Ω
Skyrim Spartan
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω=o=o=o=o=Ω
Reldith scowled as she peered into the dark side street that she had wandered towards. Her body was tense, all her senses strained to their utmost. She had felt the familiar feeling of a flare of daedric energy from somewhere in this direction. A summoning. It was hard to mistake it for anything else, especially for someone as sensitive and experienced as she was to such things.
Summoning Daedra was not a crime in Tamriel. After all, summoners who succeeded in bringing one of the Daedra into this world were usually in complete control of their summons. And for most summoners, they could only keep the Daedra here for a short amount of time.
But the timing and location of this particular summoning seemed suspicious to her, and so she took it upon herself to investigate, slipping away when most everyone's attention was elsewhere. There was no need to involve the others in this matter.
She knew stumbling about in the dark was likely to be a mistake, but using a light and drawing attention to herself might be an even greater mistake, so she steeled herself and continued carefully down the empty side street. Halfway down the dark street, she smelled it. Sulfur. Smoke. The electric feel of magical energy thrumming in the air. The telltale signs of Daedra summoning.
For what purpose were they summoned? Given the amount of magic she could feel, whatever was summoned was quite powerful too. Far beyond a simple atronach.
She glanced around, and though her naturally heightened eyesight allowed her greater vision compared to humans, it was still far too dark for her to make out anything meaningful. Still, she could sense that this was not where it was summoned. She was close though.
Dogs barked in the distance. Somehow, she felt like she was being watched. Her hair stood on end, and she whirled around as if someone might creep up on her, but there was no one there. A quick glance around showed that she was indeed alone.
She shook her head and pressed on. Within her, she felt for her magic, ready to unleash it at a moment's notice. She had a sinking feeling that she might have to fight someone, or something, tonight.
Perhaps it would have been prudent to alert the Guard to what she felt; however, she knew that if she had waited for them, whoever had summoned the Daedra would be gone by the time they did anything. Besides, it was entirely possible that this was not anything to worry about at all.
She was only going to look and then retreat. She certainly did not ascribe herself to be a hero of any sort. But when it came to Daedra…
Reldith rounded the nearest corner as she followed in the direction of where she thought the summoning occurred and immediately froze in her tracks.
A hooded figure appeared to be embracing someone intimately. Her eyes narrowed. No. Not embracing. She swallowed hard. Feeding. She had seen one before. A long, long time ago. A vampire, feeding on its prey. They were powerful beings, strong in both magic and physical strength. They were perfectly capable of summoning powerful Daedra.
But where was the Daedra? Did the summon already disappear? She frowned as nervousness settled in her gut. She did not like this at all.
Whoever the vampire had in their clutches was either about to die, or about to turn into one of them. A vampire thrall. She needed to act. Her hand formed a claw, and she could feel her magic flowing to her hand. But she hesitated. Could she take on a vampire by herself? She did not know how powerful this one was.
With a frown, Reldith reminded herself that she was only here to look, not to throw herself into the middle of anything.
There was a vampire in the city, and if there was one, there could be more. At the very least, there were likely to be several other thralls. She looked around warily as she took a careful step back. She needed to report what she found to the guards. A monster like this needed to be rooted out before things got worse. Before more of them appeared.
She took another step back, and then another. She was about to turn around and slip back around the corner to leave when a voice spoke from behind her, and she went stiff from both fear and surprise.
"Going somewhere, mortal?" The voice was heavy and tinged with amusement.
Reldith spun rapidly and raised her right hand, a sharp icicle forming almost instantly as she tried to impale whoever was behind her. She had moved fast, but her opponent was faster, and they jumped back out of reach, barely avoiding getting stabbed.
She released the bolt of ice and sent another one after it even as she cast a defensive spell on herself—Steadfast Ward. It would protect her against both spells and physical attacks, at least for a moment. She had no idea how strong her opponents were, but the ward should give her some margin of error.
Her magicka reserves were not the best due to her long-term injury, and she could feel herself tiring from the effort, but she had some ways to go before she was depleted. Her goal now was to escape, not to win. She doubted she could win against a Daedra and a vampire under these conditions. Though escaping was only slightly easier than winning, if she was being honest with herself.
She cursed inwardly that she did not know any transportation magic of any kind. She had never really needed it before, but now it would have come in handy.
