-Here I am again, and oh boy, this chapter definitely came out bigger than I'd initially predicted! Hope it continues to satisfy as the others have; enjoy! -


Lydia was a little outside of Whiterun when she'd heard it. In fact, just about everyone present including her had nearly paused in their tracks. They'd all heard it: a scream, a bellow, what even felt like a cry to the heavens themselves! Worse still it came from the general direction of Whiterun itself!

"By the Gods!" someone said.

"What was that?!"

"A shriek of the damned?!"

Something clicked within Lydia's mind, however. Having heard that cry herself, she could faintly tell that it had belonged to a woman! Only a woman could produce a scream like that. However more than that, she could also sense the faint vibrations through the air.

"Siffre..." she breathed, "My thane!"

Lydia was broken out of her stunned state and resumed running towards Whiterun. She didn't see behind her but from the sounds of feet running it appeared that the Imperials were following her example. She resumed her all out mad dash she had been doing earlier. There was no denying that cry had come from Siffre! But it didn't sound like any Shout she'd heard from her before. This sounded like genuine pain and suffering behind it! What if...

What if Siffre had slain?!

"No!" she voiced to herself, "Hang on Siffre! I'm coming...!"

Rushing air whipped through her hair and against her skin as she ran. Part of her exposed skin she felt extra sensitive to the air she realized was due to the blood that had spattered upon it. The air itself held a very faint smell of burning, the kind only that of smoke could produce. Before her the city of Whiterun drew closer and closer, the gentle glowing of yellow orange lights from within the city's walls being the main indicator as to why that would be. At least the catapults had been halted altogether, the main source of what had been burning her city. But still, the sight, as well as the smell, gave her plenty to worry at the moment.

When at last she closed in upon her city, she began to take notice of something else. There were in fact people there. Numerous people in various places in fact, all dressed in various clothing and armors. However, there appeared to be slightly less weapons clashing against each other than she'd have thought there would be. Fighting was still taking place, wasn't it?

"What's going on? Where is-"

The next thing Lydia was made aware of was more movement. A number of soldiers were suddenly beginning to run, in various directions. Two consistent things regarding this were that those that were running were dressed in familiar, blue-garbed armor of Stormcloaks, and they were running in some direction 'away' from Whiterun itself!

"Kjarngar's fallen! She killed him!" someone called out.

"How many have we lost?!"

"We've lost too many! Retreat!"

"Fall back!"

Lydia slowed her run to a stop before her city, but her confusion as to what was happening only mounted further. She witnessed a number of Stormcloaks rushing past her even, not one of them making any effort to fight her much less draw their weapon before her! Could it actually be?

"Run, you cowards!"

"Huzzah!"

"Victory for the Empire!"

"Look there! Imperials!"

The cheering of the Imperials behind her blended with the cheering of Whiterun guardsmen that were heard directly before her. There was no denying it anymore: the Stormcloaks had indeed been routed, with a number of them actually running away! She caught sight of more than a few of them dashing away and out into the expanse of Whiterun's plains. Cheers replaced the sound of battle that had been taking place, but Lydia was now able to look with her eyes upon the scene that lay before her.

The very entrance to Whiterun, including the front entry walkway and even the stables, both were the scene of a massive warzone complete with fire and destruction. Fires raged from nearby craters that the catapults' flaming shells had impacted in. Even sections of the city's stone wall were missing chunks from impacts that the shots had managed to hit. There were also numerous bits of chopped wooden spikes that lay upon the ground. It was clear to see that these spikes were once wooden barricades that had been made to block off the direct entrance, as a couple of them still stood.

More importantly though were the bodies.

Looking all about the ground, and easily illuminated from the light of the fires, Lydia gazed upon bodies. So many bodies, almost all of them coated red with blood lay strewn about the ground. They lay either in various states of dismemberment or even were relatively whole, but not a single one of them moved. All remained still as death and even with growing puddles of blood beneath them.

The smell of blood found its way to invade Lydia's nostrils as well. She shielded her nose with the crook of her elbow as best she could to block out the smell to little avail. Never before had she seen so many bodies, so much blood, and so much death. Not even the raids on nearby bandit encampments she'd carried out before had seen this level of carnage carried out. It was a horrifying and sickening sight to behold.

And that's when she heard it.

"COME ON! WHY RUN!?"

Lydia's head snapped back up towards the source of the voice. That voice, that by now all-too recognizable voice. That familiar voice that now carried so much vitriol, thirst for blood, and even anger within. The voice that could only belong to one person: her thane.

Siffre stood there, a few feet away, in the middle of the walkway. She held her great sword in both hands, lowered as if eager to attack still. The surrounding fires also served to illuminate her body as well, and Lydia could see her with a layer of red. The Dragonborn was positively coated with a layer of what was definitely blood! The entire front of her body, the length of her blade, even her face, all were blood splattered.

Of all the horrors that Lydia had witnessed today, somehow the sight of Siffre, her thane, coated with so much blood, and also sporting 'that' intense snarling expression on her face... Frankly, it scared her.

Or maybe... no, that wasn't entirely true. Yes, the sight initially scared her. But still, she was alive. She was still standing. And from the surrounding bodies of Stormcloaks and even the ones that were retreating from here were any indicator, she must have been largely successful in fending off an attack from them upon her home city. So no, Lydia wasn't scared of Siffre; she was glad to see her.

However, could she see her?

"My thane!" she called out.

Rather slowly and deliberately, the Dragonborn turned in her direction. Despite being some distance apart from each other, Lydia still was given a clear enough view of her thane's face. Blood-splatters marred the once pristine, pale complexion her face once held. Her shoulders were heaving up and down, indicating that she must have been breathing so heavily. Not only that, but the snarling expression itself was still present, even when her eyes met her own. Despite clearly seeing her, Siffre's face remained the same.

"My thane...?" Lydia called out again.

The second time was apparently what it took. Siffre's eyes appeared to widen; soften even. The hefting of her shoulders remained the same, but her sword drooped ever so slightly, its tip just barely touching the ground.

Lydia took this as her cue to approach her. Instead of rushing towards her like she initially planned to do, she instead walked, slowly and cautiously.

"It-it's me! Lydia! Remember...?" she said. Why would she even need to ask that? Her thane knew who she was! She had to, there was no way she could forget...

The sounds of snarls mixed with heavy breathing could be heard as Lydia drew closer and closer. Despite the sheer intensity of Siffre's display, she was making no other hostile actions towards her. She wasn't even lifting her sword again after it had drooped. What had happened?

Upon reaching Siffre's position Lydia chose this moment to raise her blade, and then proceed to slip it back into her sheathe. She then displayed her open hand now free of any weapon within.

"My thane... Siffre..." Lydia spoke this time much calmer and softer, "Are you... alright...?"

The two stared at each other for a handful of seconds. Crackling of nearby fires and various voices from surrounding people providing the only sort of background noise at all. The two warriors paid none of that any mind in this moment in time. Their eyes remained squarely locked upon each other.

Lydia looked into Siffre's eyes. The sheer intensity was still present within them, coupled with the blood that was splattered on her face gave her a rather blood-thirsty appearance. However, there was something else that Lydia could see present in her eyes. Something that she hadn't seen in them for a long time.

Remorse.

The softness that she could see in her eyes was that of remorse, regret, sadness even. Even her lips curled back to show her barred teeth were starting to quiver ever so slightly. The image of anger was definitely fading the more Siffre seemed to look upon her.

"Ly... Lydia...?"

A soft voice. A fearful voice. A voice that in direct contrast to what was heard mere moments ago was eerily quieter.

"Yes... Siffre. I'm here."

And that was all it took.

The sword held in her hands clattered to the ground as it was dropped. Lydia watched as Siffre quickly dashed forward towards her and... embraced her?

Siffre had wrapped both of her arms around her body and held her so tightly. Lydia was almost caught off-guard by this sudden action and was even almost thrown off balance. She maintained her footing though and allowed her thane to hug her as hard as she could. It was then that the housecarl noticed the sounds of... sobbing, from her thane! Siffre was crying?

"Lydia...! Lydia! I'm so... so sorry...!" she voiced in between her sobs.

"Hey! S-Siffre! It's alright! You're fine...!" Lydia returned the embrace by wrapping her own arm around to Siffre's back, though not nearly as hard as the Dragonborn herself.

"No, it's not! It's not..." Siffre said, "I'm so sorry...!" Lydia could only stand in place as she listened to the soft sobs of her thane over her shoulder. Never before had such a side of her been seen before, she almost didn't even know how to process this.

"My thane..."

Very gently, she pulled herself out of Siffre's embrace to look her in the eyes again.

"Listen to me: you're still alive! You defended Whiterun, and it looks like we won!" she spared a quick glance around her. Sure enough the only other people present were in fact Imperials, Whiterun guards, and even a few familiar faces of defending warriors. The only time she ever even saw a Stormcloak was either from them running away, one of their dead bodies lining the ground, or even a couple of them who were being detained. Not a single Stormcloak was attacking anyone at this time, "We did win! You did it!"

"Lydia..."

The housecarl was forced to look back into the Dragonborn's eyes again. They were now red as well from her cries, with tear streaks through the blood on her cheeks. Seriously, why was she feeling this emotionally... distraught?

"Lydia... I tried... I really did try!" she softly spoke, "But I... I couldn't..."

"Couldn't what?" Lydia's eyes narrowed, "Siffre... what happened...?"

The Dragonborn stared back at her for another handful of seconds as if deliberately hesitating. Finally, she relented and turned her head to the side.

Lydia followed her gaze towards the ground. There, amidst the slew of bodies that lined the ground, one could be seen. A body dressed in familiar horned armor that barely covered bulging muscles. Like Siffre he too was coated in a layer of blood. A massive gash could be seen on his side... and a huge cave in at the left shoulder. It was as if his shoulder had been bashed in by something hard, like a mace or even a huge hammer!

