Cura and Lydia hurried to the stables outside of the city. The carriage driver nonchalantly picked the dirt under his fingernails as they approached.

"I can take ye to any o' the holds' capitals." he informed. "If ye have the coin, of course."

"Haafingar." Cura stated. "To Solitude."

"50 septims." the driver demanded.

Cura handed over the coin and sat inside.

368.

The Breton was becoming irritated. Not a good look.

"You ever met one of them cats? 'Kah-jeet' I think they call themselves. Heard there's whole countries of them down south." the carriage driver made idle banter as Lydia boarded.

"I've heard of the Khajiit." Cura admitted. "I've never spoken to one in person, though."

"Thieves, the lot of them." the driver said. "It's why we don't allow them into our cities: unless it be the prisons."

Cura brushed the driver's remarks off, and simply decided to stare off into the rolling fields around them. It would be a long ride ahead of them, and the path would be dangerous, especially with the Dragons about.

The Breton had to question herself and her malleability.

Why was she helping a Stormcloak family?

Was it only because she felt sorry for them, or was there something deeper going on? Perhaps a distaste for the Empire after how she was wrongfully sent to her death by them. Hadvar had proven that not all of them were bad, and she would wish him no ill, but she had to wonder if perhaps the Stormcloaks were right about the Empire.

After all, the Empire had always prided itself on its enlightened regency, and its judicial system, inspired by the teachings of Stendarr. Helgen was the antithesis of that.

It seemed Helgen was where everything changed. Until then, the Empire always made her feel safe. Now, she was seeing another side to them; a side she was not prepared to see.

Why had Thorald been arrested? Was it for a war crime? Was it for worshipping Talos in another City?

Avulstein hadn't specified, but if Cura were to judge Thorald for committing murder, she would have to clean her own lake first. She had killed several people in the last few days. More than she ever thought possible.

The introspection was killing her.

"Lydia." Cura reached out to her Housecarl, who had been daydreaming until then.

"Yes, my Thane?" she asked, collecting her mental faculties.

"I want to know more about you." Cura said sheepishly. "I want to know who my Housecarl is."

"Well, there's not much to say." Lydia shrugged.

"Tell me anyway." Cura leaned back slightly.

"I was born and raised in Whiterun." Lydia stated. "I tried to join the Companions, but they rejected me, as they thought my sword skills were lackluster, at best."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Cura mused. She hoped her being invited wouldn't make Lydia feel like less of a warrior.

"I've moved on." Lydia said dryly. "I was a Mercenary for a while, and Jarl Balgruuf was impressed with my work. He was going to assign me as the Guardian of his Children, but they were already safe with Hrongar and the Guards around." She gripped the side of the carriage, and looked at the river as they passed by. "So, when he appointed you Thane, I was assigned to you as your Housecarl. Some use for my talents-or lack thereof, I guess. Instead of being a renowned warrior, I am merely your Servant, sworn to carry your burdens."

Cura was silent, and she could see the irritation in Lydia's face. "Housecarl to the Dragonborn. It sounds so nice on paper, doesn't it?" Lydia chuckled. "Perhaps if the Dragonborn was Tiber Septim."

Cura took offense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No offense, my Thane," Lydia glared at her. "But you're not exactly the kind of Warrior one would be proud to serve."

Her bluntness shook Cura. "You think I'm inexperienced?"

"Yes." Lydia spouted back. "Inexperienced, naïve, a little sanctimonious, and soft. Not a Dragonborn. Not a warrior that I'd be proud to serve."

"I'll have you know, I've killed at least 10 people!" Cura blurted out defensively.

The Carriage Driver glanced over his shoulder at her, and Cura covered her mouth briefly. Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to state in the presence of a third party.

"And I've slain a Dragon! A Dragon!" Cura smacked her fist onto her hand.

"With half an entourage and a Companion on your side." Lydia said. "With all due respect, Ma'am, I don't think you'd survive a Dragon attack without a city behind you."

Cura sulked. "I wasn't trained to fight Dragons."

Lydia exhaled. "Okay, Thane."

After a moment of silence, Lydia decided to turn the question. "Would you tell me where you're from? What was your childhood like?"

Cura pursed her lips. "I was raised in the Pale, south of Dawnstar. In the Hall of the vigilant. You know that."

"Yes," Lydia trailed. "what was your training like?"

"Mostly with blunt weapons." Cura explained. "I've trained with a Warhammer, and a Mace. I also know a few Shield tactics. I studied in the Schools of Restoration and Alteration, and learned a ways of Alchemy. I also took initiative to learn to brew more than just Healing Potions and Cure Disease potions."

"That's well and good, Ma'am." Lydia stated. "But most people don't care much for the school of Restoration. Or magic, in general."

"I've never understood that." Cura stated. "Why do Nords hate magic so much?"

"Mostly superstition and the fact that the Elves use it." Lydia said plainly.

"Yes... that makes sense." Cura thought on it. "And about the Elves... these Thalmor..."

Lydia paused, waiting for Cura to finish her musings.

"...What do they want with Skyrim? Do they have something to do with the Dragons?"

"If they do, that's a terrifying prospect." Lydia exclaimed. "By Shor, I hope they don't."

"I saw the High Elves in Helgen, right before the Dragon attacked." Cura stated. "They were speaking to General Tullius. He knows them."

Then an interesting idea hit Cura.

