Skyrim: A Tale of Two Dragons
Chapter 6: The Weight Destiny
Wulfric watched with dread as the massive winged beast slammed into the stone watchtower with a tremendous crack.
Immediately, the upper third of the watchtower broke apart and fell, screams from the guards still inside barely audible over the dragon's roar. The dragon perched on top of the ruined tower, illuminating the wreckage as it blasted fire from its gullet to the helpless guards below. The flames lit up the night like a second sun, giving everyone a view of the damage it had caused in a matter of seconds.
Even at this distance, Wulfric could see that it was a different dragon. It was noticeably smaller and was covered in bronze-like scales instead of the ebony scales of the nightmare beast from Helgen. It's fire breath, while clearly deadly, was a candle compared to the inferno that was the nightmare dragon's flames. It had called itself Alduin in his dream.
Wulfric was jarred back to realty as a farmhand slammed into, falling to the ground with a grunt. The man scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could and began racing toward the city gates. Wulfric noticed that nearly every man, woman and child were running for the gates with abandon.
"Bergritte!" he heard more shouting behind him and spun to see Olfrid yelling at the main home of the farm. "Bergritte! Bring me my armor and blade at once!"
Jon, already wearing some simple iron armor with a sword at his side, immediately started in on his father. "You can't be serious! What do you intend to do, father? This is a dragon, not a wandering bandit! If you try to fight this you will die!"
Olfrid backhanded his son across the face. Jon took a step back, more shocked than hurt. A woman ran out of the house, carrying a set of leather armor imbedded with steel studs. Wulfric could tell it was older but looked to have been well maintained. Olfrid tossed off his expensive vest, tossing it to the ground without ever looking at his son.
"We are Battle-Borns and we helped found Whiterun." Olfrid said as he began to fasten the armor to him. "To think that I would not lay down my life to protect the city our ancestors built…you will be no son of mine if you stay your sword against this foul beast, Jon."
He finished strapping his chest piece on as the woman held out steel gauntlets for him. Olfrid slid the first on before glancing over at Wulfric. He frowned and let out a sigh. "What about you, boy? Will you help to slay this beast?"
Wulfric stared at him. Not even a day ago this man had insulted his parents, himself and essentially attempted to have him legally killed in battle by his own nephew. Wulfric felt that Olfrid would rather have eaten his own sword than as a bastard like him for help.
Beyond that, he owed little to Whiterun. It was no home to him and his family had even fled from there when he was conceived. Why shouldn't he just leave this people, these strangers to their fates?
Several brief memories flashed in his mind's eye.
Eorlund tending to the Skyforge. Irileth helping his find a piece of armor that actually fit. Dagny speaking with him as she healed his wounds. Olfrina sneaking him a piece of pie.
These people were neither friends nor family but they had done right by him. He would protect them if he could.
Wulfric nodded at Olfrid. "I don't have much left in me, but I'll lay down all I have. I'm not very fond of dragons after Helgen."
Olfrid stared him down, eyes intense before nodding curtly. "Perhaps the Battle-Born blood does flow through you after all."
He glanced over at Jon. "Go and fetch him a healing potion and a stamina portion as well. By the looks of it, he'll need both to even make it to the tower."
Jon said nothing but sprinted off into the house.
Olfrid turned and began to speak softly to the woman who had brought his armor. From their closeness Wulfric assumed that she was Olfrid's wife and turned away, giving them a private moment. After all, they could all be dead in the next few minutes.
Wulfric watched the dragon illuminate the night with two more torrents of fire. With each burst of flame, Wulfric swore he could hear a booming voice within the dragon's roar.
'Yol toor shul. Those were the words I heard from Alduin. What does it mean?'
With another mighty roar, the dragon lifted itself from the shattered tower and flew back into the night. It soared up into the darkness, becoming little more than a silhouette as it headed back towards the mountains.
Wulfric watched it go until Jon thrust a large green bottle under his nose.