Worse still, the face was just clean enough for Lydia to see exactly who it was. A number of stripes of war paint lined the mouth and across the brow. The eyes were closed, and his frame was completely unmoving. Lydia did not need to stare too long to understand who exactly this was.

It was Hrongar. Hrongar the Unsheathed. Younger brother to Jarl Balgruuf.

Dead.

"Oh no," Lydia said, her breath starting to sound as ragged as Siffre's had been, "Oh no..."


Whiterun had been hurt and bloodied. There was really no other way anyone could interpret that.

The battle for the city had finally reached a conclusion of sorts. As the sun began to rise higher in the sky its light shone upon the city that continued to stand. That in itself was also factual truth: Whiterun was still standing, despite the Stormcloaks' best and brutal efforts to see it fall. The walls were still standing as were the majority of its buildings. Structure-wise, the Skyrim's central city had lived to see another day.

Society-wise though, the truth was far more severe in comparison.

Lives had been taken, from both sides. This conflict that had lasted well before and through dawn's early light had been long and bloody. The number of people that had perished and lay about on the ground was almost innumerable. Hardly anyone had any desire to learn exactly how many had died, but someone would have to do it. A number of Stormcloaks had been killed, but also a fair number of those that had elected to fight for Whiterun as well, such as Imperials, Whiterun's guards, and other defenders. The losses were heavy, and the number of severe injuries to all parties was just as high.

At some point during the morning the horn had been sounded that the conflict itself had been quelled completely. There was no more fighting taking place anywhere to be seen. No more Stormcloaks were pressing any assault on anyone; either they had been killed, driven off the land in disgraced retreat, or worse had actually been captured. It seems that a few of them held self-preservation over the need to 'die for the cause'.

Before anything else could be done, the townspeople were advised to either remain indoors or out of direct sight to verify that this was the case. The fighting may have ceased, but really who could trust the 'honor' of a Stormcloak to not suddenly attack an innocent at the worst of times? Thus during this time, the only souls that were out and about were Whiterun Guards or Imperials, hastily commencing with recovery efforts. The majority of Imperials had fallen back to the nearby Fort Greymoor to momentarily recuperate before they would return to aid Whiterun.

Miraculously, among those that had survived the conflict were Irileth and Commander Caius, the latter sporting a heavy bruise on his side. They too had been made aware of the sheer number of losses having incurred on their side. Chief among those was the loss of the Jarl's brother, Hrongar. In spite of that however, they were quick to order their guards to secure the city and its immediate surroundings. Fires were to be extinguished as fast as possible. Bodies were to be gathered and hopefully identified at some point. Buildings that had suffered structural damage would have to be fixed as well, but that was agreed to come at a later point.

Having little else to do themselves, Siffre and Lydia found themselves aiding the guardsmen in cleanup efforts within the city. It was actually at Siffre's insistence that she wanted to be away from the outer gates of Whiterun as quickly as she could. Lydia had no reason to argue and stayed by her thane's side the entire time.

The first thing the two had sought to do was get cleansed. 'Bathing' areas were established within the city so that people could at the very least rinse off blood from their bodies. These of course were little more than temporary 'showers' with buckets of water gathered for quick rinses. Lydia and Siffre went to get their armors cleansed of blood, the latter having much more she wanted to be cleansed of. If only something like rinsing in water could wash away traumatic memories and experiences as well...

A large wagon had been brought in that would be able to hold the number of dead persons lining the city's streets. A rather callous course of action, but there was little other way they could all gathered. The main priority was that the streets be cleared immediately first.

Lydia and another guardsmen lifted another fallen guard up and carefully brought him over to the wagon. The man had a full helm on still, preventing Lydia from seeing who exactly it was underneath. Her heart felt heavy all the same for the man; no doubt she had served alongside him too in the past.

Upon reaching the wagon the two very gently lifted the corpse up and placed it atop the other bodies. A casual brush against her arm let her know that Siffre was right next to her, doing the exact same thing.

By now that look of absolute despair had somewhat faded from her face. It was replaced now with a sullener, withdrawn look. Despite the blood having been washed off of her face, very faint outlines of tear streaks still remained on her cheeks. Every time she saw them Lydia felt a pain in her chest. She really needed to reassure her thane when she got the chance...

Siffre turned to step away from the wagon when her hand quickly shot to her side. Her hand was clutching the side of her body where she had been 'stabbed' as it were; a gauntlet with 'bear-claws' had pierced her skin and had caused blood to flow from three separate wounds.

"My thane? Are you alright?" she asked.

"Urgh..." Siffre visibly wincing in pain was her simple reply. Lydia stood on the Dragonborn's right side when her injury was on her left for her to see clearly. Nevertheless, she could still see the thin layer of crimson blood on the palm of her hand again. Suddenly the feeling of that punch that she herself had taken to the face didn't seem as severe, at least compared to that!

"You're bleeding?" Lydia said, "Come on! Let's get you to a healer, or something!" A gentle hand on the Dragonborn's back guided her forward. Siffre didn't give any sort of resistance and allowed herself to be guided.

"Guards! Thane Siffre is injured, I'm going with her to help see to this!" Lydia called back towards the guards behind her. They mumbled various acknowledgements and resumed their tasks.

Dragonborn and housecarl walked side by side up along the main walkway through Whiterun's Plains District. All around them more than one building had sustained damage in some way or another. Most of their structures had cave-ins or even were completely demolished and leveled. Almost all of them were easily attributed to a flaming shell that had been thrown by the catapults, as indicated by either scorch impacts or even patches of still-burning fires. Wherever there were stray fires was a guardsman hastily attempting to extinguish them with buckets of water.

Things hardly looked any better by the time they entered the actual market area either.

'By the Gods... Aw, Belethor's shop.'

Lydia suddenly pointed upon looking to the right. The entire doorway as well as the outer awning had completely collapsed to a smoldering mess of burnt wood. Strangely, she couldn't see any shell impacts nor any scorch marks from what the catapults would have launched. If something had indeed set part of Belethor's shop on fire, she had no way of knowing precisely what.

Her attention turned back to Siffre upon hearing the faintest sound of mumbling of some sort from her throat. She couldn't tell what it was, but her thane was still remaining soft-spoken as it were. It was a strange callback to when she'd first met her in Whiterun during when she could hardly voice anything at all. This time however the circumstances were much different, and much more dire.

"Siffre? Siffre, listen," she started, "About Hrongar-" Siffre didn't even need to say anything; Lydia could simply 'feel' her thane tense up at the simple mention of the man's name, even with a single hand placed at her back, "Listen... I'm not mad, nor angry, about what happened... if that's what you're thinking..."

"Lydia..." Siffre softly spoke. This earned her a quick look from Lydia as this was seemingly the first time she'd spoken this morning since her earlier breakdown, "I... tried... I really did."

"And I believe you... I believe that you did your best," Lydia said, "And besides, I'm guessing he was felled on the field of battle?"

"Erm... yeah, he was," Siffre replied. If Lydia weren't paying extra attention, she might not have even noticed the very subtle tug at the corner of Siffre's lips.

"He was always one for the frontlines," she patted her hand on Siffre's back a couple of times, "You know, I remember him once saying there was no greater honor than to fight along someone who had Skyrim's best interests at heart..." The two were silent for a moment, allowing the moment's words to really set in for them. Eventually Lydia spoke up again,

"But my thane, listen... If you'd like, you can let me deliver that 'news' to the Jarl. It doesn't have to be you-"

"No... I'll do it."

Siffre's response cut in, but there was no harsh edge to the reply. The still softness in her tone suggested that she was a little calmer and understanding of not only the situation but also of what she was saying. While her response didn't immediately worry Lydia, it still earned her a look.

"You're sure?" Siffre nodded.

"I'll tell Balgruuf... I'll tell him his brother fought bravely..." Siffre said, "And I'll tell him... the one who killed him is also dead."

"Truly...?" Lydia said, "Well... alright then. If you're absolutely sure..." She patted her hand on her back one more time, "Just know... I'll be right here for you, if you need anything. Support or something." Siffre looked over at Lydia and nodded. The gentlest of smiles now graced her face as she looked at her. And in this moment Lydia also felt the slightest bit better.

"Lydia? Siffre!"

A familiar voice called out. The two women glanced to the side to see their mage friend approaching. The Imperial carefully made her way down the steps from the Cloud District before rushing over to them faster upon flatter ground.

"Illia," Siffre said as the mage joined them, "Are you alright?"

"Well, yes, I'm fine, I think. I was just at the temple, aiding the priests with some minor healing, and-" Illia stopped as she noticed Siffre clutching her side still, "Whoa. Siffre, what happened?"

"Oh, this..." Siffre said as her face winced in pain, "He'd gotten a lucky hit on me. Hadn't had time to treat it yet..."

"Well here! Let me help you!"

Illia quickly declared her intention and for once, Lydia gave no cause to argue this time. She trusted the mage by this point, especially that she would not purposely harm either of them.

True to her word, Illia held in her hand a spherical ball of glowing yellow energy; exactly like the last time she had healed her own self just recently in fact. Very slowly and carefully the Dragonborn lifted her hand off of her wound to allow show to Illia. This was almost regrettable choice however as small amounts of blood started to flow from the punctures.

Before too much blood could be spilt Illia quickly placed the flat of her palm against Siffre's side. She held it there for a few seconds as all three women watched with anticipation.

Finally, Illia removed her hand to behold the effects before them. Just as what she'd done with Lydia, Siffre's side had been completely healed of the puncture wounds, leaving only three distinct 'dots' of scarred tissue as well as only streaks of blood in their place.

"Ah, that really helps... Thanks," Siffre said. She gave a few more experimental flexes with her left side, demonstrating how she could in fact move in such a way now that she was no longer injured there.

"Sure, no problem," Illia said as she wiped her hand of the blood on the side of her robes.

"Say... what happened to you?" Lydia asked, "The Imperials and I had regrouped at the gates after we'd routed the Stormcloaks outside them, but I didn't see you." Her question actually caused Siffre and Illia to exchange a look with each other, which only roused Lydia's curiosity further.