The Daedra, a blue-skinned humanoid Dremora with rippling muscles and glowing tattoos, leaped to the side and then summoned some lesser Daedra to harass her. Three scamps and a vermai, a faceless humanoid with mottled green skin that looked like leather. Reldith fired off more icicles, impaling two of the scamps almost immediately while the third managed to evade her attack.
The vermai too was nimble enough to dodge, closing the distance between them as it did so. It leaped forward, arms outstretched, its two-fingered paws ending in sharp claws, ready to skewer her. Reldith twisted, avoiding one claw while the other raked across the protective ward she had cast on herself.
She could feel the ward's energy drain, but it held, and she blasted the vermai in the face with a cold spell that swiftly froze its head. It slumped forward, dead, before it disappeared, banished back to Oblivion. The third scamp growled at her, baring its fangs, before it barreled forward with great speed. It took a few more bolts of ice before she managed to impale that one too.
Reldith was now keenly aware that the Daedra was not taking her seriously. It could have kept attacking even as its minions distracted her. It could have summoned more lesser Daedra too. But it didn't. Instead, the Dremora hung back and merely observed.
She recognized what it was now. A powerful Dremora called a Xivilai. A servant of the Daedric Prince Molag Bal, the Father of Vampires. It made a lot of sense that this specific type of Dremora was here in the company of a vampire.
Reldith frowned as she and the Xivilai stared at each other. She needed to retreat. She was not prepared to fight such opponents. Swirls of magic energy formed around her hands as she launched a torrent of icicles at the Dremora and it was forced to evade.
With the Dremora momentarily distracted, Reldith ran back towards where she had come from. If she could make it to the main streets, she could get help from the guardsmen, or from anyone else really. There was a chance they would back off as well in order to refrain from creating a bigger incident.
But unfortunately, escaping was not going to be that easy. She stopped running halfway down the street as the hooded vampire suddenly appeared in front of her in a rush of wind and black smoke.
Red eyes glowed from beneath the hood, and Reldith shivered involuntarily even as she prepared herself to fight.
"You're just what I'm looking for," the vampire said, and even though she could not see its face, Reldith knew it was smiling.
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
Dawn came, and with it another round of training for Kratos and the girls.
Anske looked to the west as she and Lydia set off on their first lap down to the city gates. Rorik and Jouane should be well on their way to joining the Whiterun Guard in their campaign. She prayed to the Divines that the two leaders of Rorikstead would emerge safely from their journey. But if they were to fall in their efforts, may they fall honorably in battle so that they enter Sovngarde and perhaps even the Hall of Valor.
Truthfully, she felt as if she should accompany them in their fight against the Forsworn to help avenge her father and the other villagers who died at their hands, but she knew that was foolish notion. Not to mention Kratos would never allow it to begin with. She was nowhere near battle-ready.
The training passed by without much incident as they worked hard to push themselves, especially during the calisthenics portion since that was under the watchful eye of Kratos. Neither of them wanted to disappoint him, and both wanted to improve their strength.
When they were finished, the girls wiped off their sweat with some towels that Lydia had brought along. They took a moment to catch their breath before heading inside, and Anske decided that now was as good a time as any to ask the many questions that had been bubbling up inside her since yesterday.
Kratos was leaning over the bridge railing, staring into the water at some of the fish swimming around, when she approached him. He did not acknowledge her, but she knew that he was aware of her presence and that he was listening.
"Kratos, you've said that we're leaving tomorrow. Where exactly are we going? What are we doing?" she asked. He had yet to fill her or Lydia in on his plans, not that the housecarl necessarily minded that she was kept in the dark.
As usual, Kratos did not answer right away, but when he did, it only served to frustrate Anske.
"We are leaving the city."
Anske grumbled. "I know that. But can you at least explain to me where we're going?"
"South," he replied as he continued to stare into the rippling water beneath them. The fish were extra lively today.
"Why are we going south?"
"Because we need to."
"Gah! You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
Kratos half turned his head towards her. "I do everything with purpose."
"That's not—" Anske sounded exasperated, but then cut herself off and shook her head, realizing it was pointless to try and force Kratos to give an answer when he clearly didn't want to. "Nevermind. Forget I asked. Can we at least spend some time checking out the market today? We need to gather supplies for our journey, right? There are some things I was hoping to get… if you would allow it."
