The valor of man should have won us the war, that day.
It didn't.
Stormclouds loomed ahead, wind struck and howled. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed in the skies. It was as if the heavens themselves were weeping. Under the darkness, figures gathered around a table. These figures were clad in armor of Ancient Roman fame, bright red plumed helmets hung loosely on their belts or placed on the table itself. The table had a map of brown leathery parchment, showcasing a grand city surrounded by lake.
Cyrodiil.
"This is taking too long," one of the figures growled, His arms were crossed, a great blonde beard under his chin. "We smashed the damned Elves. What else needs to be said?"
Another figure, his armor richer than the rest, turned to the first speaker, He was just as tall as him, blonde and blue-eyed though his hair was kept short and his face did not have a beard. He spoke with an accent, thick to the ears and deep. "Patience, Hrongar. The details of the White-Gold Concordat will be revealed to us soon. Negotiation takes time, you know."
"Bah, Balgruuf!" spat Hrongar. "We annihilated the elves, their Lord hangs from the White-Gold Tower. Surely, there is nothing else to discuss!"
A nod of agreements broke around the room. By Shor, they were all bloodied as they spoke. Bits of brain matter and blood still in some places of their armor. But Balgruuf did not share their fine spirits. His face was kept in a stoic resolve. "We face the High Elves, brother. They are far from simple to negotiate."
It was then, a knock came upon the door. Balgruuf glanced up and barked. "It opens!"
The door swung open and in came a legionary. She was clad in a brown lamellar compared to the steel plate the others in the room sported. Her allegiance was clear however with the dragon of the Empire emblazoned firmly on her belt and helmet. She saluted Balgruuf and spoke, her voice a sultry low. "Tribune Balgruuf, I bring a report. All officers are to enter the courtyard. The details of the Concordat are to be proclaimed."
Expectant looks were shared among the men. Hrongar moved forward impatiently. "Finally!" he growled, marching out of the room followed by the others. Balgruuf sighed and gathered his helmet before marching out. He stopped right next to the legionary however and whispered.
"Irileth. Have you heard about its details?"
The legionary, a dark elf, shook her head. "No, Legate. The messenger refused to part with the scroll. He insists that everyone should hear it."
Balgruuf took the information carefully. "Very well. After me, then."
"As you command," Irileth replied dronily. And so, Balgruuf walked ahead through a corridor alit only with torches. It had seen better days. The stone was old, the wood supporting the ceiling looked as if it was going to collapse and only masterful craftsmanship held it together. A worrying sign that even before all this, things weren't looking any better.
The two left the corridor onto a courtyard where legionnaires were gathered before a statue of a warrior, a winged helm on his head as he struck a serpent below him with his sword. Underneath the statue, a legionnaire stood above a box, a red-cloak over his shoulder. He was in the middle of speaking to a mixed crowd coming from all the provinces of the Empire when Balgruuf and Irileth had arrived. They mixed with dour Nords, stout Redguards. Orcs, Bretons. Even some elves.
"...and here be the proclamation of the White-Gold Concordat, signed by the Emperor Titus Mede and the Elder Council!" he read aloud for the benefit of the crowd. They leaned in, anticipation in their eyes and ears. It was clear the red-cloak was reading ahead to make sure he did not mince his words. And as he read, the more pale he became.
"Well? Out with it!" Hrongar yelled.
Taking a breath, the red-cloaks voice was nervous and shaky as he begun. "To end the h-hostilites between the Empire and the Aldmeri D-Dominion, the agreed terms are t-to be observed." He paused, gulping as the Nords took a step forward. He continued, shock in his voice. "S-southern Hammerfell i-is to be ceded to the Aldmeri D-Dominion. The Blades as an organization is to be disbanded and..."
Silence descended in the courtyard as the news was broken. Not a sound could be heard, save for the howling winds.
"...the worship of Talos...banned."
Shouts broke immediately. The Nords turned from pale to red, yelling at the red-cloak who was doing his best to look small. The Redguards in the crowd joined in, abuse hurled at the poor man, a Breton by the looks of him.