What if she were to ask General Tullius about Northwatch Keep? If he could maybe convince the Elves to release Thorald. She had more than 300 gold. Maybe he would take a bribe? Though, there was the possibility that he would recognize her from Helgen a mere few days ago.

But to avoid making an enemy of the Thalmor? It could be a good idea.

Cura looked at the sky hopefully. "Maybe I can do this peacefully." She mused. "There won't be a need for bloodshed."

"My Thane?" Lydia questioned.

"Hmph. If you would have asked me a week ago about what I'd be doing today, I'd probably have said that I'd be cleaning the Hall. Yet, here I am... involving myself in matters I still don't know much about." Cura scratched her chin. "Fate is strange, perhaps."

Lydia shrugged. How could she defend this fool, when she only seemed to be capable of running into trouble?

The voyage was peaceful for the most part, as Wolves often avoided rushing carriages. The occasional Saber Cat had some ideas, but could not keep up with them

On the road, they had even seen Soldiers marching the wild pathways, and wild deer prancing the fields with Foxes and Rabbits.

The carriage went through Rorikstead, and Morthal taking bridge and trail, and then coming up towards Dragon Bridge.

"Here's a sight for ya," the driver stated. "Dragon Bridge-lotta talk in this town of battle an' history. Named after the bridge, I'm course." he motioned towards the bridge before them with a Dragon face carved out of stone. "Skyrim's had quite the history with Dragons."

"So I've been hearing." Cura said flatly.

A crude idea came to mind; how much money would Dragon bones be worth? Probably a lot. She kicked herself for abandoning the dead one in Whiterun.

They passed an Imperial checkpoint, and continued through the township, when suddenly, a Dragon attacked, riding down the mountain.

Cura and Lydia jumped in their seats when they heard the fearsome roar of impending destruction. The carriage itself shook from the momentum as the fiend flew overheard.

"FUS!" Cura shouted without a second's thought.

The violent gale hit the Dragon from close enough range to throw it off kilter enough to crash into one of the buildings, skimming off the roof.

The carriage came to a screeching halt when debris flew off the roof and almost hit it, causing the horses to panic.

Cura looked to Lydia, who was white like a ghost.

"I...I can't believe it..." Lydia trembled. "that's a... that's an actual..."

"A Dragon." Cura sneered. "Rotten fiend!"

The Dragon's Bridge Guards began to point their bows as the Dragon pulled itself up, and blasted a couple head-on with a breath of ice.

"If those Whiterun Guards could take down a Dragon, so can we!" One exclaimed as he shot an arrow into the Dragon's right eye.

Cura looked back at Lydia. "Cover me, Lydia!"

"My Thane!" Lydia exclaimed as Cura foolishly rushed the Dragon head-on.

The Breton ran under the Dragon's head and uppercut its jaw with her mace.

The people nearby were stunned at the inhuman strength this Breton exposited. What on Nirn was she?

Lydia knocked an arrow and fired it into the Dragon's mouth, splintering its tongue. As cold blood gushed out, one Guard lunged forward, bringing his sword down on its snout, drawing a large gash.

The Dragon responded by snapping him in its jaws, lifting him into the air and flailing him about in its teeth before tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The guard fell to the ground at Cura's feet, almost ramming into her. The Vigilant pivoted to the right in time to dodge the falling corpse, and rebounded by smashing the Dragon's cheek with her mace when it came down to bite her next.

Something was different about her.

The Breton felt more fierce, more alive. More powerful than she had during her last encounter. A fire burned within her that hadn't been there before.

One of the Soldiers called out to her. "Vigilant, to your right!" It was an Imperial Soldier wearing a distinctly different armour set from those she'd previously seen. His armour was red and black.

Cura heeded his call and dove to the right, and other soldiers in similar outfits riddled the Dragon with arrows, many splintering its scales and carving its hide. Cura approached from the side and smashed her mace down onto the Dragon's wing tip, breaking it at the joint.

The Dragon cried out in agony, and unloaded a large breath of ice towards Cura in response.

Lydia was quick on her feet, and rushed to Cura, standing between her and the freezing torrent. With her shield, she struggled against the ice breath, and her guard was broken causing the Nord to be enveloped in the violent mist.

"Lydia!" Cura cried out in shock as her follower fell to her knees and gasped for breath.

"My... Thane... run.. away..." Lydia heaved.

Cura knelt down in front of her as the Dragon was distracted by more arrows. She began to heal Lydia with her restorative abilities. "You'll be all right, don't worry... I won't let you die!" Cura assured her Housecarl as she replenished her life force.

"A Healing spell... are you a Priest?" Lydia asked as she slowly got back on her feet.

The Dragon was having none of the pleasantries, however, and bellowed violently, creating a storm of ice around it briefly as it breathed its ice towards the ground, causing it to spill out around it.

A few Soldiers were wounded by this strategic attack, and the Dragon saw the opportunity to attack the other soldiers who were further down the hill, firing arrows at it. When the Dragon tried to liftoff, it could not hover in the air, as its wing tip was shattered by Cura.

It tailwhipped one of the houses nearby, breaking apart the woodwork, causing sharp splinters to fly into a few soldiers flanking it from behind. The citizens inside of the house began to panic and scream, and quickly abandoned their crumbling home.