"Drink this," he said. "It's the strongest stamina potion we have. As soon as you finish that, I've got a health potion as well. It's not the best but it'll have to do. Idolaf and Janessa needed the stronger ones to last until the healers can get here."
The thin man peered over at the ruined tower as Wulfric downed the green potion. The ground was charred back and every bush was still on fire. Even from a distance you could see several guardsmen lying prone on the ground. Who knew how many had survived?
Jon sighed. "From the looks of things, it might be a while before they can be seen."
Wulfric downed the red vial next as Olfrid stepped up to join them. "Let's head out. Keep an eye on the mountains in case it comes back. If it doesn't, just try and help as many men as you can."
Together the three men walked silently towards the ruined tower. Wulfric saw a wave of guardsmen come rushing out of the gates as well, Irileth leading them. Picking up their pace, the trio reached the tower at roughly the same time as Irileth and her men.
"I'm surprised to see you here," the Dark Elf remarked as Wulfric approached her.
"It's a long story," the large man admitted. "What can we do to help?"
"We need to get wounded to the temple at once. The healers have been briefed on the situation and are ready to take in as many as they can. We've also alerted the Hall of the Dead to expect several bodies that will need tended to."
"A busy night for all, unfortunately." Olfrid intoned. "What has the Jarl said on this matter?"
Irileth glared at the old Nord. "The Jarl only knows that there has been an attack and sent aid. Everything else will have to wait."
Olfrid opened his mouth to protest but Jon elbowed him roughly. The old man glared at his son but shouting from a guardsmen tore all of their focus away.
"It's a trap!" the man bellowed. His tunic was stained red and he was stumbling around the upper portion of the tower that remained standing. "It's coming back!"
Wulfric snapped his head back to the mountains just in time to see the moonlight reflect off the dragon's bronze scales as it dived towards them.
"Archers!" Irileth screamed.
Every guardsman pulled out bows in an instant, nocking arrows and letting them fly at the winged beast. The dragon snarled in rage as most arrow bounced off of his scaly hide. A few managed to hold their mark, imbedding them into the dragon's flesh.
The dragon continued its dive, gliding just over the ruined tower. It snatched the lone guardsmen in its talons before flapping up into the night sky. The guard's screams became distant before all too loud again as the monster dropped him from hundreds of feet up.
Wulfric looked away but still heard the man's screams all the way down and the wet smack his body made when it hit the dirt.
The dragon swooped back down and landed atop the tower. The stone creaked under its weight but held, a few more blocks shattering off to the ground below. The dragon had an almost pleased look upon its face before it reared back and bellowed out a stream of fire.
"Yol toor shul!"
Wulfric swore as he looked around for something to do. He'd left his bow at the inn figuring that it wouldn't be needed for a one-on-one duel. As it was now, he was next to useless unless he could get within a few feet of the beast.
Spotting a hunk of shattered stone about the size of a melon, the large Nord picked it off the ground and began running at the dragon. Its fire breath was just beginning to dissipate when Wulfric hurled the stone as hard as he could towards the beast.
Wulfric's aim held true, slamming into the dragon right between its eyes. The beasts head jerked back, more from surprise than pain. Its eyes found Wulfric, staring him down.
'I'm not really sure what I hoped to accomplish with that.'
With another mighty roar, the great beast swooped down from the tower at Wulfric. The Nord immediately turned and ran, looking for any means of escape. Finding nothing, he simply dived to the ground, pressing himself as low as he could.
Wulfric felt a gust of wind as the dragon flew over him. He looked up to see it flying past, talons outstretched from when it had tried to grab him. Nearby, the local guardsmen were firing volleys of arrows at it. Jon and Olfrid both looked to have picked up discarded bows and had joined in the guard's attempts.
As the dragon reared around and began to head back towards them it was clear the arrows were beginning to do some damage. Blood had begun seep from where the arrows had punctured its scaly hide, staining the bronze scales a dark red.
