It is good to be back. At least in some ways.
As Dahlia sits at the council table, she looks out at its members, seeing both friendly faces and those which she could have done without encountering again so soon-at least for another couple of months. She swallows hard, meeting their gazes as she drags the palms of her hands over the light cotton of her skirts. Would it kill some of them to get some manners? She'd have thought that with so many noblemen sitting at the table, there would at least be some modicum of decorum. Apparently not.
Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she lets it out from her mouth slowly. It would not do for her to lose her temper so soon, especially because this is the first time she has returned to her duties in what feels like entirely too long. Polite smiles and blank stares. She would do well to remember that. She chances a glance over at Ulfric, only to see him looking back at her, expression solemn, yet she detects a slight wavering of his lips-an indication to her that he is just as testy about the whole thing as she is. All she can do is ignore them, so she shall.
"What has been done in the last few weeks? What progress have we made?" Her voice punctuates the uncomfortable silence of the room as she tries to get them moving or at least focused on anything other than herself.
A few of the councilmen look back and forth between each other before the head, Lord Timothy Timberwood, bows his head to her and speaks, "Supplies have been moving more and more steadily into Helgen, and we are happy to say that the first few families have moved in. Some ships for the Navy were out on a test demonstration the other day, and well, as of now, we are basically at a standstill."
Lord Corolius clears his throat from the opposite side of the table as Timothy and lifts his gaze to him, eyes focused as if trying to convey some hidden message to him.
The young lord bites his lip and glances quickly from the High Queen to Corolius and then back to the Queen again. "There is also another matter which we'd like to bring up..."
Ulfric's brows furrow. He can only guess at what it is, especially if Levus Corolius is involved. One of his hands inches towards his wife's, and he begins to open his mouth; however, she shakes her head at him as she turns her palm to squeeze his fingers.
If she cannot fend for herself now, it will only get worse.
"What is it Lord Timberwood? How may I be of service to you?"
"Well, the other councilmen have been talking about the mages and-"
"-you had mentioned the College and the mages therein. We are all prepared for a plan in order to incorporate them into our folds. General Stone-Fist," Lord Corolius gestures to the man in question who is sitting two chairs to the left of her, "has already told us that recruitment number are up-"
Galmar leans forward in his chair as his narrowed eyes seek out Levus'. "I don't want involved with this-"
"Oh, but weren't you the one who mentioned it the other day that the Stormcloak troops' greatest weakness over the course of the Civil War was, in fact, their vulnerability to magic?" A grin, slow and sweet like honey, yet tinged with malice, makes its way onto Lord Corolius' face.
It would appear that with Summer in full swing, it is not only the temperatures which have risen, but also the tempers. Dahlia plasters a polite smile onto her face, forcefully pushing back the urge to make a sour face. He knows exactly what she has been doing for the past few months and that she already had sent out some letters of inquiry with Tolfdir. It is not her fault that the Archmage is forgetful. What more does he want?
"I see, and what is it that-" Dahlia is interrupted by a tiny cry coming from Sylvi. Currently, her daughter is strapped to her chest by some fabric wound around her so that the High Queen might be able to attend to her duties as well as take care of their new baby at the same time.
Lord Corolius frowns as he wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Why, it's no wonder nothing is getting done! And now you bring a baby to a formal council meeting? Perhaps you should-"
"Where else would you expect me to be?" Her voice is controlled, yet trembles with poorly-hidden anger as she bounces Sylvi in her arms. "And for that matter, where do you expect me to leave my child? With a nanny where she does not get to know her parents? Maybe that is what you did with your children, but I intend for Sylvi to know hers as much as she can before-"
None of the councilmen say a word. Instead, they awkwardly look away to anywhere but the scene unfolding in front of them as Ulfric begins to stand at the head of the table. Dahlia's other hand reaches towards her husband's, yet her narrowed eyes do not leave the petulant lord.
Under other circumstances, the High King would have already made a more obvious display of his displeasure, but with Sylvi in the room, he tries to contain himself. "She is more well-behaved than you, and perhaps, if you are unable restrain yourself, it is you who should be asked to leave." A hand drifts down to the war axe at his belt, not even making an attempt to veil the physical threat backing his words.
Eyes narrow sharply as if they could cut through the other, neither one of them wanting to back down despite the power difference. Pride is a powerful motivator for many even if there is no possible tangible gain from it. Perceived strength of will is the currency which makes government run, bending and breaking those who would step into the arena.