Cura was quick to act, creating a divide between the Dragon and the people. Again, she uppercut it in the face when it attempted to kill the citizens with a breath of ice. "No, you don't!" Cura shouted when she made contact.

The Dragon was furious, and attempted to ram its chin down on her. Cura was having none of it.

"FUS!"

She shouted again, the force strong enough to throttle the Dragon's head, knocking it off its trajectory and causing it to miss its mark. The fiend's chin rammed into the cobblestone road, and Cura mounted its head.

This time I'll be careful not to break my Mace. Cura thought as she began to calculate where to land her blows. The Dragon fought against the Breton, and she cursed her tiny frame. Of course this couldn't be easy. Why would it be? This was what made a Dragon a Dragon, right?

She balanced herself, grabbing onto the corner of its mouth as the Dragon attempted to breath Ice at the Soldiers. Cura used her mace and shattered one of the drake's teeth, causing the wyrm to howl in pain.

"Aim for the mouth, but watch the girl!" The commander shouted, pointing the the drake's open maw.

The soldiers did as they were instructed, and fired arrows into the Dragon's mouth, severing the internal tissues and layering spikes within its throat.

The dragon cried out in horrific agony as it thrashed about, trying to get the splinters out of its diaphragm with attempts of Ice breath, but it proved futile, as its throat began to fill with blood. Grotesque gargles filled the air as the fiend tried its best to shout.

Cura jumped off the beast as it drove itself into the cliff nearby, and flailed around before finally collapsing. Blood began to pool from the Dragon's mouth, and began to run downhill.

Cura maintained her balance when she landed, and the people nearby stared at her in awe. Lydia slowly began to approach her when the Dragon began to burn up and its flesh slowly stripped off its bones. Quickly, its spirit was split from its limp corpse, and dragged straight into Cura, who nearly lost her balance from the sheer force of which it was pulled towards her.

A surge of incredulous power, streaming into her blood.

The Breton's emerald eyes glowed with intense flames momentarily, before the spectacle ended, and they flickered out.

Lydia's jaw dropped. She had heard of tales of the Dragonborn, but to see such a thing in person was breathtaking.

This was the second time Cura had absorbed the soul of a Dragon.

The citizens of Dragon's Bridge gathered around, as well as the Imperial Soldiers and Haafingar Guards. A few stared at Cura in disbelief.

"It may be dead now, but where did it come from?"

A few people began to muse amongst themselves as to what this all could mean.

Cura walked over to the Dragon's Skeleton, and began to break pieces of its bone apart, and placed them in her bag, as well as a couple of scales. "That does that." Cura said, cleaning off her hands.

The Imperial Commander quickly approached her, and Cura was about to instinctively reach for her Mace. Lydia quickly placed a hand on hers, and shook her head, as if to tell her that it could easily be misinterpreted. The Vigilant relented, and took a light breath, "Yes?"

"You fought valiantly, Citizen." the commander began. "I am Commander Maro of the Penitus Oculatus, and on behalf of Dragon's Bridge, and Haafingar, I thank you for your help in our battle against that Dragon."

Cura was doe-eyed for a moment, but quickly calmed. "You're welcome." She looked around. "How are the damages?" She inquired. "Are the citizens all right?"

The Commander looked around him, and saw the trails of ice, blood on the road, and a partly destroyed building. "All things considered, it doesn't look too bad."

Cura nodded. "All right. Then I guess I'll just be on my way..."

"Where are you headed?" Maro asked out of curiosity.

"Solitude." Cura sapoke honestly. "I need to speak with General Tullius."

"He'll want to know about what happened here." He turned to one of the Haafingar Guards. "I'll send a letter to Castle Dour detailing everything that happened here. The Dragon attack, and the brave Vigilant of Stendarr who put it down for good."

Cura and Lydia looked at one another, then at Maro. Cura walked past him, and looked a the crowd of people, and saw that they were shaken, but alive. This pleased the Breton. It was a large improvement from the last two Dragon encounters. Property damage could be replaced, but lives cannot. She was pleased to see the large pile of Dragon bones in the road, but something felt off. She could still feel the beast's presence... but it was inside of her. A burning rage. Bitter resentment.

She could feel the first Dragon within her, as well, giving her strength, but tearing into her chest, burning in her heart. Coiling its claws around her mind.

A flicker of flame.

A vision of carnage. Civilians strewn about, bloodied, dead, and the living weeping in sheer horror, pleading for mercy on hand and knees. The Commander, torn asunder, wailing. Begging for a merciful death. A dark thrill she felt at the mental image.

Cura immediately snapped out of it, shaking her head.

No!

She grit her teeth in disgust.

The horrific image hurt her spirit, and the feeling of fiendish amusement cut her to her core.

"Are you all right, my Thane?" Lydia asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, breaking Cura out of her dark fantasy.

"Lydia..." She responded. "I... I'm all right. I'll be all right." She began to walk towards the carriage, which was hidden off to the side a distance away. The carriage driver was cowering beneath the vehicle, and crept out from under.

"Is it gone?" He asked.

"It's gone." Cura reassured him.

"By Shor, I thought we were goners!" He wiped the anxous sweat off his brow. Cura and Lydia boarded the carriage after Cura healed the Horses of their thankfully minor injuries.

As they settled in their seat, an Imperial Carriage went ahead of them, presumably sent by Commander Maro.