With a snarl, the dragon slammed down onto the ground in the midst of a group of guardsmen. A flick of the beast's tail sent one man flying into the ruined down with a wet crack. It grabbed another in its fanged maw, devouring him even as it crushed another man under its front claws.
Wulfric drew his maul and charged at the beast with abandon. Now that it was on the ground, he could really do some damage. He spotted Irileth racing at the dragon from the opposite side, eyes burning with hatred having seen so many of her men slaughtered.
Olfrid and Jon continued to pepper the beast with arrows. Jon's were less accurate but faster, hitting the dragon from snout to tail. Olfrid took his shots with careful aim, hitting already bloodied spot in the dragon's hide and constantly aiming for the eyes and mouth.
Irileth reached the dragon first, her sword slashing across the dragon's bronze scales. The weapon didn't leave a mark but the dragon certainly reacted, whipping its tail at the Dark Elf. Irileth ducked under the tail and, angling her blade underneath the scales, stabbed the dragon's haunches.
The beast yowled in pain and spun to face Irileth, ripping the sword from her hands as fire began to build at the back of its gullet. Focused on Irileth, it never saw Wulfric from the other side.
The blacksmith slammed the giant hammer into the dragon's front claw with all his might. He felt the impact rip up his arms, flooding him with pain. More importantly, he felt the dragon's bone snap like a young sapling.
The fire disappeared in an instant as the beast roared loud enough to shatter nearby windows. Lifting its shattered arm to its body, the beast pushed off from the ground as quickly as it could. Jon and Olfrid, along with the few guardsmen that hadn't been killed, had begun to aim for the thin membrane that made of the dragon's wings.
Between its damaged arm and the rapidly increasing holes in its wings, the dragon barely managed to get itself to hover a dozen feet from the ground. A growing puddle of crimson was already gathering beneath it as blood continued to seep from its wounds.
Wulfric learned very quickly that a wounded dragon can also make for a more dangerous dragon.
"Yol toor shul!"
The dragon bellowed out anther stream of fire at the archer group. It came fast than they expected. Two guardsmen caught the flames immediately, shrieking in pain as they burned. Olfrid managed to duck behind a large stone for cover but Jon wasn't so lucky.
The younger Battle-Born was caught in the edge of the flame, the garments on his iron armor bursting into flame. He screamed in pain as Olfrid yanked him behind the stone, attempting to beat the flames out.
Snatching a nearby dagger off the ground, Irileth hurled it as hard as she could for the injured dragon. Her aim was true as the blade impaled itself into the beast's eye.
Blinded by pain and rage, the dragon went after the Irileth in a fury. Unable to send out another fire breath so soon, the dragon settled for swooping at her, trying to take out the Dark Elf with its tails and remaining claws. The Jarl's housecarl ducked around the wild blows but her sword was still imbedded in the dragon haunches, leaving her nothing to counter with.
Instead, she took off at a run for the tower, looking for some kind of cover from the beast. Wulfric followed her from a distance, not looking to draw the dragon's attention to himself. While he had his maul, he also knew he was nowhere as agile as the Dunmer woman and would make for a much easier target.
Irileth made it to the base of the tower just as the dragon launched another blast of fire. Irileth raced through the broken tower and dove clean through a shattered wall to the other side, allowing the flames to scorch the inside of the tower.
Not fooled, the dragon continued to pursue the Dark Elf around the tower but between her dark skin in the cover of night and the dragon's damaged eye, she was nearly impossible to see.
Wulfric raced right for the broken opening in the tower, an idea already forming in his head. It would either end this fight or kill him.
He tore through the smoke and flames, racing for a staircase to the upper level. He needed to reach the top level of the tower – at least, the top of the remaining tower – for this to work. The heat burned at him and the smoke made his vision blur but he was a blacksmith. Fire and smoke were as familiar to him as his own hands.