"And what problem is this solving exactly?" It is Dahlia's voice which makes itself heard first through the murmurings boiling over as tensions mount in the room. "Just moments ago, Lord Corolius, you had said that progress wasn't being made, and yet here you are squabbling over whether an infant is permitted at my own damned court." All the while she remains seated calmly at the table, allowing her words to do the work as she looks down at Sylvi. "Seems rather insignificant if you ask me. Are you really so threatened that you feel the need to 'regain control' of this table by picking at trivialities?"
The room falls silent as both her husband and Levus look towards her. She does not bother looking at either of them, her point already having been made.
"If we sit down, we can continue on with matters more efficiently instead of whatever this is." Dahlia waves a hand vaguely, and the two men retake their seats at the table.
"What would you suggest we turn our eyes to then, my Queen?" Ulfric asks her, a small smile fighting to upturn the corners of his mouth. While she admonished both of them, he still finds pride in the way she navigated the situation. Despite her time away from politics, it would seem that she returned to the table with just as much fire as when she left.
"Perhaps on how we will gain more magic users. Levus is right, and we will need more fire power than those that the College can offer us if we are going to stand a fighting chance against Alinor's mage armies." She sighs as she makes a polite nod towards Lord Corolius in acknowledgement before looking at her husband. "As I have heard, there has been no news from High Rock. Is that still the case?"
"That's correct."
The other members nod their heads in confirmation of Ulfric's response.
"Have any of you thought of extending an invitation to the Reachfolk?"
Blinking silence meets her question as several of the members at the table, her husband included, look to her in surprise.
"My heart, while your input is valuable to me, I am not sure-"
"Have any of you tried?" She asks as she focuses her gaze back on him. "I am more than well aware that our history with the people of the Reach is one which is fraught with conflict and bad blood, but perhaps-"
"-perhaps we could offer to treat with savages? Is this your idea of trying to fix our problems?" Lord Corolius speaks again, not even bothering to hide the discontent in his voice at the suggestion.
Many of the others hold the same doubt in their expression as they begin muttering amongst themselves. Such an idea is beyond their comprehension. Over the years, multiple governments have tried to secure diplomatic relations with the Reachfolk, yet they have all have been unsuccessful until now. Making any attempts of it usually ends rather poorly-an arrow lodged between the eyes.
"Do not look so scandalized by the mere suggestion. Certainly with leverage we could broker some sort of deal with them which would be mutually beneficial." Dahlia takes in a breath through her nose, counting to ten before letting it out. It would not do for her to lose what calm she holds now especially when it would seem that she is the only one who can see things clearly. "Besides this, the issue with the Reach is one which has needed closure for quite a while. Perhaps forming an alliance with them will give us what we need. Or is it really that you do not see the forest from the trees?"
Ulfric looks to his wife, a frown etched on his face that would be better suited for someone he holds much less affection for. "As if Madanach would allow any of us to get near him." He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in thought as the corners of his lips sink further in displeasure before speaking again, "As if I would allow you to go anywhere near him."
"This has nothing to do with what anyone will or will not allow, Ulfric." She sighs. "This has everything to do with the eventuality of what will happen and this includes the Reach. Surely Madanach knows this as well even if you do not see eye-to-eye with each other. It's more than any one group. Actually," Dahlia pauses for a moment as she tries to think of how she wants to word her next thought, "this mirrors the situation with the Snow Quarter."
Her husband bristles at the mention of this, especially in front of the other council members. Making repairs to the mostly-Dunmer populated section of Windhelm was not popular among any of them, at least for the older members of the group. "Which is something we have already dealt with and made progress on." He gestures to Scouts-Many-Marshes, "I believe I went above and beyond that by expanding on those relations."
"It's not enough, and you know it."
Some of the councilmen begin to mutter between themselves, their uneasy discontent becoming louder until Levus' breaks through them again.
"And do you think we should just open our borders and extend a hand to throw out our coin to every savage group without a home?"
"I'd be careful, Lord Corolius, with how you continue your thoughts." Scouts' eyes narrow into dangerous slits. "Who is running your economy, and who ensures your imports and exports?"
"I think we all need to back up and take a moment to breathe. We are in a delicate situation and doing anything rash right now won't help us." Lord Timbergreen states as he holds out his hand in an attempt to placate the discussion bubbling around him.
"And what do you think, my King? What is your opinion in all of this? Will you settle for what your wife tells you and allow her to run the country? She was absent for months and has no idea-"
"Enough!" Ulfric's fist slams into the table, goblets and plates clattering over the surface to echo his voice. "This is-" he scrubs a hand down his face, and his eyes dart between his wife, Corolius, Scouts, and Timbergreen.