"Well, you see... the gates had been breached, and the Stormcloaks were getting through the main entrance," Siffre explained, "Illia told me she was going to go into the city and do what she could."

"And I did! They were rushing into the city itself, so I went after them!" Illia assured, "I really did try and fight them off, I did! There were a few Stormcloaks I had to deal with and also... also..." The way Illia trailed off left Lydia tilting her head.

"Also, what?" she asked, "What happened?"

"I... I found someone, someone in trouble... at one of these burning buildings," Illia explained, rather solemnly, "I couldn't just let him die..." Lydia's heard began to sink a little at where she believed Illia was going with this, once was hard enough to hear from one of her friends...

"But?"

"Well, I managed to free him, in the end," Illia continued, and Lydia could feel the heaviness in her chest lift slightly. The implication of the worst immediately passed as quickly as it came. However, the way the Imperial was explaining this seemed to imply something bad occurred anyway, "He was hurt bad, and I... My spells, they had..."

"Hurt him?"

"No no! I didn't do anything to hurt him, I swear!" the mage insisted, "I tried to help him, the whole time! It's just that... I wasn't able to keep the 'worst' from happening to him..."

A gentle motioning of her left hand drew the other two women's attention. Upon gazing upon Illia's left arm Lydia found herself momentarily surprised. The last time she had seen her the left arm was still covered in a skin-tight layer of bandages. Now suddenly there were no bandages, and the arm was bare again! And, just as Lydia had predicted, the skin of her left arm was marred with scars reminiscent of burns.

The last time Lydia had seen Illia fight with 'bare arms' was against the dragon!

"Illia! Your arm!" Siffre pointed out, "What happened?"

"Oh; well, I sort of regret doing it now, but in the moment, it felt like what I needed to do," the mage explained as she held her arm up before the three, "I thought that the bandages themselves were limiting the strength of my spells in my left hand when I needed them, so I ripped them off. I'm still not sure if I should've done that, Dravynea did say..."

"That's not gonna be a problem, is it?" Lydia asked, "I mean, how does it feel?"

"Still feels really sensitive," Illia said, "But other than that, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as before. One of the priests at the temple actually looked at it for me and told me so."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Siffre said.

"I should hope so..." Illia lowered her arm back at her side, "Still, my magic cast through that arm is still not as strong as it should be... If only it were-"

"Illia- Or rather, both of you," Lydia cut in and addressed both Siffre and Illia at the same time. The Dragonborn and the mage eyed her curiously.

"Listen, I know I wasn't here at this city defending it, but you two don't need to sell yourselves so short. If you both claim you did the absolute best you could do, then I believe you. You both protected my city and its people. And I..." The housecarl paused for a moment, "Just... Thank you. Really, thank you both, from the bottom of my heart, for standing and fighting for it. I couldn't have asked for more..."

The two other women were also silent for a moment. Siffre's head lowered ever so slightly while Illia shuffled in place with her arms held in front of her.

"I mean, if you say so. And... you're welcome." Illia replied.

The Dragonborn's response was to give a simple, silent nod. She said not a word, but Lydia understood her meaning all the same.

"Attention everyone! Attention all!" A voice suddenly rang out through the area. A man's voice, and the three women looked up and around to see where it was coming from. They could see that at the top of the ascending steps to the Cloud District a guard was standing at the top and calling out, "The Jarl himself orders for assembly. All are to meet at the Cloud District!"

The Jarl! Lydia had almost forgotten! With all that had been going on she had yet to wonder or even consider what had become of him! Well, given the fact that he himself was requesting everyone's presence as the guard said, at the very least he was still alive and fit to rule. She could only wonder if he had already been informed of the fate of his brother or if there would be a point to tell him at all...

The sounds of footsteps all around them were heard; the other guardsmen and those assisting with recovery efforts were already on their way to the Cloud District.

"The Jarl is summoning for us?" Siffre said.

"For everyone, by the looks of it..." Lydia said, prepared to go up there as well, "Well, we'd best not keep him waiting-"

"Excuse me? Pardon me, but are you the 'Dragonborn'?"

All three women quickly spun in place. A completely new voice out of nowhere had just spoken up with a rather strange inquiry. The three turned to look upon... a man?

A rather ordinary man with ordinary clothes. There was nothing special about him at all, save for the bag that he carried over his shoulder. This person was completely unfamiliar to Lydia; he wasn't someone who lived in Whiterun, that's for sure. Who was he?

And what exactly did he ask just now?

"The... what? Dragonborn?" Siffre voiced. She exchanged glances between both Lydia and Illia, "Um, yes. That's me...?"

"Ah, perfect! I've actually been looking for you!" the man said. The look on his face seemed to suggest he was relieved to have found the person he was looking for. With that he proceeded to reach into his strange bag at his side, "You see, I have something I was to deliver to the one called the 'Dragonborn'..." This entire scene unfolding before their eyes. Lydia found herself shaking her head in complete befuddlement.

"I-I'm sorry, who are you again?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm just a deliverer of mail. Letters, packages, the usual..." the man absently remarked even as he continued to search through his bag, "Let's see, I know it's here somewhere... Ah, here it is!"

The man pulled forth a single piece of parchment. It was shaded as ordinarily as any other piece of parchment the three women had ever seen, while also folded in half. The man held it forth, deliberately in Siffre's direction. Lydia reached forth to take the letter to hand off to her thane herself-

The mail-deliverer suddenly pulled his hand and the parchment well and away from Lydia's grasp.

"Ah-ah, I was given VERY specific instructions: for 'her' hands only," he clarified. Lydia could only shoot him yet another look as her dumbfounded state returned yet again. She actually rolled her eyes and gave a sigh as she pulled her hand back.

Siffre took the letter from the man's hand.

"Um, thanks?" she said. Her tone suggested she was just as confused as Lydia was, "But um... who is this from?" Her comment actually had the man pause to think for a moment.

"Huh, I can't exactly say 'who' it was from," he said with a shrug, "Was never given any name, only that it was 'a friend of yours'." Once more his rather strange comment and reasoning earned her a look from Lydia. She glanced over at Siffre but noticed something even stranger.

Siffre's facial expression was... changed. She did still appear just as confused and puzzled as herself, but there was something else. Her eyes had a very strange look to them. They appeared to stare far off despite her clearly looking at the mail-deliverer. Unless Lydia was seeing things, she was certain she could see hints of worry in her eyes?

Just as Lydia was beginning to ask what's wrong the man's voice spoke up again,

"And looks like that's it! Got to go now!"

Before the three women could say a single word, the man had quickly turned around and walked away. He was making his way towards Whiterun's gates, seemingly completely oblivious to the state of the world around him. His rather aloof attitude and actions practically left the three women stunned in place. Eventually, Illia was the first to shake her head.

"Um, that was really... strange," she commented, "Well, Siffre? What does it say?"

Her questioning broke Siffre and Lydia from their stunned states. The Dragonborn looked down upon the parchment she held in her hands. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about it; it was plain a piece of paper as one could be, simply folded in half.

Before she could actually unfold it though she was momentarily stopped by Lydia.

"Or wait, my thane, we still have Balgruuf's assembly to get to," she reminded, "Let's read it later, or afterwards."

"Erm, alright," Siffre said. With a shrug she lowered her hands with the parchment held in one of them. With that the three women followed after the guardsmen all around them and made their way up the steps to the Cloud District. All were both eager and not so eager to hear what the Jarl had to report in light of this event.


The state of the round gathering in the Cloud District frankly could've been more presentable. Frantic efforts were made to extinguish stray fires as well as those that had caught onto nearby buildings. This task was admittedly easier for the guards what with the constant flow of water from the decorative streams flowing from Cloudsreach. In no time the fires had been all but contained, leaving soot and scorch marks, blemishes on an otherwise jewel of a city.

Somehow, in light of the destruction that the catapults had caused, the Talos statue that had stood at one end was largely intact. A huge chip of its left shoulder had been blasted out from glancing blow, but that was somehow the worst of it. The stone depiction of the Divine continued to stand with its head bowed and its sword pointed straight down at the serpent at its feet.

And it was there, before the statue itself, that Jarl Balgruuf stood. The ruler of Whiterun stood, clad in his Whiterun-styled armor, flanked on all sides by a few guardsmen as well as Irileth. He held his arms behind his back and his head slightly lowered, as if contemplating. The dour expression on his face spoke volumes of how he was initially feeling.

Civilians had been led out of the temple and assembled near and around the body of the Gildergreen. They had been positioned on one side of the giant tree, on the Jarl's right, while warriors that had taken part in fighting and defense stood opposite them. Perhaps it may have been the number of warriors themselves present, but many took notice of how there seemed to be fewer Whiterun guards themselves present at this time. It was a sad, unspoken reality of it: many guards had been killed defending the city. That was the only explanation for it.

However, they were not the only ones brought out here into the Cloud District. There, with Commander Caius presiding, stood a group of seven individuals currently in shackled chains. Three of them were dressed in the same garb of the very Stormcloaks that had just attacked, all except for four of them. This was because they were in fact Whiterun citizens themselves!

Vignar Gray Mane, his nephew Avulstein, the third individual who was later identified by the name 'Geirlund', and finally the robed Talos priest Heimskr himself. All of them had chained manacles over their wrists in front of them, and all were just as much shooting everyone nasty looks. The absolute worst of looks they could give were reserved for the Jarl himself.

The moment Siffre caught sight of the priest her mood soured almost instantly.

"There!" she said before quickly catching herself and speaking much softer, "There he is!"

"Wait, what?" Lydia said, "Heimskr? Why is he...? My thane, what happened?"

"He's the one who... he's the one that killed those guards and lowered the drawbridge! The Stormcloaks came into Whiterun because of him...!" Her silent but potent accusation was punctuated with almost pure venom, something Lydia could see in her eyes and hear in her hushed voice.