Cura kept her head down as the carriage continued on its intended path, around the Dragon Bones.

None of this should have been happening right now. She just wanted to go back to her past life, as one of the Vigilants, doing Field Patrols around the Pale, telling passersby to "Walk always in the light, or we will drag you to it." She had finally gotten the speech down, too.

"My Thane?" Lydia again snapped her out of her thoughts. Cura looked up at her, and Lydia continued. "I have to admit, it was impressive, how you fought that Dragon head-on. Your courage was inspiring."

"I hate them, Lydia." Cura rebuked. "It wasn't courage that drove me."

Lydia's face went to one of surprise.

"I didn't want to see another Town destroyed." Cura said. "Never again. I can't... I can't see that again..."

Her hands shook with the smell of burned flesh and blood seared in her memory. It always came back to Helgen. Her eyes shook with horror and sadness, and her Housecarl perceived this, leaning forward. "Ma'am..."

Cura's eyes began to water. "What am I doing?" She tried to hide her emotion, turning her face from her follower. "I can't do this, Lydia... I can't win this fight. I can't..."

Lydia was concerned, and a little confused as to what Cura was referring to. The Dragons, saving Thorald, the Civil War? She decided it were the better option to remain silent and give Cura her venting space.

"How am I supposed to defeat the World-Eater?" Cura asked. "I'm weak. I admit it."

"With all due respect, Ma'am," Lydia cut in. "you're being an idiot. You broke a Dragon's wing and tooth, and killed another before. That isn't weakness. You're the Dragonborn! You have the greatest honour, and power!"

"I never wanted to be the Dragonborn!" Cura exclaimed. "I just want to serve Stendarr, protect people, and guard the law of the land. Dragons need not be involved!"

"With Dragons here, people need the Dragonborn." Lydia gave her a reality check. "Look at Dragons as just another thing to fight against, with Daedra, Werewolves, Vampires, Witches, Draugr, Skeletons, and whatever else you fight against. Atronachs. I don't know."

"I hate that I have them inside of me..." Cura stated, clenching her Amulet of Stendarr before her breast. "I can feel them, Lydia... I feel their energy... their rage... I feel it constantly! It's maddening!" She nearly shrieked on the last word, causing Lydia, who was sitting directly in front of her, to flinch instinctively, grabbing onto the carriage.

The Breton calmed herself down with a deep breath and soft exhale. "I apologize."

Lydia shook her head, still visibly anxious. "It's all right." She said softly, trying to keep the situation under wraps. "Maybe the Companions can help you manage that."

"I need to return to the Hall of the Vigilant," Cura said plainly. "Keeper Carcette can help me... she'll know how to deal with this... I hope."

"Weren't you afraid to go back there without 1000 gold?" Lydia asked. "You've got 368 now."

"I'll say that I lost it in a Dragon attack." Cura said plainly. "How could she know?"

"From what I've heard of your Vigil," Lydia recounted. "your sorts are quite fanatical, and not very easy to reason with. I'm sure she'll be set in her ways. She'll think you failed your duty."

"Not when I show her the ash on my uniform." Cura showed off the char on the bottom of her robes, which formed a blackened tear heading up the fabric, surrounded by countless dried bloodstains and dirt. "You don't know Keeper Carcette. She's not as cruel as she lets on. She's a bit strict, yes, but she's fair. For the most part."

Lydia saw an opportunity to distract her Charge from her distress earlier. "We have some time before we reach Solitude ,my Thane." Lydia began. "Tell me more about your family... or what passes for one, I guess."

"Hmm.." Cura pressed a finger under her chin, in thought. "Well, there's Keeper Carcette, as I mentioned. She's a Breton, as well, actually! In fact, she's also blonde-haired like I am. I can't tell you how many times people have assumed we were related by blood."

"You're not?" Lydia crossed her arms. It was a little strange, imagining fanatics adopting a child off the road.

Cura shook her head. "She adopted me when I was very young, on the 18th of Morningstar. Taught me in the School of Restoration, and how to use a Warhammer and Mace. She's an Expert at the School of Restoration. I've never met anyone who knows more than her. She's also a connoisseuse of Blunt weapons. She always said it was a great way to relieve stress, cracking open the skull of a Hagraven."

She chuckled lightly, and then resumed. "Then, there's Vigilant Tolan; a big, strong Nord. He has a soft heart, and a lot of courage. I once saw him take on 4 Frost Trolls by himself! He also trained me, when Carcette was busy with internal affairs. He taught me some spells in the school of Alteration. Oakflesh, Waterbreathing, and Stoneflesh."

Lydia was surprised. It certainly wasn't often one would hear of a big, strong Nord studying magic.

"...And finally, there is Brother Adalvald; he's the most educated man in the Hall! He's the one who collected Books on Alchemy. He would also read me stories before bed-mostly History books concerning the empire, but Kolb and the Dragon was a fun one. I also spent a lot of time cutting firewood, tanning leather, and cooking with some of the other members of the Vigil, who would come an go with time." Cura smiled happily in recollection of her mentor. She cared a lot for Adalvald, and respected his wisdom greatly. He was always a beacon of light in dark times, a Dawn after the night.

She began to ponder some more, and decided perhaps she could bring the others up; those who were gone. "Well, there was Brother Celann, another Breton. He left a little while ago after arguing with Carcette about the financial situation, I think. I'm not sure exactly what the fight was about, but the Keeper was disheartened when he handed in his Amulet." She turned her Amulet to show Lydia what she was referring to.