"Silence!" Balgruuf suddenly roared, his voice carrying over their yelling and screaming. The men and women obeyed immediately, their discipline as legionaries coming first. He turned to the red-cloak and nodded at him to continue. The man shakily did so.
"All l-legionnaires, auxiliaries, and allies are to be compensated for their service," the red-cloak continued. "Gifts of land and treasure will be given freely as thanks. May this Concordat ensure peace in our time. Long Live the Empire!" he finished weakly.
The crowd did not reply immediately. Their mood far from praising or celebratory. By their looks, they wanted to murder the man. Sighing, Balgruuf took a step forward. "Long live the Empire!" he yelled. His shout was taken up by the crowd, weak and brimming with discontent. At that, the red-cloak climbed off his box and swiftly made his way out underneath hateful glares. Balgruuf was not done yet. Turning back, he gave his orders.
"Back to barracks and await further instructions! Officers, with me!" Balgruuf ordered. The legionaries obeyed, grumbling underneath their breaths. Shaking his head once more, Balgruuf turned and headed back to the corridor he left, a host of steel-clad men and women after him. The filtered into the room where they had left, each officer heading for the seats and places they occupied before. Balgruuf shared a look with Irileth who nodded and went to close the door behind them.
And as the door closed, the screaming began.
"How? How could this have happened!"
"We gave our blood and lives for the Empire? This is our thanks?"
"I say, we march up to the Imperial Palace, and show the Emperor exactly how we feel!"
A swift, gauntleted hand crashed against the table, silencing all dissent. Balgruuf spoke, calmly. "There will be no talks of marching to the Palace. Suggest such treason again, I will kill you. Understood?"
The officers stayed quiet, then nodded hesitantly. The man before them had a name. Elfsbane. They saw how he earned it. They were not going to find out if it extended to Men. Taking another breath, Balgruuf pulled back his hand. "Now, we must talk facts, about the Concordat."
"The Emperor lost his mind!" Hrongar roared. "What was the point to all this fighting if he was just going to accept the Dominion's ultimatum anyway?"
"And be a coward for all time?" Balgruuf bit back. "Better to have fought for it than meekly giving in."
"But Hammerfell? The banning of Talos? The Ninth Divine? That is not something that can be ignored, brother!" Hrongar argued. Nods of affirmation broke out among the officers.
"And it won't," agreed Balgruuf. "However, you must think, Hrongar. Five years, Cyrodiil has been at war. Look around you! Outside the window! Can Cyrodiil support an offensive into Elsweyer and Valenwood?"
Hrongar did so. The room they were in stank of stale air, the wood was old and the room was bare of anything. Outside, the firelights of army camps illuminated ruins and ashes, poor souls begging legionaries for anything to feed themselves. He snarled in frustration. Still, Balgruuf kept his voice calm.
"We cannot prosecute war, not with Cyrodiil so ruined and legionary posts near empty." Balgruuf said, his voice pained. He took a breath. "However, there are facts that are as clear as day. Our heartlands in High Rock and Skyrim remain untouched. The Emperor still lives and we still possess the finest fighting force in Tamriel."
Balgruuf lowered himself, still quite above this officers but enough to be at their level. His face was soft, gentle even. "Throughout all this, through our sacrifice and our skills, we showed ourselves strong. We did not give up, we did not waiver before the Elves and their battle-magic. Lord Naarfin, their commander, he hangs from the highest peak in the White-Gold Tower!"
He shook his head. "Through this, the Elves may think that they have triumphed but we have shown to them that their 'victory' came at a cost. How many did they lose from this battle? Can the Elves replenish their losses quicker than us? Can their craftsmen and artisans craft weapons faster than us?"
"...No. It would take time. Elves are expensive, the people themselves and their equipment," Hrongar sighed. He glanced at the jewelled necklace hanging around his neck, taken from a fallen Elven officer. It shone with a faint blue aura.
Magic.
"Exactly. As bitter as the terms are, this is also a chance, my friends. A chance to rebuild. The elves attacked us when the Legion was suffering from inaction, from corruption, from the lack of resources. And still, they bled! Imagine then, a reborn Legion, run by the veterans of this war, with better training, more men, more skills. How I pity the elves from the trashing we shall give them!"