Kratos finally looked at her and then after a brief moment, he grunted an affirmative. "After you eat," he added.
Anske exhaled loudly and nodded. "Thank you." She managed to smile before she went over to Lydia. They had been breaking their fast together right after morning training for the last few days.
"Master Kratos," the housecarl said with a bow, "Will you join us for breakfast this morning?"
Kratos shook his head. "I will meet you at the Skyforge when you are finished."
"Understood, master Kratos." With that said, the two entered Dragonsreach and left Kratos alone on the courtyard bridge.
He studied his hands as his thoughts turned to the long journey ahead. It would be troublesome for him, and his patience would surely be tested, but he thought that maybe busying himself was a good thing after everything that had happened.
They would finish this quest to save a sacred tree–he had already given that goddess his word, and when Kratos said he would do something, nothing in the heavens or the earth could stop him—and then he would take the girl to see these Greybeards and find out himself what all this dovahkiin business was truly about.
From there… well, he would figure out what to do next when the time came and he had more information. At least for now, they had enough of a plan to keep moving forward.
Standing back up to his full height, he glanced once in the direction of Dragonsreach, before turning away and walking towards the gate that led down to the Wind District. He had a blacksmith to visit.
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
"Do you have any guesses? Anything he might have mentioned or that you might have overheard while you were with him the last few days?" Anske asked Lydia for probably the tenth time since she found out that they were leaving the city.
Lydia shook her head and let out a sigh. "Anske, I have told you already. You and I heard the news of our departure at the same time. I had no knowledge of it before, though I had a feeling we would not stay in the city for long. Master Kratos is a warrior of great skill, and the city is far too quiet for someone like him to sit idly. Even if he is training us."
"How can it not bother you that you don't know where we'll be going or why?" Anske said as she gave the housecarl a puzzled look.
"Because I trust that Master Kratos knows what he is doing," she said, and then she shrugged. "I am his housecarl, sworn to his service until the day I die. And it is a great honor to serve someone as great as he. Where he goes, I follow. It's as simple as that."
"And what if he were to one day decide to walk into Oblivion itself?" Anske asked, fascinated that someone who had only known Kratos for a short amount of time could be so loyal and devoted.
"Then I will get to see the planes of Oblivion with my own eyes." Lydia said with complete seriousness, and seemingly without an ounce of fear. "That is why I wish to improve myself so badly. So that I may walk beside my Thane for as long as I can and carry out his will."
"Is that really the only reason you wish to improve yourself?" asked Anske, not quite buying it.
Lydia's laugh was light and surprisingly more feminine than she might have expected given her normal demeanor. Anske realized she had never heard the housecarl laugh before.
"Of course, I also want what every true Nord wants. To bring honor to myself, my family, and my ancestors. To prove to myself that I am a capable and honorable warrior. And to die honorably in the field of battle so that my soul can rest in Sovngarde and, if I'm lucky, the Hall of Valor. And the best way someone like me can accomplish that is to follow someone who is fated for great things. Someone like Master Kratos. After all, he is dovahkiin."
Anske looked away and took a deep breath. "Yes. Of course. He's dovahkiin."
Lydia turned to Anske as they neared their quarters. "I have been wondering… why did you ask Master Kratos to train you? Why do you strive to become a skilled warrior?"
"Because," Anske started to say, but then hesitated. After a moment more of thought, she continued. "Because there are important things I must do, and I need strength enough to do them. And right now… I'm pathetically weak."
They walked in silence for a few steps. Lydia studied the face of her new companion, her master's official apprentice.
"I do not think you are weak, Anske," Lydia finally said. "You are simply untrained. You have the will to become a strong warrior. With time and proper training, I have no doubts that you will get there. Especially under the guidance of someone like Master Kratos."
Anske glanced at her and smiled. "Thank you, Lydia."
As they rounded the corner and walked down the hallway to their quarters, they noticed someone waiting outside Anske's door. Someone in dark blue robes with their hood up was reading a thick tome while pacing in front of their rooms.
Normally, that might be cause for suspicion, but since they were within the confines of Dragonsreach, it was unlikely that this was anyone with ill-intent. This was one of the safest and most secure places in the city.
"Ah, hello there," the figure said as they approached, snapping closed the tome with a loud thump that echoed down the hall.