What an absolute mess. To make matters worse, Sylvi begins to stir, another cry sounding from his daughter, and his wife stands to try and calm her. He would have been much better off if he had stayed in bed this morning. He could be dozing off with one of his wife's hands draped across his chest. Perhaps he would draw her close, pressing her into him before taking her for the first time in around three months, her warm body wrapped around him and-
Voices crash and swell together in a violent buzz around them as several of the council members rise to their feet, fingers pointing and jabbing at one another in accusation. All the while Ulfric stares in disbelief at the scene around them. How did they get to this point?
Tensions crack like fine china smashed on stone floors finally revealing the true sharp edges lurking beneath the veneer. What was put held together by weak bonds is now shattered into fragmented pieces.
Was it ever really together at all? As he glances at his wife, he knows there is only one thing left for him to do.
"If you had thought things would be easy, you should have picked another profession, councilmen. And if you think I will continue to allow your insolence, you are gravely mistaken." The words leave him quietly, yet each syllable is enunciated carefully to hold the cold snap of a threat behind them. "I am your king, and you will listen."
The chatter suddenly stops, coming to a silence which rolls almost heavily throughout the room. He now has their attention, and even Dahila's eyes are drawn to his while she bounces Sylvi on her hip.
"We have been doing the best we can with what forces we have and what has been thrown our way even if resources are currently meager. It is no fault of ourselves but rather the situation which was bequeathed onto us at the death of the Empire. We must all rise from the ashes and rise to the occasion. Are we not Nords? Do we not follow in Talos' path?"
They are rhetorical questions, of course, all designed to stoke the fires of passion and inspire blood to run hot. He does not receive an answer, nor did he expect one. Eyes of glinted steel flick from one person to the next to see the same look reflected back to him. Good. It would appear he still has the spark.
One of Ulfric's lips curls up into a smirk before he continues. "Have patience, and hold fast to your faith. I know it is hard, but we did not come all this way to fail now. We will lead you, swords raised, to release the boot of the Thalmor from all of our necks. Liberation will come, and Skyrim will prosper." He then takes one last look around the room and turns his back to them. "You are dismissed."
If there is one thing which Ulfric's rousing speeches are good for-other than inspiration, of course-, it is making sure that each and every single person in the room wishes to speak with him, so it takes twice as long for him to get anywhere.
Under other circumstances Dahlia would be annoyed with the parade around the room while she fixes a polite smile onto her face as courtiers and politicians pay lip service to herself and her husband. However, now she has more than a good excuse to make a swift exit for their bedchambers: Sylvi.
She smiles down at her daughter swaddled in furs to see her eyes slowly blinking up at her. Someone is clearly fighting a much needed nap.
"They tire me as well, Sylvi." Dahlia tells her softly as she makes her way back into their room to put her down.
While they have every nursemaid and midwife the could ever want at their disposal to help, the High Queen prefers to try to take her daughter herself whenever possible.
As soon as she places Sylvi in her crib, she sits at the edge of her bed, her furs seeming to sigh as they puddle around her. Looking down at her daughter's face, she feels emotion well up through her as the corners of her eyes prick with tears. It has been a difficult month to say the least.
Nothing will ever be the same again, and the sooner she comes to grips with that harsh truth, the better off she will be. No matter how hard she fights upstream towards the normal she once knew, the currents of change push her back even stronger. She must wrest back some semblance of routine from it, but try as she might, it has all been in for naught. Appearing before the council today showed her just as much. More teeth and claws will needed to sink deep into flesh as nothing less than sharpened edges will cut against their gold-tainted hearts. But where are her edges? She is all soft now.
The few times Dahlia has tried to go out into the Yard to train with her sword she has found that she is not cut from the same cloth as she used to be. How is it that she is still the same person who defeated Alduin almost two years ago?
And what sort of example is she setting for Sylvi?
Watery, hazel eyes turn softly towards her daughter as Dahlia bites her lip. She has no idea if she is doing the right things or not, and saying she is exhausted would be an understatement.
It is not that Ulfric isn't there to help her. He tries to spend as much time with the both of them as he can. Recently, he has even taken to reading aloud to both of them from the Yellow Book of Riddles at night. This has gone on every night for the past two weeks. Like Dwemer clockwork, Ulfric makes his way up to them right after sundown before she puts Sylvi to bed, and she is grateful. Not just for him making the effort to show his presence to their daughter, but also for being there for her.