"There's Brother Tyranus, too..." Cura thought. "I really haven't seen all that much of him. He comes and goes. He's a hard working Imperial, and goes on many dangerous ventures to earn money for the Hall, like I was doing."

"Sounds like your Vigil isn't doing well." Lydia noted.

"No, we're really not." Cura said in a low tone. "We're in a terrible location, to be honest. In the middle of a large, open field surrounded by Giants, Wolves, and Saber Cats. It's beneath a Daedric Shrine, too. Brother Adalvald thinks the Crypt in the mountain is cursed. Keeper Carcette thinks he's exaggerating. He once told me that he heard weird noises coming from inside it."

"What do you think?" Lydia asked.

"Maybe there could be Vampires hiding there." Cura shrugged. "Brother Adalvald is smart, if he thinks there's something there, there must be! Even if he's wrong, I think searching is a good idea. Just to be safe."

"And I guess Carcette couldn't be bothered." Lydia spoke dryly.

"I... suppose she feels it would be expensive to send troops into the cavern, and excavate it." Cura stated. "The Keeper is a little stubborn sometimes, but if this is how she wants to deal with it, I'll stand by her."

Then Cura remembered someone else, in particular. "Ah, yes! I forgot to mention Isran!" She snapped her fingers. "He was my first Trainer, when I was younger. A stoic and harsh Redguard. He wanted to excavate an old fort near Riften. He and the Keeper had a falling out because she didn't want to spend a lot of money on a fort that was on the other side of the Province. Carcette is stubborn, and so is Isran. After some arguing about finances, he stormed out and I haven't heard anything of him since." She shrugged. "He was worried about a growing Vampire threat, but now I think Dragons are more pressing."

"Still, a Fort would be better than the Headquarters you described." Lydia agreed with Isran. "Especially with the Dragon threat."

"It wasn't feasible at the time, I guess." Cura shrugged. "I never asked Keeper Carcette about our Money and Assets. I just know that we've never exactly had proper funding." A chill went down her spine. "But... you're right about the Dragon threat! Our base is at the base of a Mountain, and very visible... one Dragon would be enough to destroy the Hall, if what happened to the house back there was any sign."

She pointed backwards, gesturing back towards the house that was torn apart by one swing of the drake's tail.

It would be a good idea to inform the Vigil on the Dragons, and the threat that they posed.

After she got Thorald Gray-Mane out of Thalmor Prison, as it would be.

Soon enough, the carriage pulled up to a large city wall, North of a crossroads leading down to a Ship Harbour.

The walls of the city were triple the height of the walls of Whiterun. To Cura, who grew up in an open field, the mere sight of it was daunting; harrowing.

"You're just in time to say hello to Roggvir " one of the city guards before the entrance door informed her. His uniform matched the red ones in Dragon's Bridge. Haafingar was the Red zone, after all.

She had no idea who this 'Roggvir' was, but surely he must be in some trouble, judging by the Guard's tone. She stared at the Guard for a passing moment before entering the city. Immediately when she and Lydia passed the entry, there was a large crowd of people to the right of them.

On a small platform, a man in Prison rags stood above a basket with a Headsman behind him, running his finger down his axe in anticipation. Another Guard stood beside him to his right, but something was different about this one. He seemed higher in rank, as Cura could discern.

Cura remembered how that felt. Poor Roggvir, she could only presume. She only hoped for his sake that he wouldn't feel it.

It seemed beheadings were an Imperial favourite pastime.

A little blonde girl was pulling on her Mother's dress, pleading desperately. "They can't hurt uncle Roggvir. Tell them he didn't do it." She continued to shake the woman, and her Father, presumably, pulled her off.

"Svari, you need to go home. Go home and stay there until your mother comes." He instructed sternly, not wishing for the girl to bear witness to her Uncle's execution.

A brunette Breton woman chimed in unwarrantedly, spitting on the prisoner's honour. "You should tell her that her uncle is scum that betrayed his High King. Best she know now, Addvar."

Addvar, the girl's father, sneered at her. "You're all heart, Vivienne."

The Commander leaned forward, into the accused's face, peering deep into his soul with sorrowful daggers. "Roggvir. You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered High King Torygg. By opening that gate for Ulfric you betrayed the people of Solitude."

The people began to jeer and spit.

"Traitor!"

"He doesn't deserve to speak!"

Roggvir defended his choice vehemently. "There was no murder! Ulfric challenged Torygg. He beat the High King in fair combat." He addressed not only the Commander, but the people of Solitude as well, as he spoke.

"Liar!" An Altmer with hair tied in pigtails shouted out forcefully, ruffling her fine blue clothes.

"Booooo!"

"Booooo!"

Citizens all around jeered at him, and made lewd gestures with their hands from the back row.

Roggvir continued, ignoring the hatred around him. "Such as our way! Such as the ancient custom of Skyrim, and all Nords!"

Cura noticed how Lydia seemed to be becoming tense beside her. "Fair combat?" Lydia muttered. "He shouted the High king to pieces!" She gritted her teeth angrily. "Everyone knows that!"

Vivienne called out again, a sadistic anger sweeping her. "Cut him down!"

"Booooo!"

The Commander heard enough. He turned to the guard in front of the stage. "Guard. Prepare the prisoner."