The hooded figure turned out to be a middle-aged man, and Anske vaguely recognized his face, though she could not quite place where she had seen him before.
"Farengar Secret-Fire," Lydia said with a respectful bow of her head, and Anske was grateful to her that she said his name out loud. "What reason does the jarl's court wizard have to wait on us?"
The wizard tucked the tome under his left arm, a tired but excited smile stretching across his thin face.
"You travel together with the new Thane, correct? The dovhakiin? I have a request… if you would hear it. An important one. It concerns the return of dragons to Skyrim, and the safety of us all."
Anske and Lydia shared a surprised look, and with a shrug and a gesture of her head, Lydia left the decision to Anske. She was only a housecarl, after all, and could not speak for her master. But Anske was something more than that.
Suddenly nervous that she had to make a decision about something that seemed so important, Anske crossed her arms to give herself some comfort and a little more confidence than she felt, and then addressed the wizard.
"Please tell us your request," Anske found herself saying.
Farengar's excited smile widened.
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
The ringing of Eorlund Gray-Mane's hammer could be heard from several streets away.
As Kratos had suspected, the smith's devotion to his craft was on a level few were willing and able to reach. There was a reason why he was considered the greatest smith in the land. Even though the sun had only risen, Eorlund was already hard at work, and Kratos was certain that the smith had worked late into the previous evening as well. He seemed like the sort.
Kratos entered the compound of the Companions, and as he walked towards the Skyforge and past the great mead hall of Jorrvaskr, he did not see a soul. For a group as famous and well-respected as the Companions were supposed to be, their numbers seemed awfully thin and their headquarters far too quiet.
The total lack of security was disappointing. Either they were overly confident in their ability to defend themselves or they were incredibly careless and irresponsible. Kratos disapproved.
To his surprise, once he moved further down the path past Jorrvaskr, he actually did finally see someone. Thankfully, it was not Aela.
There was a stout man in armor that was the color of silver standing off to the side at the base of the Skyforge, one hand reaching out to touch the rock face. Black fur draped across his shoulders and partially covered his gray hair, and a well-kept beard that reached a hand's width past his chin matched his hair.
He appeared to be unarmed, despite his quality armor, and again Kratos wondered if these warriors were so confident in their abilities and in the safety of their compound that they did not feel the need to carry their weapons around with them.
Perhaps sensing that there was someone else there, the veteran warrior—for what else could he be but one—turned and stared right at Kratos like he knew exactly where he was even with his back turned. A look of surprise and recognition crossed the old and weathered face of the man as he took in the sight of Kratos.
Then the old warrior moved towards Kratos, not once dropping his gaze, and Kratos found himself stopping to wait. There was strength in the man's every step that seemed contrary to his age, and Kratos sensed a strong predator-like aura from within the old warrior. Notably, he could detect no hostile intent at all, though that did not mean Kratos let his guard down.
From what he could see, this man was probably a member of the Companions. Likely a senior member or part of the leadership if Kratos were to guess. He was curious what the man wished to speak to him about, and since Kratos had told the girls to meet him here after they ate, and the business with Eorlund was not likely to take long, he had a little time to spare.
"A good day to you, Thane Kratos," greeted the old warrior with a respectful nod. Apparently, he already knew of Kratos, and the Spartan wondered in what manner the man had heard of him. Was it from the blacksmith? Or perhaps Aela? Or some other source?
Kratos studied the old warrior's weathered and wrinkled face. He noted the dark tattoo on his right cheek. The silver eyes so light they made it seem like he was blind. The impressive wolf motif of his finely crafted armor. The dignity and confidence with which the man carried himself.
The old warrior was at ease here—not surprising since this was his group's headquarters—but even more than that, he was at ease in front of Kratos. Very few people acted that way around him, even among those from Rorikstead who had spent more time in his presence and should by all accounts be more relaxed with him.
"What do you want?" Kratos said.
The old warrior gave him a friendly smile. "I only wished to speak with you. Nothing more, nothing less."
Kratos doubted that. "Then speak."
In the background, the sound of Eorlund's steady hammering echoed out from the Skyforge.
"Allow me to first introduce myself," said the old warrior, bringing a hand up to press against his chest. "I am Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions."