He ignored it and raced up the stairs, taking them three or four at a time. He didn't know how long Irileth could keep the dragon busy. He reached the top floor of the shattered tower, skidding to a stop near the edge.
He could see Irileth hiding behind a broken chunk of tower below him. She managed to pick up a sword at some point, but the dragon was slowly forcing her closer to the 'front' of the tower where most of the flames were still burning. Before long, she would be visible again.
"Yol toor shul!"
The dragon launched another blast of flame and Irileth was forced to run from her cover before the fire enveloped it. The dragon spotted her as soon as she took off and began a shallow dive, neck outstretched and mouth opened to devour the woman.
Wulfric waited just a split second before he jumped from the tower. He felt weightless for just a moment before he dropped like a stone.
The large Nord brought his maul down with every bit of strength he had left, slamming it directly into the top of the dragon's head with an ear shattering crunch and a wet spray of dark blood.
The dragon went limp instantly, crashing to the ground and hurling Wulfric off of it. The man went tumbling across the battlefield, bouncing through a burning bush before rolling to a stop. With a groan, Wulfric forced himself back to his feet, ignoring the slight burns and cuts covering his exposed arms.
Irileth cautiously approached the downed dragon, sword at the ready. She reached the beast and pointedly stabbed it in the snout. When there was no reaction, the Dunmer practically collapsed, dropping her blade in relief.
Wulfric limped up beside her, along with the few remaining guardsmen that had managed to survive.
"It is dead." Irileth said plainly, slowly pushing herself back to her feet. "Alert the Jarl and call for aid. We will need immediate help for any survivors."
Before anyone could move, the dragon's body ignited for a brief moment and slowly began to burn away. The collection of survivors stared at it in confusion as the beast's scales began to burn away.
Wulfric heard a sudden howling in the distance – so faint that he almost didn't hear it – before a surging heat overtook his body. The howl increased as if he were trapped within a hurricane, whipping all around him and nearly deafening him. The burning feeling increased to the point where he saw something that looked like ethereal golden flames swirling around him. Just as everything overwhelmed him completely, it stopped as if nothing had happened at all and he dropped to the ground exhausted beyond anything he'd ever felt.
He stared numbly ahead at the remains of the dragon. Everything but its bones and teeth had burned away to nothing, leaving a charred skeleton in its place. He idly noticed that the hilt of his maul was sticking out of the dragon's skull, the rest having fallen into the skeleton as the meat and scale burned away. It appeared that the weapon was fine from the inferno that overtaken the dead monster, though Wulfric couldn't even begin to understand what in Oblivion that meant.
He was quickly lifted to his feet by several guardsmen, all of them talking at once. Wulfric looked around to see that everyone was staring at him. Even Olfrid, who was helping a hurt but surviving Jon limp over, stared at him in disbelief. Irileth looked confused and irritated by it.
"Impossible," Olfrid muttered. "It can't be true. You are a bastard spawn of my sister and a mangy oaf. You cannot have dragon's blood within you!" He said with a hiss.
"But it is true!" one of the guardsmen exclaimed. He pulled off his helmet, blonde hair spilling out as he tossed it aside. The man, another Nord, stared at Wulfric with something akin to awe in his blue eyes. "He is a Dragon-Born!"
Immediately more babbling broke out between the guardsmen. Olfrid carefully propped Jon up on a broken piece of tower before turning and joining the fray, his wizened voice a much different tone that the other guardsmen.
Irileth watched the scene for a moment before deciding she'd had enough of it.
"Quiet! All of you!" the Dark Elf bellowed.
The guardsmen immediately quelled their debate, Olfrid still decrying Wulfric's name. Irileth ignored him and addressed her charges.
"Who and what is a Dragon-Born?"
The blonde guardsmen answered her, staring over at Wulfric. It was beginning to make him uncomfortable.
"A Dragon-Born is a being blessed by the Divines with the blood and soul of a dragon! They are said to appear in great times of need. To think that one would appear during a civil war…" the man trailed off.