Roggvir whirled to him, quickly and stubbornly. "I don't need your help." It was almost as if the man had been prepared for this moment for his entire life.

The Commander nodded, and halted the soldier before he could close in on Roggvir. He signaled for the people to calm down, and then turned back to the Prisoner, bidding him a silent farewell. "Very well, Roggvir. Bow your head."

Roggvir did as he was told. He slowly turned his face to the ground after looking one last time at Svari's Mother in the crowd. His voice momentarily broke. A slow sorrow escaped his lips, trailing with a veiled hope. "On this day... I go to Sovngarde."

SHUNK!

The axe came flying downwards, severing the Man's head clean off his neck. His limp body plummeted to the floor like a lifeless puppet as his head dropped on top of it, rolling across the floor and down the stairs, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. His Amulet of Talos fell off the stage and into the uncut grass below.

Lydia was silent, and Cura was a little saddened on the family's behalf. A part of her could not take her eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of her.

"Roggvir... why did it have to be like this?" His Sister said, her voice breaking with the threat of tears. Her husband took her into his arms and gently began to console her.

Vivienne seemed to be in a huff, when she noticed Cura staring at the scene. "A lovely first sight in Solitude, huh?" She remarked snidely.

Cura slowly turned her face away, snapping out of her stupor. "What?"

"Like the show? Always a pleasure to see justice served." Vivienne doubled down with the sardonicism.

"Why did they execute him?" Cura asked.

"You really don't know?" Vivienne's voice dripped with condescension. "He let Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude. Ulfric rides in, murders the High King and Roggvir lets him ride right back out."

"A duel isn't a murder, though." Cura stated. "If he agreed to fight, and they did, then it was simply a Skyrim custom."

"So, you agree with Roggvir. Don't let them hear that, for your sake." Vivienne crossed her arms.

"I can't judge the situation." Cura put simply. "I wasn't there to see what happened. I'm just going to move on." She paused for a second. "How do you take your mind off something like that...?"

"Most people head over to the Winking Skeever. If you're not interested in music or drink, you can at least talk to Corpulus. He can fill you in on any of the latest gossip." Vivienne explained.

"Thank you." Cura said politely.

Vivienne nodded. "Enjoy your stay in Solitude." She continued to walk off, and headed straight into the Alchemy Shop as she separated from the moving crowd.

Nobody seemed to notice the Amulet of Talos that had fallen into the gras, so Cura walked over to it and picked it up to give to Roggvir's sister, but when she looked around, the woman was already gone from the scene.

Cura looked at the Amulet in her hand. The man was brave enough to wear it in public in Solitude. Perhaps the Thalmor may have had sway in his execution. It could not just be for opening a gate. Maybe he was suspected of being a Stormcloak Sympathizer.

Castle Dour.

She had to get to Castle Dour to speak to General Tullius, and she had nearly forgotten. She looked around to find Lydia speaking to one of the Guards. The guard seemed to point Northward, and then Westward from his position near the town entrance door. Lydia nodded, and then approached Cura. "Castle Dour is up that ramp to the left, and then through the archway, to the left, in the Training Grounds."

Cura and Lydia followed the intended path and headed past a couple of Legion Soldiers and into the side door of a large stone fort. Castle Dour's interior was decorated with Imperial banners and had a very Cyrodiilic interior. Cura marvelled at the wonderful atmosphere that just emitted power all around.

General Tullius was there, in the flesh. Hunched over a map of the Province. Immediately, he looked up from the plans to see Cura at the doorway. "Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into the castle? Do you have some reason to be here, citizen?" He demanded sternly.

"General, I need your help in releasing a Prisoner from Northwatch Keep, in Thalmor Custody." Cura put it straight.

"The Thalmor? Do you have any idea what you're asking? I'm sorry, that's just not possible. It would cause far too many problems." General Tullius quickly shut the notion down.

Cura was about to continue, when their eyes met.

"Wait a second..." The General narrowed his eyes. "I remember you. You were at Helgen. A Prisoner, if I'm not mistaken. Perhaps I can direct you to the nearest Prison."

"I helped the Legion." Cura defended herself. "I helped Hadvar escape! He can vouch for me!"

"Hadvar's alive? I hope that's true. He's a damn good soldier. But he hasn't reported in yet, so he can't exactly confirm your story. In the meantime, why don't you have a chat with Legate Rikke? I suspect we might have use for someone resourceful like you. Not many survived Helgen. Besides, I'm sure your being imprisoned was all a terrible misunderstanding." General Tullius' attitude shifted to a more cordial one, as he dismissed the entire event.

Cura was flustered. "I'm not here to join the Legion."

"So, are you a Stormcloak?" Tullius demanded. "Here to assassinate me, perhaps?"

The guards immediately placed their hands on the hilts of their swords.

"Oh, please." Cura rolled her eyes. "I killed a Dragon. Do you really think I'm afraid of a few swords at this point?"

Suddenly, a look of realization came upon the General's face. "Ah, I see. You're the one Commander Maro wrote about. The Breton in the Vigilant get-up who had slain a Dragon over in Dragon's Bridge an hour ago. I just got the missive ten minutes ago."

Cura nodded. "Yes, that was me " She glared at the soldiers and they removed their hands from their swords.

That felt good.