Chuckles broke around. It was true that the Legion at the start of the war was a pale remnant compared to its heydays. But they still fought. Balgruuf took a breath. "And so, let us rebuild. Let us heal the wounds of war. We go home to rebuild, to our families. We earned a rest. And even better, we have treasures from the Emperor himself. If anything, he isn't leaving this place richer."
The chuckles became bitter. Oh, they would have honors and treasures aplenty. But they would also have bitter news as well. Balgruuf sighed as he rested his hands on his knees. "Tell the men that by tomorrow, they will have a free day. Rest, recover. We all need it. This isn't over. I promise you, friends. In the future, we will take the fight to their land, to their people, to their blood."
Balgruuf ended his speech with bloodthirsty sincerity. His eyes were alit with barely-constrained hate. But then, it settled as he sighed. "Dismissed," he ordered. The officers saluted him and left, one by one. Only Hrongar and Irileth remained.
Hrongar groaned, leaning back against a wall and slowly collapsing with his back against it. "What are we going to do, brother?"
Balgruuf stood up from where he had sat and joined Hrongar. His face was conflicted as he leaned back as well. From where she stood, Irileth stayed quiet. A part of her felt that she had to leave the room and let the brothers have their moment but she wasn't dismissed. It would be rude and undisciplined to sneak out without orders.
"We take our gifts and treasures, we go home. We prepare Skyrim for what is to come." Baglruuf said.
"Damn the Elves. Damn them for starting this war," cursed Hrongar. He blinked, glancing towards Irileth. "No offense, Dunmer."
"None taken, Tribune." Irileth added gracefully. "They are High Elves, not Dark Elves. There is a difference."
Hrongar laughed, shaking his head. His joy was short-lived. Reaching into the fold of his armor, Hrongar pulled out a paper and lent it to Balgruuf.
"What is this?" Baglruuf asked, taking the paper.
"Just read it," Hrongar said with a small smile. Balgruuf did so, silently going through its contents. As he did so, a smile formed on his face. A smile that became larger and larger. With a great cheer, Balgruuf clapped Hrongar on the back.
"Congratulations!" Balgruuf cheered. "Looks like little Hrongar works after all!"
"Of course it did. Dragonsreach heard little Lydia's cries." Hrongar said with fatherly pride. "She is going to grow up a terror, just like her mother. I look forward to returning."
At the mention of Dragonsreach, Irileth could spy something coming onto Balgruuf's face. As if sheer terror flashed in his eyes. It was something she was going to note. It was gone as quickly as it appeared however as Balgruuf clasped Hrongar's back again. "Yes. We must return to Dragonsreach, as soon as we can. I miss good mead, and fine roasts."
"I miss my wife. And I long to hold little Lydia in my arms." Hrongar said, standing up. Balgruuf joined him. "I suppose I shall prepare to gather our Household Guard, and dismiss the others?"
"We shall have to wait for official dismissal from our fine leaders first. But make preparations. Also, ask the men if they would be willing to come with us back to Whiterun. I imagine there will be folk who would like to live away from this chaos." Balgruuf suggested. Hrongar nodded.
"I shall see it done. Divines, I need a drink," Hrongar muttered as he made to move to the outside. Irileth quickly opened the door to let the Nord out and she closed as quickly. She sighed, turning towards Balgruuf. He looked like he aged.
"You look like hammered Guar shit," Irileth commented gracefully.
"War does that to you," Balgruuf said, his eyes meeting with hers. "It turns men ugly."
"You aren't ugly. Not to me, at least." Irileth said, her hands reaching for the lock on the door. She walked over to Balgruuf, making sure her hips swayed sensually with each step. Balgruuf stood up, a glint in his eyes.
"Is that so?" Balgruuf asked, his voice a tease.
"Mm," nodded Irileth, coming closer and closer until she stood before Balgruuf. Her breasts felt hot under her armor, constrained too. A fire between her legs, alit long ago, burned. Irileth had been fighting her urges for a long time.
And this time, she was going to surrender to them.