"No...! He wouldn't!" Lydia shook her head. She'd always known the priest's almost daily proclamations bordered on fanaticism, but never had she even considered he'd go so far as this! He was supposed to be a loyal citizen of this city, not an outright traitor to it!

"It's true, I also saw him do it..." Illia chimed in.

Her addition only fueled Lydia's disbelief even further. She glanced back up at the Talos priest, noting his hood had been pulled back and leaving his whole head exposed to the world. Even in chains he stood with a face of defiance and pride, as if he had committed an act of heroism instead of deadly treason.

And Gray Mane! Lydia gazed upon the Gray Mane patriarch in chains as well, along with his nephew behind him. Both of them wore defiant expressions as well, though their faces held mixes of anger and vitriol. This was specially made clear every time they even glanced in Jarl Balgruuf's direction; if looks could somehow kill they'd have done the Jarl in by now.

'How? How could this have happened?' she thought to herself, 'Whiterun is supposed to be united, not divided! Why, Vignar? What did you do!?'

By now Jarl Balgruuf took a quick, deep breath before turning his head up to address the assembled people.

"My citizens, fellow denizens of Whiterun," he announced, "I in fact stand before you, here and now, a testament to the outcome of this most recent attack! The Stormcloaks have taken their best shot with this assault... but we have prevailed!" His words were punctuated with a victorious tone at the end. More than a couple of the civilians and even some of the warriors let out quick cheers of their own.

"I will not lie to you, any of you, when I say this: we are hurt, we are bloodied, and maybe even broken," the Jarl continued, "But we are NOT beaten! We are still standing! Whiterun continues to stand in light of this villainous act! Ulfric's Stormcloaks have failed to take Whiterun, and it's all thanks to the efforts of the men and women you see before you!"

A gestured hand indicated to the warriors on the side. Likely from the recognition of their martial prowess they proceeded to let out heavier cheers. The sound was almost deafening as the majority of it had come from the Companions. While the present Kodlak himself did not cheer, he still acknowledged Balgruuf with a simple nod.

"But Jarl Balgruuf, what is that?" one of the civilians pointed out to the bound prisoners, "Is that Vignar Gray Mane? Why is he in chains?"

"What's going on?"

Balgruuf took a sharp breath; the moment of dread had arrived, best to deliver the news to them straight...

"Yes, that..." he started, "You see, this battle was not without its... 'hidden agendas'. Those three Stormcloaks you see here were apprehended. The rest of them were either killed or retreated. However," He indicated to the remaining four, "These four you see before you: they have committed crimes of the most heinous variety during this time!"

The crowd almost instantly erupted into gasps.

"I don't deny what I did, nor was it a crime at all!" Heimskr declared. He let his voice ring out just as loudly as if he were delivering his usual praises to Talos, "This writhing, wretched city needed- no, DEMANDED liberation! The Stormcloaks were our liberators, and I was there to aid them! The Empire and its coin-addicted allies must be cleansed from-"

"By the Gods, shut UP!"

Irileth suddenly stepped forward and delivered a single gut punch to the priest. The man's raves and rants were effectively silenced, followed quickly with a fit of coughing. Irileth dusted off her hands and rejoined the Jarl's side, the latter giving her a look.

"What? He was screaming too loud." the Dunmer shrugged.

"Avulstein! Uncle Vignar!" the voice of the nearby Olfina Gray Mane spoke up. From the crowd of civilians, it appeared like she might try and rush forward towards them. However, she was held in place by a stern, stone-grip of a hand on her shoulder by Eorlund Gray Man. The young woman shot him a pointed look, but otherwise held her position.

"Why, Balgruuf?" spoke Olfina's mother Fralia, "Why have you captured Vignar and my son!?"

"There is something... something you all need to understand..." Jarl Balgruuf said. His voice sounded a bit more reserved and held back, yet projected it just enough so that it could be heard, "These men here... They brazenly drew their weapons and attempted to assassinate me!" Just as before the crowd erupted into a mass of nervous murmurs and even vocal protests. Almost exactly as Jarl Balgruuf had sadly predicted.

Lydia's gaze snapped over to the bound Gray Mane patriarch. Her widened eyes locked on him and almost silently demanded an explanation. While she had personally had little interactions with the man, much less his family, she had still come to respect them for their prestige of upholding honor and tradition. They were after all one of the original founding clans of Whiterun alongside the Battle Borns! It was nigh unfathomable that someone like them would be capable of the sort of crime that they were being called out for at this time!

'High treason!? Capital betrayal?!' she thought. Her thoughts of surprise quickly gave way to thoughts of anger as she realized exactly what this meant regarding her Jarl, "Vignar, how could you...?'

"It is all true! These three guardsmen as well as I were present and witness to this 'attempt' at a coup!" Irileth added while also indicating to the trio of guardsmen who were present with them. She indicated and pointed to each of the three bound men individually, "Vignar Gray Mane, Avulstein Gray Mane, and Geirlund here have committed great crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?"

The crowd was beginning to vocalize much more angrier protests by now, the loudest of which came from the Gray Mane family women. It was clear to see that they were none too pleased with their own being called out for such a heinous crime. While Olfina and Fralia were especially animated, Eorlund maintained his stoic look of sullen anger. Even now he was still managing to hold Olfina in place and prevent her from likely doing something she would regret.

"Whiterun... my people," Vignar Gray Mane suddenly spoke up. His voice effectively silenced the angry mob, all of whom stopped to listen to the elder, "I make no apologies for what has taken place. My only regret... was that it failed!" And just like that, the disgruntled murmurs of the crowd began to flare up again.

"The Empire and its Thalmor puppet-masters would steal Skyrim's very soul by taking away Talos! That cowardly Emperor and even this cowardly milk-drinker of a Jarl would rather bend knee to those elves rather than fight for our honored divine!" The more the Gray Mane spoke the livelier and more passionate his voice grew. Lydia listened to this man seemingly rave on and on; it was a stark reminder of his earlier interactions with the Jarl during the war council yesterday.

'Jarl Balgruuf, why are you simply letting this man speak!?'

"At least I was willing to take action to help this city towards its destiny!" Vignar continued, "And Talos MUST remain a part of that destiny, at ALL costs! If that means casting aside weak-willed, coin-pinching Imperials with no respect for honor and tradition, I would do it again! I would even succeed next time!"

"Hear hear!" Heimskr chimed in. His wasn't the only one either. To Lydia's shock a fair number of people in the crowd were almost sounding... sympathetic to the man? Like they weren't immediately angered by everything he was implying?

'This isn't right!' she thought angrily. At last, she felt the need to vent her thoughts before everyone.

The voice of Siffre speaking first silenced her.

"Everything that's happened here... you'd simply go for a grab for power? Waiting during when Whiterun was attacked to attack the Jarl himself...?" Her question was spoken at normal volume, but it felt more 'pointed'. In addition to her rather stern and even angry face, Lydia could tell that Siffre must be holding back barely controlled rage, just as she herself was, "The only cowardly ones I can see are you! Many men and women lost their lives last night, but it's alright because 'Talos must be preserved'?"

Another bout of angry remarks flared from Olfina Gray Mane. This time they were leveled directly at Siffre. The Dragonborn spared her a single glance, though only in response to where they had come from, before turning her attention back to the bound Vignar.

The old man in chains simply shook his head slightly with a small sigh escaping his lips. Again, that patronizing attitude of a parent seemingly scolding a child; with everything that was made known to them just now it was now starting to make Lydia even angrier to witness!

"You, Dragonborn... you disappoint me," he spoke in his semi-condescending tone, "I had expected better, expected you to recognize common sense. Seems you are as dumb as you look-"

"I don't give a damn WHAT you think of me!" Siffre's voice raised in volume ever so slightly. The air rippled with vibrations as well with most of them aimed directly at Vignar, "You Stormcloaks, and you... You're the real traitors..."

"Silence! That is enough!" Jarl Balgruuf's voice suddenly rang out. Vignar could only shoot him a look, but nevertheless was silenced. Siffre begrudgingly held her tongue as well, even taking a step back to where she was standing.

Lydia placed a gentle hand of reassurance on Siffre's shoulder. The Dragonborn slowly glanced in her direction and the housecarl gave her best sympathetic look. Perhaps now was not the best time to lose tempers; either of them.

"The captured prisoners have not only taken part in acts of high treason against Whiterun itself but have also claimed full responsibility as well as zero remorse or regret for their actions," Balgruuf spoke again, "The punishment for these crimes is death by summary execution, to be carried out immediately."

Another round of gasps rang out through the assembled crowd. Even Lydia couldn't help but gasp aloud as well. Summary executions? Those were very rarely carried out in Whiterun, if at all! She couldn't even remember a condemned criminal in recent years that the Jarl himself personally deemed to be put to the death!

"Summary... execution?" Illia's voice said before glancing towards her, "You mean... They're gonna...? Right here and now?"

"So, it would seem," Lydia said, "I just never expected..."

"Irileth, summon for the headsman right away," Balgruuf commanded.

"At once, my Jarl," Irileth said.

"That will not be necessary!"

A completely new voice rang out. Absolutely everyone was put off by this voice; it didn't belong to anyone. Not anyone that lived in Whiterun at least.

The assembled mass turned to where the voice had been heard from. They could then see that a new group of people were now approaching from the steps of the Plains District marketplace and quickly approaching. Of these newcomers was someone Lydia herself recognized: Legate Rikke, clad still in her shining Imperial Armor that was still marred with various dents from the recent battle. Along with her were a small handful of Imperial soldiers dressed in lighter versions of armor themselves.

However, none of them were the ones that had called out just now. That voice belonged to the 'other' newcomer.

Another figure walked alongside Rikke, though with a respectable distance between them. This person was dressed in a rather black robe with rather accented gold trimming along its edges and at various buckles. The hood was pulled over the head, but the face could still be seen clearly: a golden face, white goatee, and piercing yellow eyes that seemed to just radiate pride and arrogance. The Altmer practically strutted his way forward, caring not for any potential townspeople he may or may not have 'bumped' into.