Another spoke up in his stead. "The legend is that a Dragon-Born is able to speak like the dragons with no prior knowledge, ma'am. To be able to use a Thu'um, like the Tongues of old. You know how powerful a Thu'um can be! It was what Ulfric used to murder the High King!"
Irileth scowled at that.
As if on cue, Olfrid immediately started in on Wulfric.
"This man cannot be a Dragon-Born! He is not even from Skyrim! He has no dragon's blood within him and he certainly doesn't have the soul of a dragon. He is a bastard, a cur and he cannot be trusted! I don't know what magic he used to slay that beast, but it is something that should not be welcomed in our city."
"But if he's a bastard, how do you know what blood flows through him?"
Olfrid turned to see Jon forcing himself to his feet. Olfrid had pulled and cut his armor away from him to save him from burning alive, but the young man was still covered in burns. Wulfric could see the bright red skin pulled taught in several places but the man's left side carried far more damaged. Having burnt himself more than a few times, Wulfric understood the amount of pain the man had to be in.
His pain was obvious but so was his determination. "Don't be stupid, father. There is no known bloodline to have dragon's blood since the Septim Dynasty was wiped out 200 years ago. Don't let you rage blind you to the fact that this is a miracle."
Irileth turned to Wulfric. "What do you have to say about all this?"
He looked back at her with exhaustion written on his face. "I have no idea. I don't know anything about dragon blood or dragon souls or Thu'ums or any of this! I just know I killed the damn thing by bashing its head in, some weird shit happened and now it's just a skeleton."
Olfrid started in again. "You see! Even he-"
Irileth cut him off. "Very well. What matters most is that the dragon is dead. Wulfric, I'd like you to accompany me to speak with the Jarl. He'll want to know everything about this situation tonight. Guards, clean up the area as best you can and set about getting those too injured to walk up to the temple. Once that's done, come and take care of the dead."
"I will come to see the Jarl as well, once I've assured my son and nephew are okay. Tell him to expect my call early tomorrow."
Irileth frowned but nodded. "I shall tell him, but I am no messenger Olfrid."
The two glared at each other for a brief moment, before the old man gave her a curt nod and headed back to his son.
Irileth watched him go before turning to Wulfric. "Are you prepared to go?"
Wulfric sighed and trudged over to the dragon's skeleton. With a grunt, he reached into the open mouth and pulled his maul the rest of the way through the skull. Careful to avoid the teeth, he guided the giant hammer out of the beast's mouth and re-attached it to his armor.
"Let's go."
The trek back to Whiterun went slowly. Irileth hadn't been pushed so hard in battle since the war and Wulfric had fought in two separate fights before the dragon even showed up. The fact that he was standing, let alone walking, was a minor miracle.
The rush of battle having worn off, Wulfric injuries began to hinder him more and more as time passed. The health potion he had taken at the Battle-Born estate had been helpful but more kept him running than healed him properly. Whatever boost the stamina potion had given him had left him after he broke the dragon's arm.
The gates were barricaded shut when they arrived but the guards quickly opened them when they recognized Irileth. She waved off their questions and continued to Dragonsreach, Wulfric limping lightly beside her. The city was lit up brighter than Irileth could ever remember but the streets were empty nearly empty.
They had just made their way to marketplace in front of the Bannered Mare when it happened. It was a single word so loud that you felt it just as much as you heard it. It was as if thunder itself had been given a voice.
"DOVAHKIIN!"
Irileth stumbled as the wall of sound slammed into her, catching herself on a nearby merchant cart. Wulfric wasn't nearly as lucky, losing his fooingt and falling into a small stand of fruit, collapsing it underneath him.
Irileth righted herself quickly, turning to the nearby mountains that surrounded Whiterun. "By the Nine, was that the Greybeards?"
Wulfric didn't move from the ground, covered in bits of broken wood and crushed squashes and melons. "I'm really starting to hate this place."