Passion. Nothing else but that echoed in the room. When it was over, they glanced towards each other.
"I love you," they whispered.
As they spoke up, a loud knock came at the door. With speed that would put the fastest elf to shame, the two moved to make themselves as presentable as possible. Irileth quickly walked up to the door, limping as she did so, and opened it.
Hrongar walked in, blinking. He glanced at the Dunmer, noting her flushed cheeks. Then to Balgruuf who was trying his best to look outside the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
To Irileth's horror, Hrongar sniffed.
And smiled, as understanding came to his face.
"Well!" he clapped. He turned towards Balgruuf. "Before I let you consult with your nightblade, brother, I must tell you that a man from General Jonna has come. He is asking to meet you to make a tally of all the men here."
He grinned. "Shall I...inform him that you will see him in a hour or two?"
"...Fifteen minutes," Balgruuf replied gracefully, his hands shaking.
Hrongar snorted. "Milk-drinker. Freydis and I would be at it for ho-"
"Thank you, Hrongar! Now go!"
The following days were a hectic matter of de-mobilization and reconstruction. There were no more Dominion forces left in Cyrodiil, a great many of them slaughtered by the vengeful Imperial Legion during the Battle of the Red Ring or otherwise rounded up by angry citizens. A great many Altmer found their magics or fine armor little use as angry mobs surrounded them.
And they had a right to be angry.
Five years of total war had seen Cyrodiil turned from the jewel of the Empire to a blasted wasteland. The Imperial City had to be stormed for the final remnants of Lord Naarfin's army to be destroyed utterly. Boulevards and streets once known for art and music were empty and littered with debris, magicka residue still burning on walls and streets. The outskirts fared no better either. Armies were monsters that drained anything within its reach. There was no more green, just gray ruined ash. Carrion birds littered the air, feasting on rotting corpses yet to be buried.
It was through these ruined hellscape rode Balgruuf and his cohort. Dejection hung heavy in the air. Each sorrowful cart running along with rickety wheels and half-staved animals of burden. Slouched legionaries marching underneath crimson banners, a shadow underneath their helms. Begging civilians at the side of the road, hoping and praying for handout.
It was miserable. And it was a misery Balgruuf was eager to leave behind. He did no want to stay in Cyrodiil for long. As he saw it, his time was short. What the Empire did not know, he did. Hammerfell's southern regions were under the thumb of the Elves but their control of it was shaky at best as the Redguards would throw everything they had into kicking the invaders out. He could remember that there was one Redguard city still standing but the name of it escaped him. The Redguards of his cohort, he allowed them to leave and return to their homeland as soon as possible. He was not going to stop them from defending their home.
"Thinking again?" Hrongar asked, riding up next to Balgruuf. Irileth was at his side, quietly noting the road ahead of them with keen eyes. Balgruuf nodded, his hands on the reins of his horse.
"Aye. Just thinking about the situation the Empire is facing, and what we will have to do once we return home," Balgruuf said, letting his thoughts known.
"Ugh, Balgruuf, the war is over. You can allow yourself a day and a night to relax, brother," Hrongar reminded him. "I appreciate the energy but please, the elves will have to lick their wounds too."
"Oh no, they won't. They will have to deal with the fury of the Redguards," Balgruuf replied, chuckling darkly. "And they will be forced to spend more resources trying to assert control over a wild land with a people that hate being controlled."
Everyone knew the martial prowess of the Redguards. And how even Tiber Septim himself struggled to bring the desert kingdom to heel.
"They will be bled hard," Hrongar said, shaking his head.
"And the worse it goes for them, the better it shall be for us," nodded Balgruuf. In the distance, the White-Gold Tower loomed. It's shadow was rapidly decreasing however for the cohort was heading north, to Bruma. Ahnd from there, the Colovian Highlands. The Dominion hadn't given the North attention as they mostly focused their efforts in the south but still, it bore the scars of war. The pitiful carts and refugees thronged the road as a river of misery.
"I cannot wait to leave this all behind," Hrongar muttered. "I miss hunting. I miss Whiterun. Divines, I could even go for a mammoth steak by now."