More often than not after Sylvi finally drifts off, he spares a few moments for her, drawing her close and whispering sweet nothings into her ear before placing a kiss to her forehead.
Dahlia sighs and looks down at her daughter to see her squirming slightly, fighting sleep. "You're just like your dad when you do this. Do you know that?" She chuckles as she pushes back some of the wisps of her dark hair. "Would you like a song? Perhaps that will help lull you to sleep."
At first her voice is soft, half-wavering as she tries to pick out the melody her mother used to sing to her when she was a young girl, but soon fond memory coaxes out bolder timbres. Warmth of remembrance colors her words as her song spills through the room, reaching through the cracks and crevices of time as well as space. Her lips tilt up, held aloft by the notes her music, and she only soars higher-a crescendo built of happiness and glee. What pleasure she had forgotten! More pauses like this are needed, a change of pace to slow things down, lest the chords of life cause more dissonance in her life.
So engrossed is she in her song that she does not even hear the creak of the door nor the whisper of fabric as Ulfric enters the room minutes later. Silence follows him; he does not even close the door. Instead he stands still, only the light draft from outside ruffling the hem of his tunic as the sound of his wife's music flows through him.
While he has heard her sing many times before, there is something almost sacred about the moment put before him as if his very presence would be an intrusion. So he waits, standing there in the middle of the room and watching his wife as if gripped by some deep magic, and perhaps he is. Do the bards not put feeling into lyric and emotion into song? If someone told him that were true, Ulfric would believe it-He can see it plainly as day in front of him.
Her head turns to look at him, and she falters for a moment before beckoning for him to sit next to her. The song continues, now having drawn them all in harmoniously-a 3 part symphony finally complete.
Warm lips reach over to touch her neck, and her melody turns to a sigh before diminishing into silence once more. "You spoil me."
He shakes his head. "Quite the contrary. It is you who has spoiled me by giving me all of this, the world held on a silver platter."
"But let us not forget that it was the Divines who gifted you with your silver tongue."
"I speak nothing but the truth." Ulfric holds up his hands in of motion of truce before wrapping one of his arms around her and looking down at their daughter. "She looks so tiny and innocent. Would that I could keep her from the violence of the world and protect her from it."
"You know as well as I do what is coming and the inevitability of it."
"I do."
"And are you going to gift me with any more of your thoughts on that matter?"
Ulfric sighs as he pulls her closer. "I had hoped we could hide just a little bit longer from the turning wheel of fate, but unfortunately, it is not for people like us."
"Indeed, it is not." She looks to him, resigned to the truth at hand. "So, what are we going to do?"
As he looks into her eyes, a chorus of worry, uncertainty, and fear echo back to him. "What we have always done. Carry on our daily business as best as we can for the greater good of Skyrim."
"Yes, but-" Dahlia swallows as she fights against the urge to bite her lip. "What about Sylvi? You know as well as I do that she cannot stay here. She is not safe, and I cannot take her with me, not where I am going."
"What do you mean 'not to where you are going'?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Ulfric. It doesn't suit you." She clicks her tongue. "You know as well as I do that I will need to be on that battlefield."
"I will be going with-"
"Ulfric Stormcloak, I swear by all the Divines that if you finish that sentence..."
While the beginning of her reproach comes with all the force of her boiling rage, her voice falters, fizzling out towards the end to become nothing but a whisper halfway. Despite the hot frustration still churning within her, she knows that his heart is in the right place. Ulfric means well and has good intentions even if that is not always evident to those around him.
As Dahlia shuts her eyes, all she feels is bitter, stinging pain welling from within. "...I am too tired to fight, and I don't want to do this now. Please don't make me."
For a moment, it looks as if he will argue with her, his dark-rimmed eyes flashing with defiance back at her, but they too soon soften. "We will cross that bridge when we get there, my heart. For now, let us live in the present and allow the future to come in its own time."
At the sound of her quiet sobs, his hands reach out for her, wrapping her in his warmth.
"We are in desperate need of assistance, my King. As the thaws continue, the run off from the melt has been raising the rivers, and they threaten to overflow their banks. This has been the hottest Summer I can remember in..."
Ulfric lifts a hand, silencing the man in front of him, before moving to scratch his cheek. "We are well aware as this happens every year." He sighs, "While I know the situation appears to be particularly dire this year, some of the volume should have been relieved when the canal was dug out to help move supplies into Helgen. So, are you speaking the truth or-"
"Is there anyone else here who can attest to the situation?" Dahila's voice interrupts her husband's as she takes his hand and squeezes it lightly.
