieces of armor were removed from her and set on the floor near the cot. For the first time in a very long time Lydia found herself feeling physically lighter with the absence of armor weighing her down. How long had she gone with that set on her? When was the last time she'd taken it off?
She gave a quick yawn along with a final stretching of her arms and upper body before laying down on the cot. The length of the cot felt uncomfortably itchy even through the material of her tunic and the pillow beneath her head felt no better, but it was serviceable for the time being. The weight of the day's events suddenly was felt in the form of fatigue and Lydia's eyes closed in no time.
"ALL HANDS, OUTSIDE! NOW!"
Lydia's world of blissful slumber completely shattered. Something had practically crashed a door open to rip her from her moment of sleep. Her mind was set upon by initial confusion as well as irritation from being woken up until she focused in on what exactly just happened.
"Outside? What's going on?"
She voiced her question, but no one was around to provide her an answer. Glancing around she was still the only occupant in the room, just as she was when she first came in here. Her grogginess was still present but slowly beginning to pass as her senses came back to her. She quickly remembered where she was, why she was here, and what could be the nature of that rather rude sudden awakening.
Lydia quickly shook her head and pulled her legs over the side of the cot, she hastily made to put her armor back on, piece by piece, a process made excruciatingly longer due to the sudden urgency of this moment. Seriously, what exactly was happening right now?!
"Come on, get on there, you..." she mumbled to herself as she refit her left gauntlet over her arm.
Eventually, with her boots slipped back on and secured on her feet, Lydia resecured her sheathed sword and picked her shield back up. She was now fully awake and fully armored, ready to move.
She quickly dashed out of the room and into the hallway, where she was quickly met with the sounds of running footsteps off to the side. Her mind was mildly alarmed for fear that some enemy had spotted her and was rushing her. She instinctively reached to grab for the hilt of her sword, until she looked closer at who the footsteps belonged to.
"Housecarl Lydia? Come on, let's go!"
A pair of Imperial soldiers were rushing down the hallway. From the pace they were initially running it didn't appear they were stopping for her specifically.
"What's going on? Are we under attack?!" Lydia frantically asked as she began to run alongside them.
"I dunno! I heard the alarm horn from outside just moments ago!" one of them said.
"What time is it anyway...!?" the other one said.
"Never mind that! If those Stormcloaks want a fight, we'll fight them any time of day!" the other pressed.
'The Stormcloaks?' Lydia thought, 'Are they already attacking? How long did I even sleep for?'
In no time Lydia and the two soldiers practically spilled out of the hallway and into the larger entry room. One more door to pass through and they would enter into the fort's outer courtyard.
They were not alone, as a number of other Imperial soldiers were rushing from various directions and hallways. Some of them even now were hastily trying to put their own pieces of armor on their body as they were rushed to action. There was the occasional comment of alarm and panic here and there, but for the most part all the soldiers remained focused on their goal of moving.
"Get going, men! Move, move, MOVE!"
An Imperial officer stood at the foot of the nearby open doors and bid the soldiers outside. Lydia never did catch this one's name. Nevertheless, she rushed outside and into the courtyard.
The sky was still dark with stars twinkling up above. Her eyes didn't even need to adjust to any harsh change of light, as there was none at this time. It was still night-time? It was just barely into dusk by the time she had decided to turn in and sleep!
However, the moons, Masser and Secunda, were nowhere to be seen. Their absence from the night sky typically meant that the light of dawn was not too far behind. As it was the surrounding area was still cloaked in pure dark of the night, punctuated by a burning brazier her and there. She must have slept for a good portion of the evening, all things considered.
Lydia broke away from the flow of soldiers and made her own way towards the main gate. She edged her way through and around the wooden spiked barricades blocking the way. She fully emerged through the courtyard's entry-gate out into the open. If there really were Stormcloaks upon them she would be prepared to meet them head-on.
Her determination quickly flashed into confusion as she looked upon nothing outside. Even under the dark of night there was just enough light for her to see the landscape and all that would be walking its flat plains. Aside from a nearby dead tree, a rock jutting from the ground, or a running stream, nothing was seen as that out of the ordinary...
She looked again, and all at once her mind flashed a familiar memory.
She could see it. There, on the distant horizon, the sunrise. As red and orange as a forge's embers. What a beautiful sight to behold-
Wait... no. That wasn't a sunrise, not at this time of day. Not even dawn's early light made a glow that red, and orange, and yellow... as that of flames.
Out at the horizon, just off to the left side of distant Whiterun, she caught the sight of movement. Numerous little things slowly advancing, the light of the flames from these torches they held as proper illumination. They were small, almost tiny from this distance, but she barely managed to see that they were... people. Hundreds of people rushing forward wearing blue.
'Who are they? Why does it look like they're running? And what were they holding in their hands? Weapons?' Her head ran the exact same sequence of questions as that of her dream, as if from muscle memory of the mind.
'What is going on?'
Only this time, her conscious self knew exactly the answer to the question her dream had posed:
"The Stormcloaks. They're here!"
-The invasion is well underway, and I've got the plans to see it all put to words, so stay tuned and keep on reading! -