This High Elf also had his own escort of soldiers, though these were radically different from the Imperial soldiers. They were also Altmer, and were dressed in rather shining golden armor, angular in their textured designs and almost reminiscent of eagles. Whatever material the armor was made of made a shrill clanking sound with every step their boots took on the stone ground they walked upon. The more curious thing about these Elven soldiers was that not one of them had a single weapon on them. None of them were holding anything in their hands nor were there any sheathed weapons to be seen on their waists or even on their backs. What kind of soldiers didn't have weapons on them?

Almost immediately the area grew darker and tension that filled the air grew even thicker. There was hardly a single person present that didn't know who these people were, or more importantly who they belonged to.

The black-robed High Elf came to a stop in front of the crowd as he stood before both Balgruuf and his soldiers as well as the prisoners. As he stood there seemingly casually placing his hands behind his back, the bound individuals regarded him with pure hate. Indeed, the hate that they'd demonstrated towards Balgruuf mere moments ago absolutely paled in comparison to the sheer hatred they had now. It almost scared Lydia to see just how hatefully and spitefully they were looking.

"Legate Rikke, was it?" Balgruuf was the first to speak up, "And I see you've brought... guests, with you..." Legate Rikke's expression was as unmoving as stone. There was no denying however that this was an absolutely uncomfortable moment for her as well. Despite what she may or may not have been feeling, she maintained her image of stoic professionalism.

The same could not be true nor said for certain others.

"ACCURSED THALMOR! As Talos as my witness I will smite you all right here and now!" Heimskr suddenly exploded. He then proceeded to thrash in place, desperate to free himself from his bonds. Though he did this clearly not to get away from these Thalmor; it was very likely he was wanting to free his hands to do something else 'to' them.

However, the black-hooded Thalmor simply remained standing in place, unmoving with his hand still behind his back. He only seemed to spare the priest a single glance, his eyes filled with the purest apathy that Lydia had ever seen before.

"Jarl Balgruuf," the Thalmor spoke, absolutely ignoring Heimskr's outbursts completely, "I hope you would forgive the unfortunate late arrival of Thalmor forces to... aid, in your city's defense. Seems that Skyrim's... weather, can be so terribly unpredictable even on the best of days..."

Every single word spoken from the Elf's mouth was practically oozing with smugness and superiority. Lydia didn't even need to see the Elf's face to guess that even now he was probably looking down upon everyone metaphorically and even literally.

"Hmph, I'm sure," Balgruuf's reply came simple and curt. He held his arms crossed over his own chest as he regarded the Elf, "Then is there some reason you have come here now at this time, Ondolemar?"

"I thought it would be made clear and obvious, my Jarl," the Elf Ondolemar replied in a sickly courteous tone that in itself was coated with sarcasm, "Your city it appears was successful in repelling members of a rebel sect of Talos worshippers, referring to themselves as 'Stormcloaks'. Congratulations, of course." His eyes drifted upwards, and a scowl instantly began to grow upon seeing the statue that still stood before everyone, "And in doing so you have proved the city's devotion to your Empire, coincidingly verifying its cooperation with the Thalmor. I am certain you are familiar with all that entails..." He trailed his sentence off by casting another look towards the Jarl. Balgruuf's only response came in the form of an audible grumble.

"As Whiterun is loyal to your Empire, it is established that it must abide by not only its laws, but the laws of allies," Ondolemar continued, "As per Section Two the White Gold Concordat signed by your Emperor and the Aldmeri Dominion, any and all forms of expressions regarding 'Talos worship' is strictly forbidden, under the harshest of penalties."

"I am familiar enough with the law," Balgruuf swiftly cut in, "And presumably if you were also not made aware, this bunch were just about to be granted said summary execution. I can only guess you would be 'presiding' over that as well...?"

"Hm, granted the idea is rather entertaining in itself. However, this moment just as well presents another fine opportunity," Ondolemar said, "It would seem the majority this group are fully committed to the Talos heresy. These continued beliefs, if not their very existence, are a blatant affront to Thalmor interests, which need I remind you align with those of your Empire." He crossed his arms over his chest, a further mocking display of what Balgruuf himself had done previously.

"With that, as leader of the Justicars, responsibility falls to me to 'appropriate' these prisoners of war. Seize them."

Ondolemar's command was instantly declared, almost casually even. The look on his face also betrayed no sympathies whatsoever. The group of Thalmor soldiers immediately stepped forward and close to the prisoners.

"You'll not take me, blasted elves!" Heimskr raved, "Inflict whatever horrors you wish, for Talos is my eternal shield! My-"

"Silence heretic!"

One of the soldiers before him seemingly flicked her wrist before something happened. There, in her hand, a translucent object appeared in which she grabbed the base end and pointed straight at the Nord's throat. It was a sword! That Thalmor soldier had 'summoned' a sword!?

'Whoa! That must be why they didn't have weapons on them!' Lydia thought, 'Is... is this the might of Thalmor weaponry?'

"By the Gods!" she heard Illia exclaim in an extremely hushed tone. Lydia glanced to her side at the mage to find her hand over her mouth. She appeared just as wide-eyed with surprise as she herself was.

"What? What is it?" she asked, "What was that?"

"That's... that's an actual form of Conjuration magic!" she quietly replied, "Only they summoned weapons!? I didn't think that was even possible!"

Lydia's gaze shot back to the Thalmor currently in the process of rounding up the prisoners. She had certainly heard of her fair share of descriptions of these Thalmor from the Jarl and his court, mostly spoken in disdain. But even in light of that, seeing them demonstrating supreme power to such a degree, Lydia couldn't help but feel a sense of... inadequacy? She certainly hoped that's not what she was feeling. Though it was hard not to feel 'outclassed' compared to soldiers that could literally summon weapons with a flick of the hand!

The prisoners by now were being secured to each other with a single rope that connected them all in a straight line. Heimskr was placed at the very head, despite the man's persisting rants even now. The crowd also partook in vocal unrest at what was taking place right in front of them. Soon it came Avulstein's turn to be placed in this 'line'.

"No! Not Avulstein! Brother!" Olfina Gray Mane called out. Her voice was somewhat different from the angered declarations she'd been making before; it was more shrill, more frantic, panicked even, "You can't take him! You can't!"

"Olfina-" Avulstein said. This was followed by a swift elbow to his back from the Thalmor soldier behind him.

"Silence." The rope was securely fashioned to his shackles, albeit harshly, just as the others had been.

"Avulstein!" Vignar said. His head shot over to the Jarl, "Balgruuf, you... do as you wish with me. But my nephew, my family... Have some shred of decency, man."

Balgruuf's reply was to level the Gray Mane patriarch a look. The look in his eyes was stern, even judging. His lips remained pursed.

"Decency? As in how you and your nephew 'decently' attempted to assasinate me? How you 'decently' attempted to overthrow my rule in favor of Ulfric? How your mad power play 'decently' allowed for the deaths of many souls?" He shook his head slowly, a judging gesture of his own,

"Oh, I've shown you decency... But it is you, Vignar Gray Mane, who have been found wanting. May the Gods watch over you, old friend..."

Vignar's face flashed with anger yet again. Before he could say anything further he was secured with the rope to the now 'train' of prisoners by the Thalmor soldiers.

"Secured, Ondolemar!" one of them said.

"Right then, the Imperials shall escort them to the wagon. Legate Rikke?"

"... Soldiers, proceed," the Legate said. Her tone of voice mirrored the clear frustration that was on her face. She clearly wasn't thinking highly of the High Elf or perhaps how she was being addressed in her duties.

The gold-armored Thalmor soldiers hastily made a wide clearing of the townspeople to allow for plenty of room. A couple of Imperial soldiers also took positions along the sides of the prisoner 'convoy'. The bound prisoners themselves initially refused to move forward, as Heimskr was making exceedingly clear with his stubborness.

One of the Imperial soldiers took the hilt end of his weapon and hit him against the back with it. The priest gave a vocal grunt of pain, but found himself moving. The prisoner convoy began to move with the soldiers guiding them and the Thalmor soldiers themselves providing adequate clearing to allow them to move.

From the convoy's rear Vignar and Avulstein spared looks to the remaining family members. Eorlund maintained his stoic visage, though even that was close to breaking as he watched his own brother and son be carted off. The women on the other hand were absolutely hysterical. Fralia was quietly sobbing while Olfina was practically screaming.

"NO! Avulstein! Uncle Vignar! They can't take you! Please!" she exclaimed.

"Olfina! I'll... I'll find you! Somehow!" Avulstein said.

"Brother..." Eorlund spoke up for the first time today. His voice sounded strong, but the faintest hints of his voice cracking could be heard. It was honestly very difficult to tell with how serious his face was still maintaining.

"Eorlund... Lead well," Vignar said to him, "Fralia, Olfina... Never forget who you are-"

"Get moving!" a harsh shove cut off anything further from the soldier behind him.

With that the convoy was well underway and proceeding towards the steps. The assembled crowd of onlookers were forced to simply watch on as they left. Soon they had vanished completely out of sight as they left the Cloud District. The Gray Mane womens' various sobs persisted even well after they had left.

Lydia could feel a small pang in her heart from their display. On the one hand she should feel bad for them, and to some extent she did. It could not be easy to be forced to watch one's own family simply be taken from them. On the other hand she remembered the very people that were being taken away and what they had done. Vignar and even his son truly did deserved to pay somehow, and to some degree this was definitely a punishment in itself. But this sort of retribution... Was this quite what they deserved?

'Maybe... I wonder if I should ask Jarl Balgruuf?' she thought to herself, 'Hm, I can't imagine what it must be like having to make these sort of decisions...'

With the prisoners of war having been escorted out of view everyone's attention was brought back to the 'guests' to Whiterun.

"Ahem! Let this serve as a clear example and a reminder to all citizens of the Empire!" Ondolemar announced, "To serve your Empire also requires full cooperation with the Thalmor, in ALL respects! After all, I'm sure you'll find its many benefits far outweigh any consequences..."