Irileth came over and helped him up with a grunt. Wulfric didn't even bother to try and brush the bits of debris off of him. "So, mind telling me what that was?"
Irileth's red eyes darted towards the mountaintops again before shaking her head. "I have an idea but I'm not certain. Balgruuf will know more about this as well as this dragon-born legend. He knows all the legends of Skyrim. We need to see him now."
The Dark Elf strode off, her pace drastically increased to just under a jog. Wulfric watched her go for a moment before following after her with a sigh.
Even moving quicker, it still took far longer than Irileth would have liked to reach Dragonsreach. Wulfric struggled mightily up the stairs. The man needed a healer, Irileth knew, but he would live with his wounds as they were. Unless tended to immediately several guardsmen would not. So, she bit down her frustrations and helped the larger man up to the keep as best she could.
The castle looked to have been thrown into chaos. Balgruuf was pacing near his throne, still clad in his sleepwear with a large robe thrown over it. Despite being woken up with news up a dragon attacking his city, he looked surprisingly in control of the situation.
Proventus was hurrying about, relaying messages and orders from the Jarl to different people. Hrongar stood near his older brother, filling in Irileth's role as bodyguard. The warrior was visibly tensed and clad in full armor. Farengar could be heard shouting back-and-forth to Caius and Danica Pure-Spring about dragon's fire.
Irileth cut through the masses, Wulfric trudging along behind her. Balgruuf spotted her instantly, a quick look of relief coming over his face before it set back into a calm determination.
"Irileth!" The Jarl exclaimed as they approached him. "I understand that the dragon has been slain but the details have been light. What happened out there?"
"Yes, the dragon has been killed, my Jarl." Irileth informed him. "We suffered heavy casualties to both the local guardsmen as well as several Dragonsreach guardsmen that followed me into the battle. Unfortunately, I don't have exact numbers."
Balgruuf nodded, a heavy frown on his face. "That is regrettable. I'm sure that each of them fought bravely and will find a place in Sovngarde. How was the beast killed?"
"I smashed its head with my hammer." Wulfric cut in, casually pulling his maul out and propping it up on the floor. "That's when everything got really weird."
Balgruuf stared at the massive weapon and its welder in a stupefied awe. He heard Hrongar give out a muffled curse at the size of the hammer. "…I see. Well, it seems that my city is indebted to you again. First you bring me news of the dragon attack at Helgen and now you slay it in Whiterun."
Wulfric snorted. He knew his decorum was terrible at the moment but he just couldn't find the will to care after the last few hours. "That wasn't the same dragon. This one was bronze colored, not black, and was maybe half as big as the one that attacked Helgen."
That brough the room to a hushed standstill. Farengar slowly wandered out to the main hall, hands stained with ink and a scroll held loosely in his hand looking like he might cry. Proventus had a look of horror on his face and Caius had gone stark white. Balgruuf fell back on to his throne with a defeated sigh.
"Half of its size and look at the ruin it brought about. I do not how we can keep such beasts at bay. It is a blessing that it chose to attack a watchtower and not the city itself."
"Balgruuf!" Irileth snapped at the Jarl. Her directness seemed to snap him back to reality. "What matters now is that this dragon is dead. We will rebuild and be better prepared should one attack again. This encounter was a learning experience for us all and, by the Divines, we've survived to learn it."
Balgruuf nodded. "You are right, Irileth. A dragon attacked us by surprise and we managed to kill it. That's what matters. Now then, what was this strangeness you spoke of."
Wulfric shrugged. "Irileth distracted it long enough for me to bash its skull in with my maul. After that, it burned away to just bone and there was an odd golden light."
Irileth nodded. "This is true. After the dragon died and burned away, Wulfric was surrounded by a golden flame that did not burn him."
"A Dovahkiin!" Farengar gasped as he dropped his scroll and hurried back to his quarters.
Balgruuf's eyes widened. He stared down Wulfric, looking at the larger man from head to toe as if he were taking him in for the first time. "Is this true?"