"Don't forget your family," Balgruuf teased. "I don't imagine your wife would be pleased at the idea of you being distracted by food."
Hrongar laughed, shaking his head. "Oh please, brother! Freydis would agree with me! You should see her how she eats! That woman could finish a steak with its meat fresh off the bone."
"You are fortunate you married a woman whose manners at the table are the same as yours," chuckled Balgruuf. "I don't imagine a Breton or Imperial wife would be pleased at your interesting table dynamics."
A harsh barking laugh left Hrongar's lips. "Hah! The best women will always be Nordic, Balgruuf!" With a flourish, Hrongar leered as he mimicked a woman's curves in the air. "Tall, thick, and with thighs to crush any man's head. Breasts plump like melons and with filling milk that can turn a boy into a man!"
From her seat, Irileth rolled her eyes at his vulgar display. Balgruuf coughed awkwardly. "Well, uh, thank you for the vivid description, Hrongar."
"I judge not your tastes in women, brother. I ask that you do not judge mine," the bear of a man sniffed. He leaned in, pulling a drinking horn from his saddle pack. With a plop, he opened it and drank what was inside. It did not take long however as he pulled the vessel out of his mouth. "I need a refill, and soon."
"You can refill at Bruma. General Jonna is discharging the Nordic legions there," Balgruuf said, recalling the words Jonna's man had exchanged with him the other night. And so they moved on, another pair of souls seeking rest in their homelands.
Bruma was untouched for most of the war, the Emperor himself sheltering in the city. As such, it and the hamlets around were held up and healthy, as much as they could be. Bruma Castle loomed in the distance, as well as the spires of the Great Chapel of Talos. It's name would be different now, thanks to the stipulations of the Concordat. Personally, Balgruuf wasn't particularly religious at first towards the Divines. His belief only grew however for miracle after miracle, their works had healed and protected not just him but the men under his command.
And now, one of the Divines he had grown to respect and adore could not be worshipped anymore. He didn't mind that since he would just do it privately anyway. That was the sensible thing to do in this situation. But when it came to people's belief, sense was far from their minds. And that sentiment was clear as they entered through the city gates and passed along the streets. In a cart in the corner, books and other items related to the worship of Talos were being rounded up, all under the eye of a populace who had worshipped Talos for most of their lives.
"I can taste the tension," Balgruuf whispered as they passed it by.
"Talos has been forbidden. What do you think people should feel?" Hrongar hissed, his knuckles turning pale white from barely-restrained rage.
"Like hell that is going to stop me," Balgruuf said. "I already have a plan for that for when we return home."
"Oh really? And what is that?" Hrongar asked, curious. Balgruuf explained promptly.
"Well, the big statue of Talos at Whiterun, we can always just rename it as a statue of Tiber Septim, the Emperor. Not Tiber Septim, the god. The artifacts of worship, well, we could repurpose it too. Say, we fund a small museum and keep them there. It shall no longer be religious items of worship but relics of the past. Surely, the elves wouldn't be so presumptuous as to stop us from learning about our great ancestor, would they?" He finished with a leer.
"That is mad," Hrongar muttered. He blinked, thinking it through. "But...I suppose it can work. The Concordat stated that the worship of Talos is banned. If we place it into a museum or repurpose it for other ends...then we aren't exactly worshipping it, eh?"
He smiled. "It could work."
Balgruuf smiled thinly. "The Elves are always so stingy about details. Well, let's see them try to argue about that."
"Damned knife-ear piss-stained inbred prigs!" growled Hrongar. "Curse them!" He took a breath, noting how quiet Irileth was being. "No offense, Dunmer."
With grace, Irileth replied. "None taken, sera. My people are so far removed from the Altmer a long time ago, we are different now. And besides, the Altmer hate us too. You will find no complaints from me."
"You know, it occurs to me that I never really spoke much with you, night-blade." Hrongar noted. Irileth shrugged.
"The Legate oft had me serve as his spy, Lord Hrongar. I was rarely at camp, if at all." she explained.
"Right. His spy," Hrongar said, nodding. "And nothing more?"
"Nothing more people need know," Irileth smiled thinly.