His voice trailed off with more than a few of the civilians vocalizing their feelings through various murmurs and even grumbles. The look on Ondolemar's face however remained unmoved by their reactions. If anything he remained callously indifferent, as if regarding their opinions was absolutely beneath him.

He was not finished yet as he turned his attention briefly to Jarl Balgruuf.

"The Imperials will also aid you in removing that... blemish, from sight," he directed the Jarl's attention to the damaged Talos statue. His disdain for said statue bordered on vocal disgust as seen through his eyes alone. Balgruuf himself pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, refraining from saying anything yet giving the slightest of nods.

"Right then, with that, have a pleasant day!"

It was almost insulting the level of sarcasm he leveled in a seemingly pleasant phrase. There was not a hint of any good wishes to it at all; he made sure that all were aware of how unpleasant his experience to them was.

As he prepared to turn and depart, he suddenly came to a stop as his head glanced in Lydia's direction. The housecarl tensed up almost instantly. After hearing and seeing everything that this High Elf demonstrated within the span of a few minutes, she absolutely did not want to be subject of any sort of discussions with him!

Then, she happened to look closer at his own gaze. Those arrogant, smug-filled eyes were narrowed in a direction... away from her?

He wasn't looking at her; he was looking right next to her! At Siffre!

"You there... you seem... Who are you?" he said. Gone was his previous tone of condescending, and replaced by what almost sounded like genuine curiosity.

The look on Siffre's face suggested she too had little desire to be put on the spot in this way.

"I um... I'm no one, really..." she said. Interesting, she wasn't replying with saying her name, or just as importantly what she was known for? The wheels in Lydia's head slowly began to turn as she picked up on what she believed Siffre was going for.

"She is simply the thane of Whiterun," Lydia quickly chimed in, earning her a quick look from Siffre, "A loyal servant of the Jarl, with myself as her housecarl."

"Is that so...?" Ondolemar replied in a snide tone. He took a single step closer towards the two women. Already the Elf was far too close for Lydia's liking even with the distance between them still, "Because as it happens there had been... reports. Reports from our agents of a woman that bore a striking resemblance to yourself among the prisoners brought to Helgen a mere week ago!"

The two women's lips pursed as they tried their best to mask their reactions. There was no way, there was simply no way! How in the world could word have reached that far that fast?! Lydia remembered being told by Siffre that she had been captured at Helgen, but from what this Thalmor Justicar was implying, were the Thalmor also present at Helgen during that time? What could this even mean for her if they had such information? Would she... would she be taken away as well?

Lydia's heart grew heavier at the mere thought.

"But you wouldn't happen to know anything of that, would you...?"

His follow-up question was punctuated with a raised eyebrow. And just like that, Lydia almost could feel the worst of this moment begin to pass. Perhaps he wasn't quite certain if it was her or not for him to be asking that sort of question.

"No, none at all..." Siffre replied with a slow but firm shake of the head. The Thalmor Justicar seemed to study the Dragonborn for a handful of seconds further even with that given response. For the longest time the two looked at each other, unblinking almost. Lydia watched on, mostly for her thane's sake. What could she possibly be thinking in this moment...?

Finally, the corners of Ondolemar's mouth curled upwards ever so slightly in a smile, along with a quick and humorless chuckle through closed lips. This was followed up with him turning and proceeding to leave. The Thalmor soldiers themselves followed after as well.

After what felt like an eternity of a moment of sheer discomfort, Whiterun's citizens were left alone again, with the Imperials present.

"Ahem, yes well..." Legate Rikke was the first to break the silence as she addressed the Jarl, "As you heard it put so nicely, 'that' will need to be taken care of..." A quick gesture of her head indicated to the Talos statue behind the Jarl. There was no joy nor satisfaction in her voice as she spoke.

Jarl Balgruuf quickly glanced behind him and was reminded of the Talos shrine himself. An audible grumble could be heard from his lips. This was quickly shaken off as he addressed the assembled people again.

"As it also stands, due to the number of guards having died in service to this city, until suitable numbers can be replenished..." He let out a quick sigh before continuing, "I am... granting the Imperial legion their soldiers to be posted in my city..."

The reactions that rang out through the crowd were more mixed this time. A number of people voiced their discontent while a number of them actualy voiced satisfaction for the decision. Most notable of those that approved was the Battle Born patriarch, Olfrid.

"Hear hear!" he declared, "I promise you, Jarl Balgruuf; we will do everything to maintain peace and security in Whiterun!"

"Hmph, I expect no less..." the Jarl said, "That concludes this meeting for now. Please continue to see to the dead and the wounded. Legate Rikke, Irileth, speak with me later regarding the city's fortifications that need to be considered. Dismissed!"

With that, the gathered mass of people slowly began to break and go their separate ways. The Companions went back up the short hill of steps to Jorrvaskr, some civilians departed for houses in the Cloud District and even down the steps to the marketplace. The few guardsmen present were joined by the Imperial soldiers as they resumed the gathering of the fallen.

Under direction of Legate Rikke, a small number of Imperial soldiers accompanied her as they stood before and beneath the Talos statue. Discussions could be heard between them obviously of how it was to be taken down.

Lydia herself looked upon the statue, the single chunk of its shoulder taken out. Despite its now flawed appearance, she couldn't deny just how much of a part of her it was after all these years. It was going to feel absolutely strange to walk up and down Dragonsreach's steps and not behold it off to her side. At the same time, with Heimskr also being taken away, this meant that the Cloud District was about to become a lot quieter without his constant proclaimations at seemingly all hours.

"Dragonborn. Lydia," she heard Balgruuf speak up. The Jarl stood before them with Irileth at his side still. The Dunmer was sporting a number of cuts on her own body, likely from her own skirmish she described from Avulstein attacking her.

"Jarl Balgruuf, I have to ask..." Lydia said, "Those Thalmor and the Imperials taking those men away... Was that really the right thing to do?" Balgruuf's lips pursed slightly before giving a small sigh.

"I confess, there really is no 'right' choice in a situation like that," he said, "Did they deserve punishment? Absolutely. But sometimes... the exact method of punishment often falls outside most peoples' designs, my own included."

"If only execution could've been carried out sooner..." Irileth chimed in. The Jarl spared her only a look, but said nothing. It was then that Lydia could see it: the sheer amount of weariness in her Jarl's eyes. The man was tired, no doubt burdened by the extreme weight of responsibilities this recent attack had likely piled on him.

"My Jarl... are you sure that you yourself are alright?" Lydia asked.

"Please, Lydia, it's me who should be asking you that question. In fact, all of you..." He indicated to all three women present before him, "You all heroically defended my city likely at great personal cost. I... I owe you a debt I could scarcely ever repay."

"Um, yeah. I was glad to have helped out, however much it was..." Illia added.

"Of course, Jarl Balgruuf," Siffre said. Lydia could see her face as she spoke. There was earnesty there, but also hints of sadness. It wasn't that hard to know why exactly, what with all that she, and even three of them, had likely been through. Speaking of which...

"And my lord, there is... something else you need to know," Lydia spoke solemnly, "I'm... I'm sorry to tell this, but... Hrongar... He..."

"Hrongar...? Is he really...?"

Lydia nodded.

Balgruuf took a single step backwards, a hand placed over his chest. The action was subtle and slow, but Irileth was still there. She placed her hand on the Jarl's shoulder for reassurance. Balgruuf took a couple of deep breaths, each one sounding more ragged than the last. As much it pained Lydia to have delivered him the news, she could only imagine it was even worse for the man himself to have it delivered to him. She knew that Balgruuf had lost his wife many years ago, but now his own brother?

"Hrongar... brother..." he breathed. The look on his face... Lydia wished instantly she could take back the very news she had delivered if it meant that look would fade away. Her own heart felt a stab of pain, likely a mirror to his own.

"Jarl... Balgruuf. Easy..." Irileth spoke softly. Her soft tone was rather uncharacteristically soft for how harsh and uptight Lydia knew she could be. A number of deep breaths rattled from his barely cracked open mouth. All women present watched anxiously as the man processed what was told to him.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the ragged breaths from Balgruuf ceased. The look on his face was still aghast with shock and despair, but he appeared to muster up the strength to look back up again.

"Tell me... tell me he fought valiantly...?" he managed to say.

"He did."

Siffre spoke up first this time. No longer was her voice soft-spoken and uncertain. She spoke with confidence and conviction in its purest form. The tiniest of vibrations could be felt through her voice though no one paid them any mind in this moment.

"I fought with Hrongar outside the gates," she continued, "Me and him, side by side. And... while he fell in battle... I avenged his killer." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Jarl Balgruuf... I don't think Hrongar had any... regrets. I think... I think he was proud in fighting for what he believed in. He believed in me. He believed in Whiterun. But also... he definitely believed in you."

Balgruuf's lips remained pursed as tightly as ever, but the initial look of shock that had fallen over his face appeared to fade. The more Siffre spoke the more it seemed to give way to a look of something resembling assurance. Everything that Siffre was describing Lydia could feel was true in her mind; Hrongar may have been a 'brawn over brains' sort of fellow, but he absolutely knew where real loyalties were meant to lie with.

"That definitely sounds like Hrongar; I'm glad he at least died doing something he loved," Irileth said. Balgruuf gave his housecarl a quick, single nod.

"They'll surely sing songs of his bravery and heroism in the halls of Sovngarde," he said, "Thank you, for telling me this. It does not bring me joy, nor does it bring him back, but it was something I needed to hear."

"My lord, what of the children?" Irileth asked. Balgruuf's eyes narrowed again.

"That... They'll have to learn the truth, one way or another."

Lydia could feel a weight in the pit of her stomach. By the Gods, Frothar, Dagney, and Nelkir! Those poor children!

"Jarl Balgruuf?"

All heads were turned to the voice from behind. Legate Rikke could be heard calling for the Jarl's attention. She and the gathered Imperial soldiers were standing at attention, as if they were waiting for him specifically.