Kratos had the feeling it was an important title, but he knew not the significance of it. If he was supposed to react to that revelation, then Kodlak was bound to be disappointed.
Kodlak paused for a moment, as if waiting for Kratos to say something, then when it became obvious that Kratos had nothing to say, the old warrior continued. His voice was full of pride and yet heavy with sadness as he spoke.
"The Companions have a long and storied history that stretches back five thousand years. A history full of heroes and legends, of epic battles and decisive wars that shaped the world as we know it." Kodlak turned to stare at the nearby structure of Jorrvaskr. "We were once the strongest band of fighters in all of Tamriel, and the world trembled beneath the march of our boots and the sight of our forces, but those days have long since passed. Now, our pack is small and our influence stretches only across the province of Skyrim."
Kratos frowned. He could not see the point of Kodlak's monologue. He was certain this was supposed to be more than a simple history lesson about the Companions.
"The Companions of today are still formidable, do not misunderstand me. My shield-brothers and sisters are strong, skilled, and brave warriors all. I would not be afraid to face any opponent with them at my side. But none of us could fight a dragon in single combat and win." He smiled again at Kratos. "As a pack, perhaps we would stand a chance against such a foe. But it would not be easy, and some of us would likely die or be seriously injured in the battle."
Kratos said nothing, though his lips twitched into a slight frown. He was beginning to suspect the reason for this conversation.
"When I first heard about you, I thought you were a fraud and a charlatan. Here was another warrior inflating his achievements and exaggerating his skills. There are plenty enough that do that around here. But further investigation proved that you were, in fact, all too real. Then I thought that perhaps someone as powerful as you had come to Whiterun to seek out the Companions. That perhaps someone of your strength could raise us all up to the heights we were once famous for."
"Not interested," Kratos said flatly.
Kodlak chuckled to himself. "I know. I hope you will forgive an old man for his foolish hopes, but I am not here to recruit you today. When you did not approach us over the last few days that you've been here, I knew that we could not entice you to join and that you had no interest in us. I also knew that someone like you did not need to join the Companions in order to achieve greatness.
What I instead wished to say is that sometime in the future, if you would be so inclined, perhaps we might work together. And more importantly, if there ever comes a time when the Companions would have need of your aid, I hope you would be willing to at least listen to our request. We would not begrudge you if you were to decline, of course."
Kratos did not answer right away, and they stared at each other in silence for a time measured only by the clanging of Eorlund's hammer.
From what Kodlak had said, it seemed like the Companions were on the decline. Had been for a while now, apparently. That would explain why their compound seemed so empty, and why Kodlak spoke with such a heavy tone of voice. They appeared to have some troubles, either now or on the horizon, that they might not be able to survive without his help.
Kratos could at least respect that as their leader, or part of their leadership—he still was not sure of their command structure—Kodlak was trying to find every avenue to ensure the safety and survival of the Companions as a whole. Asking for help was never easy, especially for proud and powerful warriors, and it spoke to Kodlak's wisdom, humility, and greater responsibility that he would reach out like this.
Finally, after some internal grumbling about whether they were worth any effort on his part to help them, Kratos gave his answer.
"I will consider it."
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
The wizard's request had been simple enough, or so it seemed. The jarl had tasked Farengar with researching more about dragons, and specifically how to defeat them—without the dragonborn needing to be there, of course. And Farengar's research thus far, while in its infancy, pointed to the possible existence of a stone tablet that might contain more information about the dragons.
Specifically, Farengar had called it 'Dragonstone.' It was apparently some kind of map with the location of ancient dragon burial sites across Skyrim. When she asked why that was important, the court wizard had been all too happy to explain.
"You're not as simple-minded as you look, hmm? You're a thinker… perhaps even a scholar?" the wizard had said with interest, much to her annoyance. But he continued on before she could say anything about the slight. "I believe studying these burial sites in detail would yield more clues and lead to answers with regards to dragons. Beyond excavating the remains and whatever other treasures, books, and items that were buried with them, at minimum, the map will give us a better idea of just how many dragons there might have been in the past, and where the dragons appeared to be concentrated, among other potentially valuable information."
When Anske did not respond right away after he was finished explaining, Farengar immediately told her that they would of course be well-rewarded for their efforts. And that was when the idea struck her.
"In return for doing this task… can you teach me magic?" she asked hopefully.