"So..." Tullius placed a hand on the table. "what's your business with the Thalmor?"

Cura thought of the best cover lie she could. "Thorald Gray-Mane is suspected of having connections with a Werewolf in Eastmarch. I operate on behalf of the Vigil of Stendarr. We need to question him, learn about the threat. Keeper Carcette demands it."

"Damned idiots." Tullius muttered. "Gray-Manes are Stormcloak sympathizers, but to think they'd go as far as Daedra worship..." He clicked his tongue. "What these stupid Stormcloaks wouldn't do..."

Cura silently stood her ground, hoping Stendarr wouldn't hold it against her.

"Fine, then." Tullius relented. "I'll give you a Writ of Release. This will henceforth be a Vigil of Stendarr problem."

He took a missive and signed it, and then passed it to Cura. "The Thalmor should comply. At least this will turn their gaze away from the Empire should anything stupid happen by Thorald's actions."

Cura accepted the writ, and felt her heart fall out of place. This was a bad idea, but if she were to redact her proposal now, she could cause further issues. She simply gave him a half-bow and received it.

"Now, if you'd leave me to my war strategy, that'd be great." Tullius turned back to the map.

Northwatch Keep it is.

Lydia stood in front of the door and Cura waited for her to step aside, and the pair exited Castle Dour.

"My Thane, did you just..." Cura cut Lydia off quickly with a hush. The two walked through the city and out by the ramparts.

They were in open field, and heading up the Mountain, and Cura was cautiously silent.

"You lied to General Tullius!" Lydia was shocked. "That's a sin in your religion, isn't it?"

"All I've done since I left the Pale was sin." Cura spoke, disheartened.

Lydia had no retort.

"It must be my Dragon blood." Cura dismayed.

Lydia pitied the novice Paladin. It was clear that the Warrior life clashed with her Religious one, and she was not handling it well at all; and now, she was involved with the Stormcloaks and the Empire. The Vigilants of Stendarr were supposed to be apolitical, as paradoxical as it seemed, given their patron deity.

After scuffling with a few Wolves, Cura and Lydia descended the mountain in accordance with her map of the province, and Cura pinpointed a fortress by the seaside. Behind a rock, she saw Avulstein and a few other warriors, readying for battle.

"Ah, there you are!" Avulstein exclaimed. "I was beginning to think you chickened out."

"You're not seriously going in there." Cura furrowed her brow, surprised by the innate stupidity on display before her. "You, and your two friends... do you really think you'd stand a chance against perhaps thirty magic-using Thalmor?"

"Aye, we're Nords!" One of Avulstein's friends declared, as if it were evidence against her point.

"You'd be dead in six seconds." Cura dismissed him.

"You can handle Magic, can't you, Breton?" the other lackey asked. "Or are ye just a Milk-Drinker?"

Cura sneered, and Lydia stepped up in front of her. "Keep talking," Lydia demanded. "I'll have to defend my Thane's honour."

"Forget him, Lydia." Cura stated, and turned back to Avulstein. "I want you to wait here. I'll get Thorald back, without bloodshed."

Aulstein was taken aback. "What? You, alone, reasoning with the Thalmor? That's madness, friend. You're serious, aren't you? Very well. I'll give you a chance. But if you can't do it, I will."

"Milk-drinker!" Avulstein's friends cried out in unison, prompting him to hit them, and tell them to shut up, lest they get caught. He scoffed at Cura, and shook his head disapprovingly. "I think your plan is stupid." he said. "A true Nord stands his ground! Leave papers to the Imperials!"

"That's exactly what I had in mind." Cura said, as she walked from them and quickly approached the Keep.

Avulstein looked on, and his jaw nearly dropped. Pure insanity.

An elven soldier in golden armour carved to resemble wings and feathers stood guard before the Keep. Cura approached him directly. "Hello." Cura said with a friendly nod, doing her best to appear benign.

"You have no business here, so keep walking." the Altmer sneered dismissively.

Cura cleared her throat. "Actually, I do. On behalf of the Vigil of Stendarr," she flashed her Amulet of Stendarr so he could see it. "I have come for the Prisoner Thorald Gray-Mane. He is friend of a Werewolf, and helped the beast escape our custody last month. We've tracked his whereabouts to Northwatch Keep by Imperial informant. We will have to interrogate him ourselves."

"Are you joking? Even if we had a prisoner by that name, the only way he'd be released is by order of the Imperial Legion. Now I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came." The elf snubbed her once more, prompting Cura to take out the Writ given to her by General Tullius.

"An order like this, you mean?" She handed the writ to the elf, who began to read it.

"Hmmm..." he pondered. "Well, this seems to be in order. Very well, follow me."

He walked to the entrance door, and Cura followed him inside, Lydia close behind her.

"What is it the Vigilants do, exactly?" the guard made conversation as he lead Cura through the dismal halls of the keep. Many an Altmer glared at Cura with daggers as she passed by. She even heard a couple mutter "mongrel" and "half-breed" on the way past.

Lydia kept a watchful eye on all of them, and kept her hand near her sword, just in case.

"We guard the innocent civilians of Tamriel from Daedra and other Abominations that prey on mortals. Vampires, Werewolves, Witches. Our order was founded after the Oblivion Crisis, and we dedicate ourselves to maintaining peace."

"Quite." The Altmer said, unimpressed. "A Human response to Human errors."