A few voices mumble in the crowd, yet none move forward, and she sighs. It's going to be another one of those painful mornings where they try to pluck the truth from their mouths like rotten teeth.
"No one?" Her eyes flick through the petitioners in the crowd. "Surely, at least one of you has been down to the Docks lately, or do I need to go out there myself?"
Ulfric's fingers rub against hers, a move equally as much out of affection as it is of impatience. "It would seem so." He turns to her with a knowing look in his eyes. They will end up there themselves sometime in the next week. "We'll check into the matter and see what what might need to be done." His other hand waves in the direction of his steward. "Jorleif, see to it that some sandbags are made. It would be good to have provisions just in case."
"Yes, sir. It will be done."
"And while we are on the subject, perhaps-"
A great clatter draws their attention to the front of the room as the doors to the Palace swing open. Ulfric furrows his brow as he drops Dahlia's hand and stands. No one is allowed entrance after the days' petitioners are accepted. What could possibly be the meaning of this?
"I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave. We are no longer taking new petitions for the day." He yells, his voice carrying through the hall with authority.
"Not even for an old friend?"
The voice which answers is not who Ulfric was expecting, and in a few moments more, he recognizes a familiar mop of blonde hair despite the red-tinged complexion underneath it.
"Ralof?" His eyebrows raise, scowl instantly disappearing at the sight of him. "Do you bring news?"
"Aye, that I do, my King. There is much for us to discuss."
"Then, if that is the case," he turns to address the room, "you will all have to leave your disputes with my steward."
Several of the citizens grumble under their breaths as they begrudgingly begin to form a line in front of Jorleif. While he is certain his steward will not be happy about this arrangement, that is what he pays him for.
"Come, Ralof. We'll meet in the War Room." He turns to his wife, "Could you go to the kitchens and bring Ralof something to eat before joining us?"
Under other circumstances Dahlia would protest, but she knows just from looking at Ralof that he has had a hard time and a hot meal would do him some good. She smiles and inclines her head towards him in greeting. "It is good to see you again, brother."
"As it is to see you too." He returns the smile before following Ulfric.
When he enters the room, it almost feels as if he had not left at all. There is the same familiar atmosphere-the smell of parchment, leather, and old stone which permeates the room. Truly, it is good for him to be back where he belongs.
"I am sorry for the delay in my return to Windhelm, my King. I had expected to be back here three weeks ago, but-"
Ulfric gestures for Ralof to sit as he pours him a goblet of mead. "There is nothing to apologize for. What is most important is that you are back, and you've accomplished the task given to you."
"If you say so." He reaches a hand up to scratch the back of his head uncertainly.
"So, what of Hammerfell? Tell me you have good news." The High King sits across from him, his eyes never leaving Ralof's as he leans forward in his chair.
Directly to the point, and all business underneath the outer façade. Of course, how could Ralof have expected anything different from him?
"They have agreed to fight along side us, but-"
Displeasure colors the sigh which escapes Ulfric's lips, and he picks up his own goblet of mead to sip from it. "Usually, I don't like what comes after a 'but'."
Ralof shakes his head. "And you are not going to like this. They want assurances that they are not alone, and that Skyrim will come to their aid in the future."
"What exactly does that mean?"
He bites his lip as he thinks about how he wants to word his next statement. "The Dragonborn is a powerful ally, and I told them as much."
"What's this about the Dragonborn?" Dahlia enters the room while carrying a platter of food. She sits its contents in front of Ralof before taking a seat next to her husband.
His eyes linger almost longingly on the stack of warm bread slices and cold sausages placed before him before he tears his gaze away to look at his queen. "Hammerfell has accepted our proposal."
"Then, this is good news. We have more on our side, and better yet, they already have experience with beating the Thalmor once." Dahlia's eyes flick between Ralof's and Ulfric's. "So, why is it then, dear husband, that it looks like you have bitten into a sour snowberry?"
"I was hoping that they would agree to help us without the obligation of you being at their beck and call. I do not like owing debts and much less when it is you who will pay the price."
She blinks, and a frown pulls at the corners of her lips. "I know you did not think you would get something out of nothing. That is not the Ulfric Stormcloak I know; however, the sentiment is appreciated."
"You should not have to."
"An alliance is built on a relationship of trust and reciprocity. I am willing to uphold my end as should you."