Farengar's eyebrows shot up at that. "A prospective student of the magic arts, are you? Well, unfortunately I'm not so good at teaching. And I'm already too busy with my work for the jarl to spare proper time to teach anyway. You should try your luck at the College of Winterhold instead."
But Anske was not going to let go of the chance that easily. If the wizard could not teach her directly, then perhaps he could supply her would some books that she could learn from, as Jouane had suggested to her. After some thought, Farengar agreed to give her a few books he thought might be useful for someone learning magic. He would have them ready for her by tonight, along with a map of where Bleak Falls Barrow was supposed to be.
"But don't forget that these books cannot replace having an actual teacher," he warned her as they parted ways.
It was while they were wolfing down their food—they ate quickly so that they could meet up with Kratos—that Lydia finally voiced her thoughts on the matter.
"I'm not so sure Master Kratos will be happy about this," Lydia said uneasily.
"He'll understand," Anske said with more confidence than she felt. "Besides, Farengar says the ruin is to the south. And Kratos said we're going to be traveling south. I'm sure we can make it work."
Lydia looked skeptical but said nothing else as they finished their meal.
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
"Dragonbone is extremely difficult material to work with," Eorlund explained with a shrug. "I have done my best, but I've only finished a few of the smaller pieces you commissioned, besides this shield. The other weapons, the second shield, and the armor sets will take me at least another month at best, if I am to do them properly. There's simply no way for me to finish even one of those by tomorrow, even if I were to work through the night."
"That is fine." Kratos did not expect the blacksmith to finish the entire order so soon, and the items he had finished would certainly be immediately useful.
He picked up the dragonbone shield, inspecting its sturdiness, and found it to be better than he expected. Then he picked up and inspected the other finished items: a one-handed sword, three daggers, and a bow. The smith had done a marvelous job, and all the finished pieces were expertly crafted.
Eorlund wiped some sweat from his face with a towel. "You are satisfied with these? They are some of my best works in a long time."
Kratos grunted an affirmative.
Eorlund grinned, showing a sliver of white teeth. "I'm glad you approve." He let out a breath. "You know, the more complicated pieces require some ebony. I've had to use some of my personal stash of ebony ingots that I've been collecting over the years."
Kratos turned his head to look squarely at the smith. "Name your price."
Eorlund waved his hand. "No, no. Ebony is rare and expensive, and I have already agreed to the commission for the price of using the extra dragonbone for my own desires. No, think it would be better and easier for us both if you were to find raw ebony on your travels. Someone like you is bound to run into such things, I'm sure of it. If you do, just make sure to set some aside for me, if you could."
"What does it look like?"
Eorlund reached down and pulled out both raw and refined ebony to show him. Ebony turned out to be a black ore, barely reflecting any light at all, and when Kratos hefted it, he was surprised at how light it was. Squeezing it in his hand, he also noted that it was very durable, though he did not squeeze too hard since he did not want to destroy the valuable ore.
"Hmm." Kratos gave him a nod as he secured one of the daggers with a blade about the length of half his forearm, horizontally across his lower back. The dagger came with a finely made leather sheath and strap, and the other weapons came with similar accessories. The bow came with a leather quiver that was already filled with arrows.
"Only steel arrows," Eorlund explained, "But they'll work well enough to start with. I can make better ones for you, but you'd have to get me the proper materials first. Or, if you'd like, you can get me more dragonbone and I can craft arrows out of that too."
"I am leaving tomorrow," Kratos said as he tested the draw strength of the bow and found it to be excellent.
Eorlund placed his calloused hands on his hips. "When will you be back?"
"I do not know."
Nodding slowly, Eorlund reached for his tools. "Well, like I said. I'll be done with everything in a month or so. Four maybe five weeks at most. I'll set them aside until you return. They'll be safe enough with me."
Anske and Lydia arrived shortly after that, with Eorlund having already returned to his work. The smith did not acknowledge their arrival, his eyes concentrating solely on the armor chest piece that he was forging.
Kratos, upon seeing them arrive, tossed the bow and quiver full of arrows to Anske, who barely managed to react fast enough to catch them without letting them drop.
"That is yours," he told her before she could even say anything. Then he gestured towards the sword and shield on the table that Eorlund had placed them on. "For you," he told Lydia.