Wulfric nodded. "A few of the guardsmen said something about me being a dragon-born."
Hrongar quickly stepped to his brother's side, whispering something into the Jarl's ear. Balgruuf nodded. "Yes, that would make the most sense."
The Jarl breathed deeply, steepling his fingers before he breathed out through his nose slowly. "Between this light and the call of the Greybeards, it would appear that you would be a dragon-born. A myth made reality before our very eyes."
"But I'm just a normal man." Wulfric protested. "I'm a blacksmith who would really just like to be on his way back to Wrothgar."
"We shall see." Balgruuf answered. "Farengar! Are you looking for the tablet?"
A muffled curse was heard from the mage's quarters. Hrongar rolled his eyes and strode off in the direction the mage had went. A moment later he returned, carrying a large slate of stone with a tired Farengar following him. The Nord set it on of the large tables in the hall.
Balgruuf walked over to the stone. "This is a section of a wall that was destroyed a few days ago in Bleak Falls Barrow during a battle with a dragur that was able to use his Thu'um to attack us. We lost three men but my brother, Hrongar, was able to kill it.
"According to Farengar's studies, he believes that this portion of the wall contains the language of dragons translated to human speech. Why don't you come and see if you can understand what it says?"
Wulfric raised an eyebrow but limped over to the stone. He certainly didn't see how he suddenly be able to read a language that he'd never seen before. He looked down at the broken piece of rock, taking in the deep carvings that had been driven into it. It had to be hundreds of years old.
To his surprise, a small section of the words began to glow blue. Wulfric felt a thin chill pass through him as a light breeze ruffled about it. He heard a sound, something nearly unintelligible off in the far distance. A sudden understanding overcame Wulfric.
And then it was gone, just as quick as it had come.
Wulfric glanced around the room. No one else seemed to notice anything different but Balgruuf stared at him with a keen eye and light smirk.
"I believe that you felt something that we did not." The Jarl spoke. "What did you experience?"
"There was a wind," Wulfric told him. "There was a wind, a chill and a voice. I didn't hear what the voice told me said but I still know what it said. I can't explain it really."
"I see," the Jarl said plainly. "I knew Ulric from his time before the uprising. He described something very similar. Granted, he also said that true understanding of the dragon language came after much study and practice."
Balgruuf walked up to Wulfric and made a gesture for anyone sitting to leave the table. After it had cleared out, the Jarl positioned Wulfric so that he stared down the length of the dining table with no one else in sight.
"Whatever you heard, speak it. Let us see if you are a dragon-born."
Wulfric looked at him, uncertain and confused. He wasn't someone who liked to have attention. Nevertheless, the large man spoke the word that had echoed in his mind.
"Fus."
A great force erupted from Wulfric's mouth as he spoke. Dishes and goblets were sent flying from the table, shattering on the ground. The table itself even slid across the floor a few inches.
Everyone stared at the display in amazement, none more than Wulfric himself. He stared in stunned silence until Balgruuf clapped him on the back.
"I'm sorry but you must answer the call of the Greybeards." Balgruuf told him with a grin. "You have been given a gift and a destiny far beyond that of an anvil and hammer. You are a Dovahkiin, a dragon-born, sent by Akatosh to restore balance to the world."
Wulfric noticed that now everyone was practically gawking at him. He shifted uncomfortably.
"I do not know what this means for us, or the rest of Skyrim, but the weight of your destiny will be heavy to bare. Please rest up and heal yourself here at Dragonsreach. When you are ready, you will have to make your way to High Hrothgar, the Throat of the World, and answer the call of the Greybeards."
Wulfric sagged. "I'm assuming I don't really have much choice in this, do I?"
Balgruuf gave Wulfric a solemn smile. Despite their size differences, he placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder.