"Ah yes, sounds like it's time for my 'talk' with the Imperials..." Balgruuf said, "I'm afraid we'll have to talk more later; I've got a city to keep. Irileth."

He motioned for his Dunmer bodyguard to follow him. The pair joined up with Legate Rikke and the Imperials, where the trio of women watched them speak of something for a moment before proceeding up the steps towards Dragonsreach. Once again they were left alone and to themselves.

"Oh, wait a minute..." Illia suddenly said, "Ugh, I was hoping to ask him something before it was too late."

"Huh? Ask him what?" Siffre asked.

"Well, I was hoping he would know of... directions," the mage said, "I was wondering if he knew where this 'Winterhold' was..."

"Winterhold?" Lydia tilted her head, "Why would you want to know that?" In response, Lydia and Siffre were met with a rather strange look from Illia as she regarded them.

"Well, um..." Illia seemed to fidget in place, as if unsure of how exactly to respond. She eventually sighed before continuining, "Alright look, I know you all would tell me 'I did my best' today in what I could do, and... I believe you. But still... It still felt like... Like I wasn't as good as I could have been! Does that make sense? I did save someone, but only just barely!"

"You did!" Lydia nodded, "Sigurd is very much alive and did express gratitude to you as well! What more could have-"

"No, that's just it," Illia interrupted, "For one thing my spells were not casting to their full potential. Especially through both arms..." She casually held both of her arms before her as she trailed off. Siffre and Lydia were once again drawn to the now exposed left arm, burn scars marring the flesh all across.

"But... what's this got to do with this- what was it, 'Winterhold'?" Siffre asked.

"Well, just yesterday actually, I had been speaking to the court wizard, Farengar? He told me I could try applying to the College of Winterhold," she explained, "Apparently it's a place for mages to grow more adept at magic?"

"It is? I've never been there myself..." Lydia said before shrugging, "Ah well, I suppose I could show where it would be..."

The housecarl proceeded to reach to her side and pull forth her map and unfold it before the three of them. She had to admit that one of the more amazing things was the fact that this simple piece of parchment was still intact after all the extraneous movement and battles she'd been a part of as of recent.

In her hands lie the complete map of the province, and she quickly pointed out the aforementioned destination.

"There, it's right there," Lydia pointed to the upper right most corner of the map. The upper right edge of Skyrim held the symbol of Winterhold: what appeared to be a three-pronged crown with dual-colored circles within and below.

"All the way up there? Then, to get there..." Illia traced a finger over the parchment, "Wait, what are these dotted lines here?"

"It's officially what marks a Hold's boundaries," Lydia explained before circling over the middle section of the map, "Look- all of this covers Whiterun Hold, and all of this for Winterhold. You see?"

"Oh, I think I do... So then that means this thick line here," Illia pointed out, "This is like a main... pathway?"

"So it would seem," Lydia agreed, "So to get there we'd need to travel along Whiterun's east road from leaving the city, then go straight north. And... it should take us straight there." Lydia lowered the parchment and glanced back up at Illia, "And, you're sure this is what you'd want to do?"

"I am," Illia nodded resolutely, "If there's any chance I can be a better mage from an actual college for mages, then I have to take it." There was not a hint of doubt nor hesitation in Illia's face or voice, as far as Lydia could see. She quickly recognized that the mage knew exactly what she wanted as well as what she was talking about. And who was she to dissuade or talk her out of it?

"Alright then, Illia, we can do that for you," Siffre agreed. Just then, her eyes narrowed before widening slightly, "Oh, by the-! Lydia! I just remembered...!" She too suddenly reached to her side to retrieve something.

"What? What is it?" Lydia asked. She watched as the Dragonborn mirrored her own action and retrieved a piece of parchment herself. The housecarl was then reminded of the parchment given to her by that courier a little while ago! That's right, that 'eccentric' delivery man who had chosen then of all times to give her of all people a piece of mail, at a time like this!

"That's right, that note you got from... whoever it was!" she said, "Well? What does it say?"

"Let me see..."

The parchment was folded in half once on itself. Siffre unfolded it and beheld the words that lay upon it.

"'Dear... Siffre.'"

Siffre started, then immediately stopped. Her eyes widened as she read literally the first words on the parchment. Lydia almost misheard what was said at first herself, until she realized it was no mistake.

"What?!" she angled herself towards Siffre's side to gaze upon the note as well, "What the... someone wrote a note to you? By name?"

"Huh?" Illia had done the same and was looking at the note from the opposite side of the Dragonborn, "Whoa. Was it... Is it someone you know?" Siffre shook her head from her shocked state and continued reading.

"'You caused quite a stir at Whiterun when you demonstrated the power of your Thu'um. Not everyone is anxious return of the... Dragonborn. I for one desire to see you grow and develop your talents. Skyrim needs a true hero these days.'"

'True hero?' Lydia thought, 'Seriously, who is this letter from?'

"'You should turn your attention to... Val- Valthume'?" Siffre's eyes narrowed upon attempting to read the strange word. Lydia looked down to the word as well.

"Valthume... yes, that's what that reads," she confirmed, "'To the south of Rorikstead.'"

"'I understand it holds a mysterious source of power that can only be unlocked by the Dragonborn. Sincerely...' Oh- 'A friend'."

Siffre flipped the letter over to view the other side to find... nothing there. It was blank on the opposite side; the only writing to be seen was on the one side, and even then was as vague and transparent as possible.

"It doesn't say anything else?" Illia asked, to which Siffre shook her head, "Well then, who exactly is 'a friend'? Is it a friend of yours?"

"No, the only other people who even... 'knew' me, were those of the old gang," Siffre said, "But, they're all dead. And now, the only ones who I'm sure would call me 'friend' are... you two." Lydia and even Illia couldn't help but lightly flush. It was likely already established, but to hear her actually confirm that they were friends... it felt good to hear.

"Well, alright- so, if it's not from someone you consider a friend... who else can you think of?" Lydia said.

"That's just it- I can't," Siffre said, "I never knew my parents. That gang was the only group of people familiar with me... but, not even they knew of me being Dragonborn. That only happened during my time here in Skyrim."

"So, someone that not only regards you as Dragonborn, but also by your actual name?" Illia said, "But you say there's not many people with knowledge of both... Wow, this is unusual..."

"And... what about this place it said... 'Valthume'...?" Siffre looked back at the note to confirm the word again, "What sort of place is that?"

"Hey, let's see if it's listed on the map here," Lydia offered.

She held up her map for the three of them to see. In addition to the nine major cities of each Hold being named, a number of smaller towns could be seen with names as well. They scanned the parchment all around, looking for anything with any indicator of 'Valthume'. Nothing could be seen; not even anything that started with a 'V'.

"Hold on, that letter mentioned 'south of Rorikstead' too, didn't it?" Lydia recalled. She traced her finger to the west of Whiterun and settled upon a single point, "Well, here's Rorikstead right here."

"Wait, what's Rorikstead?" Illia asked.

"It's one of the small hamlets in Whiterun Hold, far out west from where we are, see?" Lydia explained while pointing a finger to said settlement, "So from Rorikstead, that would place it at..."

Her finger slowly traced downward from the smaller town towards the depiction of curved lines meant to represent mountainous regions. It came to stop on a single dot within this region, and... that was it. Aside from a single dot where her finger pointed, there was no other indicator of what the dot was, or even if that was the destination.

The three women exchanged looks with each other.

"Well, what even is 'Valthume'?" Siffre asked.

"I have no idea," Lydia shrugged, "Another settlement? An encampment? Ruin even? Aside from 'where' it could be on this map, there's no way to know for sure..."

"Um, wait a minute," Illia spoke up, "From this map, that letter is directing you to go 'west', from here, right?"

"Yes?" Siffre said.

"Well... that's completely opposite from Winterhold."

Neither of the other two women needed to glance back at the map to confirm that detail. It was true, two different topics had been brought up in this short amount of time that involved travelling to two different places, but both of them were as far apart from each other as could possibly be.

"Oh... I see..." Siffre surmised, "In that case... we'd be going to 'either' Winterhold... or to Valthume?"

"Alright, look-" Lydia started.

"No no no, listen," Illia cut in first, "If that letter said it's something the 'Dragonborn' was able to find and unlock, I can see how this would be very important for you," She indicated to Siffre, "And, I'm not looking to take that away from you..." She pursed her lips before taking a sharp breath through her nose and continuing.

"But, at the same time... Is there really a guarantee that I would be of any help to you there? My spells and spellcasting are already less than what I'd prefer..."

"Illia..." Lydia said. This was all starting to sound like retread of familiar topics. Again with her claiming her spells were 'not good enough'.

"I'm serious!" Illia insisted, "The court wizard Farengar himself advised I should visit this College in Winterhold! If an actual court wizard could vouch for it, that has to be solid proof of its potential, right?"

"I... I mean..." Lydia tried to think of an argument to that claim, only to come up short. As much as she was hating to admit it, the claim itself did have reasonable merit. She'd always known Farengar to be rather eccentric; pompous in his craft even. But when it came to that same craft of spells, even she could agree that the man was almost unmatched. Perhaps a recommendation from him was not so bad a thing after all.

But a recommendation from him was not the issue here!

"But Illia! What you're suggesting is going to one place, then possibly going 'back' across Skyrim to another?" she pointed out.

"I... I wasn't really suggesting that," Illia argued, "At least, I don't think I was."

"What other way could that be meant by-"

"Alright! Enough, you two!" Siffre cut in. The sharpness of her voice sent a gentle ripple of vibrations through the air, "Now look... Illia. I get what you're trying to say. About going to Winterhold's College, or something?" Illia nodded.

"The answer... it really isn't that hard to see," Siffre continued, then addressed the two other women before her, "We simply... split up."

Lydia and Illia blinked.

"Huh?"

"What?"

The almost dumbfounded responses came quick and simultaneously.

"If going to Winterhold really means that much to you at this time... You should do that," Siffre explained to the mage, "I mean... if I have a destiny as Dragonborn tied to going to this place, this 'Valthume'... Then, who's to say you don't have a destiny involving going to that College?"