"Well!" Balgruuf clapped. "Irileth, please ride ahead and secure room and board for us, The men are hungry and thirsty."
"Yes, Legate." the Dunmer bowed before riding off. As she did, Hrongar noted the wistful look on his brother's face as the Dunmer rode off. As she disappeared from view, he drove his horse closer. His face was neutral as he considered his words.
"So, you and her?" he asked quietly.
"Aye," Balgruuf said, not looking away. He offered his brother a single look. "And what of it?"
"I care not, brother. She has fought with us good and well, ever since you sprang her from captivity." Hrongar said truthfully. He really gave no shits if his brother liked quim from a mer or a man. He was however concerned for what it might mean. "It is simply the fact that when we return, you will be expected to marry. You are father's heir. The eldest."
"I already have an heir, you." Balgruuf said, his voice rising a little.
"But that is not the same," Hrongar shook his head. "The people will rest easier knowing that the next Jarl has a child."
"We will cross that bridge when we get there," Balgruuf said, his voice brooking no argument. "And besides, you said that we must rest easy for now, yes? Then let us rest easy and we can worry about that some other time."
"Very well, brother. Just...just know that I have your back, alright?" Hrongar offered.
"Thank you, Hrongar." Balgruuf smiled. "Truly."
"I'm your brother, fool. Damn right I have your back."
The city was already filled. Taverns, inns, resthouses, all were overloaded either by soldiers or refugees. Others with no choice had to camp it out in the streets, large fires being the only thing that kept them from shivering in their sleep in their little miserable tents. Despite Irileth's best efforts, they had little choice but to camp it out. Their status as legionnaires afforded them shelter inside Castle Bruma however.
The courtyard had seen better days, with numerous legionary tents all raised on the ground. As an officer as well as being the son of a major Jarl should have afforded Balgruuf a room inside the Castle where it was warmer and the food better.
However, Balgruuf did not want to leave his men.
They were afforded a sizeable corner to raise tents in and their horses were all stabled away, feasting on hay. The riders however had to contend shivering under the snow of Bruma, thick fur blankets wrapped around their armor and large communal fires warming their skin. Balgruuf was hunched over his seat, writing down onto a notebook when Hrongar arrived, a basket in one hand and a tray in the other. Irileth was strangely absent however.
"Food, you jackals. I bring food," announced Hrongar as he lowered his items on a nearby table. The basket smelt of bread while the tray had an assortment of meats to be shared. He cocked his head, noting Balgruuf hunched over his notebook.
"Oi, Balgruuf. Food." Hrongar repeated yet again. Blinking, Balgruuf looked up. "Hm? Oh, uh, thank you. Eat first." He paused. "Have the men eaten as well?"
Hrongar grunted as he lowered himself on a chair and began helping himself to the food. He munched first on a loaf before talking. "Aye. They are eating already. Shivering, but eating."
Balgruuf gave a non-commital grunt as he yawned, setting his notebook aside. This, Hrongar noted. "So, what's that? Already thinking about writing your biography?" he asked jokingly.
Balgruuf snorted, standing up from his seat to join Hrongar. He leaned in, reaching for a sausage. "Nothing of the sort. It is just, plans."
"Plans, eh? Care to bring your little brother in it?" Hrongar asked. Balgruuf bit into a sausage, noting the heavy use of garlic inside of it. He approved. Garlic was nice and healthy and delicious.
"Development plans for Whiterun," he answered, swallowing down his food. "We make our wealth being the center of Skyrim. Trade runs through us and we profit off taxing the routes but, we can always do more. I have been studying on agriculture, particularly how they do it in the Nibenay Basin. Animal husbandry too. I believe that Whiterun can benefit from these practices."
Balgruuf held up his notebook and there, Hrongar read his notes. His handwriting could use some work btu it was clear enough that he had been recording everything he had learned.
"And you think this will help Whiterun?" Hrongar asked his brother. Truth be told, Hrongar had no clue how to farm. His skills were fighting, eating, and fucking. Though the latter was reserved only for his wife. She would geld him if he ever slept with another and he was happy enough to honor that.