"One does not refuse the call of the Greybeards. They are widely respected throughout all of Skyrim for their wisdom, power and restraint. To refuse their call would be poorly received, to be kind. This is the first time I can remember someone being summoned. You will have to climb the Seven Thousand Steps and speak to them directly."
Wulfric nodded. "Very well. I'll seek out these Greybeards then."
"Do not be bitter," Balgruuf admonished him. "One does not get to choose their destiny, be it small or large, but they must bear the burden of it all the same. The weight of your destiny is heavy, far heavier than any I have ever seen, but you have been given the broad shoulders to bear it."
Ignoring the still shocked audience, Balgruuf walked back to his throne and sat. "There is still the matter of debit my city owes to you, Wulfric. In honor of your efforts, I name you Thane to Whiterun. You are an honored guest in my city and I give you right to purchase land here."
Balgruuf turned toward Proventus. "What do we have available for purchase?"
The Imperial continued to stare at Wulfric until Balgruuf cleared his throat loudly. The man suddenly snapped to, stammering out an answer. "We are unfortunately in low supply of homes for purchase at the moment, my Jarl. The Wind district is completely full but I do believe that something just opened up in the Plains district. Let me see."
The Imperial hurried over to a nearby desk and began rifling through stacks of papers. In short order the steward pulled a piece of parchment from the pile and brought it to Balgruuf.
"We do have a home that just recently became available in the Plains district. It was where old Alastor lived until his passing a few months back. Breezehome, as he called it, has been cleaned out and renovated since his passing. It just became ready to be sold last week."
Balgruuf smiled. "Perfect. And what is the current price on that?"
"It would normally sell for about 6,000 Septims. Due to the renovations though, I think 7,500 would be a fair price."
Balgruuf nodded and turned to Wulfric. "As my Thane, I can offer this home to you for 5,000 Septims. I understand that this is still a high price but the value of living in the only city in Skyrim that has not been ripped apart by the war cannot be given lightly."
"As much as I appreciate your offer, Balgruuf, I have to decline at the moment. Not only do I have nowhere near that amount of coin, but I don't even want to live here. I'm just passing through."
Balgruuf frowned but nodded in understanding. "Yes, I suppose you did say as much. Either way, I will hold the house for you until to return from speaking with the Greybeards at the very least. Just in case you change your mind. You would be a welcomed addition to my city and Skyrim as a whole."
The Jarl turned and faced the gathering of people still in the main hall.
"You all best be getting back to where you are needed. Caius, I want a full report on the status of the guardsmen; how many did we lose and how many do we have left to reinforce the city? Proventus, I want you to seek out Arcadia and have her start brewing as many health potions as she is able. I want a constant supply at the ready. Hrongar, you and Farengar…"
Wulfric tuned the Jarl out after that, becoming lost in his own thoughts. He felt this sudden weight upon him as he realized the weight on what was being placed upon him. He was a dragon-born. This much had to be true given what he had just done, but what did that mean?
Wulfric had never been a complicated man. He enjoyed working a forge, good meal and drink and a comfortable home. He found comfort in a simple life and now he was a bearer of a destiny that should belong to some great king or noble hero. This, after everything about his origins coming to light and a blood feud with his in-laws, was just too much to take in.
The large man barely noticed as Irileth approached him and wordless guided him from the hall. She led him up a staircase to a well-furnished private room. In a light tone, the Dark Elf instructed him to strip out of his armor while she fetched him some food and a potion. He would have to wait to see a proper healer for now.
As silent as a ghost, Irilethslipped out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. As they prepared a quick filet of salmon, she found a decent sized health potion in a spare cupboard.
By the time she returned to the room, Wulfric had fallen asleep. His branded iron armor was discarded on the floor with his maul resting on its head nearby. Irileth watched him for a moment before placing the health potion on the nightstand and shutting the door behind her.
Thus ends chapter six! We're finally starting to get into the meat of the story now and I can break away from Whiterun. Very excited to continue this story! Please leave a review if you've made it this far. All constructive criticism is welcome!
See you all in the next one!