Eventually, they came upon a torture chamber, where a man with white hair was shackled to a wall, beaten and bloodied, his outfit torn to pieces. Blood stained his clothing and the wall behind and beside him. Two other prisoners were strapped beside him. "Here he is." The elf led Cura past two more Elves, both who were wearing black and gold robes with hoods.

"Thorald Gray-Mane?" Cura called out.

The man looked up from the floor, half his face swollen. "What in Oblivion do you want with me?" he muttered.

"I'm taking you to the Hall of the Vigilant." Cura narrowed her eyes at him threateningly. "You have a lot to answer for." She clenched a hand on her mace's handle, and he scoffed in response, almost breaking her act.

"Wanna bash me? Go ahead." Thorald chuckled. "I've already been down that road a'plenty."

"Come with me peacefully, and you'll have one less." Cura informed him, as she began to undo his shackles under Thalmor watch. She took a rope off the table nearby and began to bind his hands together behind his back, and she escorted him out of the Chamber, and out of the Keep, occasionally shoving him aggressively. Most of the Altmer sneered and gestured for them to begone upon passage.

She dragged him out through the snow, and Lydia kept behind him, her sword drawn, until they were well beyond distant from Northwatch Keep.

"Urg!" Thorald grunted, as his battered and weakened legs finally gave in, causing him to fumble into the snow.

Cura leaned down in front of him, and he spat at her. Cura flinched from the splash of saliva on her cheek, and quickly wiped it, "Eugh! Was that nexcessary?" She asked, perturbedly.

"You may as well kill me here, Vigilant! If you think I-" Thorald huffed from his exertion before continuing. "I ain't done nothing Daedra-related!"

"I know." Cura told him.

This confused Thorald.

"Let me heal your legs." Cura said, pointing to his wounded limbs. Thorald was confused, but allowed her to do so. A golden light emanated from her hands, and enveloped his injuries, sealing them up.

"How long have you been chained up?" Cura asked as Lydia began to untie his bonds.

"Gods, I've lost count of the days. It felt like an age has passed. I wish I could believe that I'd have held out forever against their torture, but I can't be so sure. Now thanks to you I needn't worry anymore." Thorald breathed a sigh of relief, realizing now that this was a friendly face. "I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me from this place. I suspect I'd never again see the light of day otherwise. But why would you risk your life for me, a stranger?"

Cura scratched the back of her neck, feeling awkward in explaining it. "Your family was concerned for you. I was a sucker enough to help."

"Of course. I should've known. Avulstein was behind this, wasn't he?" Thorald smirked, amused by the lengths his Brother would go to for him. "Well, I will say this; I guess the Vigil of Stendarr ain't so bad after all. You have some decent people in your ranks."

The Breton was becoming irritated by the horrible impression people had of the Vigil. They were only trying to help, after all.

"What do the Thalmor want with you?" Cura asked, hoping to finally get some answers to what she was dealing with.

"I'm not sure." Thorald admitted. "At first they accused me of being a Stormcloak, and a secret Talos worshipper. They wanted a confession. To what didn't matter, they simply wanted me to admit to something. I think they wanted to break me. Use me as a way to get to the rest of the Gray-Mane family. I have them no such pleasure."

Cura closed her eyes, and nodded, understanding his plight very well.

"Thorald? Thorald!" Avulstein cried out as he embraced his brother quickly.

"I cannot stay. Not here, not in Whiterun. It likely won't be safe for Avulstein, either." Thorald professed. "Our best hope now is to fall in with the ranks of the Stormcloaks... But would you do me a favor? Tell my mother to suffer the winter's cold wind, for it bears aloft next summer's seeds. She'll know what it means."

Cura nodded. "I'll tell her. Don't worry about it."

Thorald was joyful. "And... thank you. Were it not for you, I'd have died in there. I'm sure of it. I'd rather die in battle, like a true Nord!"

Avulstein turned to the Breton. "I don't know what the hell you did, but it worked. I guess I underestimated you, Breton." he extended a hand to her for a firm shake, and Cura took it.

"I suppose I won't be seeing you again." Cura mused.

"Probably not." Avulstein admitted.

"Can you do me a favour?" Cura asked, looking to both brothers.

"Anything!" Thorald exclaimed.

"Stay in the background of the war." she asked. "Don't let your name be heard, Thorald. Otherwise, the Hall of the Vigilant will have a lot to answer for."

"Aye," Thorald understood. "I can do that. It's not glory in name I'm after, but glory in freedom."

Cura nodded. "I'll hold you to that. Take care, now."

The brothers nodded, and then ran off towards the mountain.

Cura watched them slowly disappear, before realizing that she and Lydia were now standing in the middle of a frozen hillside.

Still, her body was filled with a warm feeling: perhaps it was from reuniting the two brothers, or perhaps it was from onset hypothermia.

Cura had her options laid out for her: she could head south to Solitude, and enjoy slightly warmer weather before heading back to the lovely Whiterun, or she could light a flame and traverse the mountains East, to Dawnstar, and give her 368 gold to Carcette and just cut her losses.

"Where to now, my Thane?" the silent Lydia asked.

"Dawnstar." Cura stated.

Lydia looked at the mountainous horizon to the East. "As you wish, my Thane."

Cura smiled and lit a fire with her left hand, and gestured for her Housecarl to come closer, to stay warm under the frozen sky.