"Governance is a investment and I tend to invest in Whiterun and our people," Balgruuf declared firmly, utter sincerity in his eyes. "With better food, our people are stronger and healthier and happier. After all, a happy and fed people have little time to revolt."
That, Hrongar understood. If a people were hungry then they would eat their rulers. Figuratively and sometimes literally. Balgruuf continued. "And I do not intend to stop there. You know of the Empire's methods of supplying the Imperial Legion, correct?"
Hrongar shook his head, munching on his bread. "No, I do not," he answered honestly. He then blinked. "Should I have?"
"Well, it's a quick concept to grasp, really. I shall give you an example." Balgruuf said, glancing around. He pointed at something with his lips, towards the distance. "You see that wagon over there?"
"...Aye?" Hrongar trailed. What was Balgruuf getting at?"
"If we we were going to build that as craftsmen, it would surely take time. But what if we can streamline the process? Make it efficient?" Balgruuf theorized. "What if we can divide the labor? One team makes the under-carriage then it passes onto the team that adds wheels, and onto a team that adds the rest? An assembly line, if you will."
Hrongar got what his brother was proposing. He could imagine it but with arms and armour instead of a wagon. That was surely something to take note of. With a method of manufacture like that, they could quickly establish a supply of...well...anything. "Whiterun could easily start a foundry with that, Balgruuf. Though I doubt the guilds will enjoy that."
"Hence, it is important for me to go and get the guilds on my side," Balgruuf shrugged. "I respect what the guild offers to its members, protection and such. But..."
"...But?"
Balgruuf said nothing, munching on another sausage link. "We have to be ready. We must be ready for when the time comes that we war against the elves again. And when it does happen, I want us to have all the advantages." He shared a look with Hrongar and the berserker saw in his brother nothing but sheer and utter hatred. "Do you remember when we patrolled in the south and found a hamlet? Moonrise, I think it's name was."
Hrongar could remember it. The memories of that place was as vivid to him as the first time he discovered the joys of two-handed battle axes. "Aye. I do. Are you...talking about the barn?"
"Yes. I am talking about the barn," Balgruuf's words were spat with venom. And with good reason.
There was a barn in the village and it had been the refuge for the villagers and their valuables when the Altmer came. When they refused to leave, the Altmer burnt it down to the ground. They had long since left by the time their patrol came there but it was clear what had happened. Some of the villagers had died trying to protect their valuables.
But not everything valuable was gold.
A woman, burnt flesh hanging from her skin trying her best to comfort her child as they burned. Hrongar imagined his wife and daughter as the victims. And the pool of rage in his heart simmered. Steam left his nostrils as he tried to calm himself. He sighed, letting the anger roll through him as he leaned back on his chair. "Is there a point to bringing up this terrible memory?" Hrongar asked, trying his best not to seethe.
"There is," Balgruuf said. "To let you and I remember that the Dominion and its Thalmor masters are bastards. Those inbred Elven freaks will kill us all as if we were nothing more but animals. There is to be no negotiation, no mercy. Only a reckoning that will make the Return of Ysgramor look like a minor skimirsh!"
He stood up, face sculpted to utter contempt. "I did not lie to you, brother. The Thalmor will pay. The Dominion will pay. If they live for the Dominion, they will die for the Dominion. The war will come again and this time, it will be their land, their people, and their blood!"
As Balgruuf made his vow, Hrongar had a flash of inspiration, or maybe a vision. He could not know. The only thing that he could agree on was that it was a favourable image. Of stout Nords in their armor, the song of legend playing as they humbled the elves and break them like glass, and shatter their ashes in the wind.
It was a glorious image.
"Then it is important that we begin, and not too later." Hrongar advised.
"And we will," promised Balgruuf.
It was then the tent flap opened and in poked Irileth. She pulled out her hood and saluted Balgruuf. "Legate. I have found those interested in your project. They will leave with us for Skyrim on the morrow."
Balgruuf grinned.
A/N: As I had said in my QQ account, this be a re-write. The story had gone to a point where it killed my plot-lines and certain things happened that made me not like its pace. This is the last time imma do this and properly now.