"My thane," Lydia spoke. Her look of shock quickly turned to a look of surprise. That was actually quite a profound reasoning she'd heard from her.

"Siffre..." Illia spoke with just as equal surprise, "B-but... that would mean 'leaving' the two of you, wouldn't it? As in... going separate ways? You'd really be fine with that?"

"I was the one wondering if you'd be fine with that..." Siffre pointed out, "It's hardly ideal, splitting apart after all this time... but if it's something we both 'need'..." Illia opened her mouth to retort, but held her tongue as she seemed to reconsider.

"Oh yeah... I guess I was 'invited' by you to join your little group after all," she admitted, "And now here I am wanting to essentially 'break away'..." She paused for a moment. Siffre and Lydia couldn't tell exactly what was going on in Illia's mind as she appeared to ponder, but she pondered for a good while.

"Yes... this is what I need to do," she spoke again, more resolutely this time, "And, if that means I'd need to go separate ways from you, both of you... Then I'll do it."

The sincerity in her voice as she spoke was unmistakable. Lydia couldn't help but be reminded of the first times she and her had met; under those VERY tumultuous circumstances. How underneath the image of what she initially considered a vagabond mage was actually a timid, even repentant soul, wanting more for herself. It felt like so much time had passed since that point and now, where the Illia that stood before them felt a little more confident. She still felt... nervous, if that was the right description for it, but there was more certainty in what she wanted for herself compared to before. She couldn't help but feel a little prouder for her.

In truth, it reminded her a little of her thane, Siffre.

"That's good to hear, Illia. I hope it works out for you," Siffre said with a nod. She then glanced to the housecarl, "Lydia?"

"Oh yes, of course; the feeling's mutual," Lydia also said.

"So then, shall we all get going?"

"Actually, I'd prefer it if we were to let Jarl Balgruuf know of our plan. Or rather- our 'plans'," Lydia clarified, "It wouldn't feel right leaving suddenly without informing him. And besides, maybe he'll have some advice for us to take with."

"Hm, that's a good point..." Siffre said, "Alright, let's let him know then."

"He went with Irileth and Legate Rikke up to Dragonsreach."

Lydia waved a hand, and the three women made their way up the steps towards Dragonsreach. For once since the day even started, the feelings of despair in all three women had given way to something else.

Hope? Perhaps.


Discussions with Jarl Balgruuf had been made without too much difficulty. The Dragonborn and Lydia had announced their intentions of seeking out the location of 'Valthume', as the letter from 'a friend' had instructed.

While the instructions were clear enough even Balgruuf had to raise an eyebrow at the complete anonymity of the letter's sender. Not to mention the sheer coincidence of when the letter had been received. But, as little could be discerned even from him as to whom the letter was from, there was little that could be done in regard to that.

Unfortunately, no one in the Jarl's court had any helpful idea as to what Valthume might've been any more than the three women themselves. For the moment Balgruuf did also advise that they travel westward to the settlement of Rorikstead. The town was part of Whiterun Hold after all. Lydia concurred with that notion as at least once or twice she herself had been there. Once they would arrive there, they could properly figure out how to get to Valthume, if discover its location at all.

At the same time Illia had sought directions for how both how exactly to get to Winterhold and what she could expect. Both Balgruuf as well as Farengar chiming in had provided her with the best route. The route she was to take would largely take her through the Hold of the Pale, which did fall outside of Whiterun's boundaries. As the Hold was under the rule of Jarl Skald the Elder of Dawnstar, it was likely one would possibly expect Stormcloaks on the road. Despite making it clear she would be travelling by herself she was still advised caution.

Before the three women left however, Jarl Balgruuf had them first partake in a small meal before departing. This most recent battle was taxing for all involved in more ways than one; there was no reason they should think to set out on another journey with empty stomachs.

Illia was rather quick to agree with that point personally.

The three women were then fed and ready to set off on their respective trips. Before they left, Balgruuf apparently had sensed the reservations that Lydia had prior. He assured her that with the aid of Imperial forces that would be assisting in its protection, Whiterun would be perfectly fine in its restoration to former glory in her absence. This claim was quickly vouched by Irileth: plans were already underway for construction and repairs of damaged buildings, as well as restoration of food and water supplies.

Word from both her Jarl and her fellow housecarl were good enough in her mind; the two were sincere in their claims and their plans, so she could trust that they would see it all through.

Bids of farewells were made, to both the Jarl and his court, and even the housekeepers that maintained the entryway on the way out.

Siffre, Lydia, and Illia made their way out of Dragonsreach, bellies full, hearts hardened and ready for their tasks before them. The individual roads they'd be travelling likely would be tough, but they were ready now more than ever.

Passing through the Cloud District they watched as various people were performing various cleanup tasks. The air was filled with hammers hammering and saws cutting wood. Everywhere there was a mark of damage either from a catapult impact or even a common weapon was being repaired. There were even a number of Imperial soldiers joining the Jarl's men in the repair efforts. While it was a strange sight to see, Lydia couldn't deny the look of determination they held upon their faces as they assisted. They appeared just as dedicated to restoring Whiterun's image as its actual denizens.

The three left the Cloud District when they decided to stock up on supplies like potions for the road. More health potions for Siffre and Lydia and a magicka potion or two for Illia. In addition, Lydia sought to arm herself with a new shield as the present one bearing the Whiterun symbol had been badly damaged. A quick exchange, though at cost of more than a few coins, and Lydia had a proper shield in hand once again.

Before exiting the city in full, they were approached by someone. Unlike the strange courier before, this individual actually identified himself: a Breton named Maurice Joundrelle. Apparently, he was a travelling pilgrim and trying to find the Temple to Kynareth.

As before it felt absolutely strange that the man would choose now of all times to find pilgrimage at Whiterun after what it had just been through, but the man seemed earnest enough. Lydia quickly directed him in the direction of said Temple up the nearby steps, where the man graciously thanked her for her assistance.

With that the three made their way out the city's gates, or rather through open archway that would've had actual doors. It was Lydia's sincere hope that would be remedied by the time she returned to Whiterun again.

By now most of the bodies of the fallen had been collected and were being properly 'organized', however dignified that could've been done anyway. Many bodies of Stormcloaks, Imperials, and Whiterun guards could be seen...

And Hrongar of course.

Rather than breaking down at the mere sight, the three women were silent as they paid their respects. The initial shock had worn off and even the grieving period had passed; now was the time to wish Hrongar a well-deserved journey of his own to Sovngarde; Gods know the man certainly had earned it.

Finally, the three women came to a stop at the road that ran perpendicular to Whiterun's own entry path. This was it; if facing Whiterun city itself, the western path would lead to Rorikstead, and the eastern path would lead to Winterhold Hold.

"Alright, this really is it, isn't it?" Illia said, looking at the two women, "Looks like I'm heading off."

"Best of luck to you, Illia," Siffre said. She quickly reached up and patted Illia on her shoulder. Unlike before she was mindful to pat her right-side shoulder with her left hand.

Lydia also opted to extend her hand out towards Illia; her gesture of a handshake was made clear and obvious. The mage was almost surprised by the sudden action at first, coming from Lydia of all people, but she caught on quickly. Illia took Lydia's hand in a handshake. The two regarded each other with smiles.

"I know you'll make a fine mage," the housecarl said. The two released their grips before Lydia also added, "And, in case I hadn't made it clear before... I'm glad you've been with us this whole time. It's been... good, having you around and all that."

"Wow, thanks. Really," Illia said, "I-It was good to have met you two as well! I don't think I'd have ever gotten to where I am now if I hadn't met you! Either of you!"

"Oh wait, before you leave..."

Lydia took this moment to reach down at her side and bring forth her coin purse. She opened the small purse and extracted a small handful of coins. The septims clinking ever so slightly in the Nord's hand, she extended out to offer to Illia, "Best for you to have some coin to your name..."

"Ah, thanks," Illia reached out with both hands and let Lydia drop the coins into the palms of both of hers. Her eyes appeared to sparkle ever so slightly at the wealth she literally held in her hands before pouring them off into her knapsack, "Yeah, this will definitely help me out, I hope."

With that, she adjusted the long strap of her bag over her shoulder before beginning to turn around.

"Well... goodbye! Both of you...!"

"Take care."

Siffre and Lydia gave pleasant waves after her. They watched Illia's back as the mage slowly drew further and further away from them. Their friend walked in her respective direction along the straight path until she became a mere speck in the distance.

She was gone, off on her own journey, wherever that would take her.

"It'll definitely feel strange, not having her around..." Siffre noted, "Been so used to the three of us travelling in a group, and now..."

"Never thought I'd say it either, but I agree," Lydia added, "Time sure has flown, for us to be where we are now; all of us." She shook her head of any further sentiments, "But anyway, it's time for us to be on our own way!"

"Of course...! So that means... this way?" Siffre said as she pointed in the opposite direction Illia had walked.

"That's right, Rorikstead's a decent walk down this main walkway," Lydia explained, "I'm betting we'll still have plenty of daylight to at least make it there."

"Alright then, let's get going."

Siffre allowed Lydia to slightly lead the way. The two women proceeded on their own walk along the Whiterun road. Nearby Whiterun guardsmen off the side wished her well as she departed from her home city; the jewel of Skyrim that still stood today.


-Whew! I believe this is the longest chapter for this story I have written this far! I hope I wrapped everything up nicely, with a healthy number of teasers for what's to come.

I also gotta say it was really fun writing Thalmor scenes and depicting not only how much of pricks they are but also how they're meant to be a genuine threat. Also seemed fitting that the leader of the Justicars, Ondolemar, would be the one to suddenly appear and take away Talos worshippers when all the 'actions' already concluded. Feels more in line with how their faction is completely willing to let two opposing factions bleed each other before suddenly swooping in.

Stay tuned because while this arc has concluded, there are still plenty more to come real soon; keep on reading! -