"That certainly does not mean I have to like it."
"And what do you like?" She lifts a brow.
He takes a moment to think, a teasing smile working its way onto his face. "You...and Sylvi. Sometimes Galmar."
"You know I am still here, right?" Ralof says between bites of the sandwich he composed out of the cold cuts in front of him. "Sylvi, eh? So, she's a girl then?" Ralof extends his hand to Ulfric who claps his own it firmly into his. "You've got your work cut out for you then."
"He certainly does." Dahila quips with a smirk.
"And when might I get to see her?"
"Uncle Ralof will get to see her once he has slept, eaten, and taken a bath. You stink worse than I did upon my return from Sovngarde."
"I take offense to that."
"As you should." She smiles at him fondly. "I have missed you, Ralof."
Truly, it is good to have him back, and as Ulfric looks between the two of them, he can see the affection they have for each other. Under other circumstances, he would bristle, and perhaps even threaten to toss him out for as much as a glance her way. Jealousy is a dark bubble, a reflex which he pushes down his throat to swallow proudly. It is good for his wife to have people who care for her so much and cherish her for who she is. He would never dream of taking that away from her.
However, at the same time, there is still serious business to conduct. While he hates to break them out from their moment, happy reunions will have to wait until later.
"Is there anything else we need to know?" Ulfric asks.
Ralof's lips pull themselves into a frown as he leans back in his seat. This was the part which he was dreading even if he knew it would inevitably come to this. "There is one other thing of concern which is of a certain urgency." A lump forms in his throat but somehow he pushes this next words past it. "There is a Thalmor agent who has been digging around."
A wash of cold fear falls over Ulfric, followed by the smoldering fog of rage. Red, red blood clouds his vision, and he does not even realize that he begins to stand from his seat. "What did you say?"
This was exactly what Ralof was afraid of, and as he looks over to Dahlia, he is almost certain that he would have jumped the table if she did not have a firm grasp on the High King's hand.
"Sit down, love."
Reluctantly, he lowers himself back into his seat, sitting on the very edge of it, and Ralof takes in a breath of relief before continuing. "I know that this news is upsetting-"
"It is more than upsetting. It is unacceptable! Do you know what their motives are? What they were doing or where did they come from?" He rubs a hand across his face tiredly with a sigh. "Although it is not as if we did not know that this would be coming."
"I believe him to be some sort of spy, but not one who carries out much dirty work. Perhaps, he was a plant left over from when the Empire freely allowed their agents in Solitude. That is where I ran into him for the first time." He looks to Dahlia and nods. "His name is Elisindir, and he was at the Bard's College when I dropped off Adonato's book. I had no reason at the time to believe he was a threat, but later I saw him sniffing around the Moot, and well, if he was at the Bard's College, then perhaps they had sent him to document the event...however, I ran into him again near the border."
Ulfric's eyes change from concern to caution, as they move from his wife back to Ralof, narrowing slightly. "And I don't suppose he was forthcoming as to what he was doing there? A few months ago, there was report of a High Elf who had left Imperial armor in the Gnisis...I am not one to believe in coincidences, but also not one to jump to conclusions."
"We were...not caught in the best of situations. A pack of wolves had set on us, and he was next to useless against them, which is one of the reasons why I believe he isn't a soldier or a regular Thalmor agent." Ralof scratches his beard. "What I could get out of him was that he had important business in Cyrodiil for the Bard's College. I also took this letter off of his person, but I have not looked it yet."
He hands the letter over to Ulfric whose eyes scan over it quickly before passing it to his wife.
Sow the seeds of discord, child, and for the love of Auri-El, do not get caught.. Remember it is the small acts of subversion put together which bring results. Divide and conquer. Ulfric will never know what hit him until it is too late.
-E
"...so this had to be who Ambarys spoke of. And who is E? We need to be cautions. If they've been in the city, who knows what could happen next or what else they've done?" Dahlia blanches, the color draining from her face.
"I will double the guard. No one will lay a hand on you nor Sylvi. This I promise you." He looks at her resolutely, squeezing her hand, before turning back to Ralof. "The Elves move slowly, and at this stage it is most likely that they are just gathering forces as they pull off these small acts, so we will still have some time. All this means is that we need to work even more quickly to put all our pieces into place first. This was valuable information, and after you've had time to clean yourself up and rest, I'd like you to follow him. See what you can find out for yourself."
Ralof bows his head to both of him before looking up at them, his eyes bright and shining with determination. "I will not fail you, my friends."