Lydia shook her head. "But, Master Kratos… these are priceless treasures. I'm not worthy of such items," she said, shocked at the unexpected turn of events.
"Kratos…" Anske started to say, thinking the same as the housecarl.
Kratos growled at them. "They are yours." He then gave them both a dagger from the two that remained. "As are these."
Before they could protest further, or say anything else, he walked past them and down the steps. And they had no choice but to follow after him with their new equipment in hand.
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
With the sun shining overhead, providing light and warmth to the city, the great market square of Whiterun was packed with people. There had to be several hundred people at least, with more coming in as the day wore on. Every stall within the market was open, with shopkeepers hawking their wares and haggling with customers. A few other would-be merchants laid out carpets on the street to sell whatever they could.
Pairs of guardsmen walked about, with several more stationed at every entry point to the market, providing a sense of security for both customers and vendors alike. There would be little trouble tolerated here.
Seeing it all for the first time, Anske could not help but gasp. She stopped in her tracks at the top of the stairs leading down from the Wind District. Only a few people came and went using these stairs, with guards at both the top and the bottom keeping an eye on things.
They had been here the night before to go to The Bannered Mare, but what a stark difference it was during the daytime.
"Come on, Anske. We should keep close to Master Kratos, otherwise it will be difficult for us to move through the crowd ourselves and keep up with him," Lydia said before grabbing her wrist and pulling her along.
Sure enough, where Kratos walked, the sea of people parted and kept their distance. It was as if there was some invisible field around him that repelled anyone who tried to get too close. Plenty of eyes widened and jaws dropped as more and more people caught sight of him, which was easy enough when he stood literally head and shoulders above everyone else.
Lydia, still clutching her new sword in one hand since she hadn't had time to secure it to her belt, at least managed to drape the shield over her back on their way out of the Skyforge. With her other hand, she dragged Anske along as they kept themselves close to Kratos. The dagger she had received had been hastily stuffed into her right greave, and it pressed uncomfortably between her armor and her leg.
Anske had slung the bow and quiver around her so that they hung diagonally across her back while the dagger she managed to secure next to her sword. She could sense the gazes of many strangers and it made her feel uneasy, though she did her best to ignore it.
Her head swiveled continuously, her eyes drawn to all the sights, smells, and sounds that threatened to overwhelm her. A few vendors called out to them, but she could not quite make out what they were seeing above the din of the crowd.
Kratos stopped abruptly, and were it not for Lydia, Anske might have run into him since she was not paying much attention.
"Which merchants do you trust?" he asked Lydia.
The housecarl thought for a moment, then she looked up at him. "Follow me, master." She still held on to Anske's wrist, but this time instead of following Kratos, they led the way.
It was a little more troublesome since they had to push through a few people before they quickly moved aside once they saw Kratos following behind them, but they made their way eventually to a larger stall filled with all manner of produce.
A beautiful woman of at least thirty winters worked the stall and had finished selling two baskets of apples to a customer when they emerged from the crowd. Her eyes lit up when she saw them, and her smile seemed dazzling to Anske, who could not help but be in awe.
How could a woman this beautiful be a mere street merchant? At worst, she should have been a lady of nobility from her looks alone.
"Lydia! I didn't expect to see you here today, and in such fine company, I might add," the woman said as she glanced between the three of them, her eyes resting on Kratos with great interest.
Lydia coughed and inclined her head in greeting. "Carlotta, it's good to see you. This is Anske, and behind me is Thane Kratos. I have been given the honor of serving as his housecarl."
Carlotta's delicate eyebrows shot up. "A great honor, that is. It seems a lot has happened to you recently, and I'm glad to see you doing so well. Congratulations!" Lydia looked embarrassed and mumbled something under her breath. Then Carlotta turned towards Kratos and lowered her head. "Greetings to you, honored Thane. And to you, Anske. I am Carlotta Valentia, a humble merchant here in Whiterun. May the Divines watch over you both."
"Hmph." Kratos spared her a momentary glance, and then his gaze moved to the crowd, as if he were looking for something.
Carlotta blinked, unprepared for such a cold response and unsure if she had somehow offended him.
Anske smiled at the merchant, grabbing her attention. "Nice to meet you, Carlotta. You're very beautiful."
Carlotta laughed, only partially recovering from the seemingly disastrous first impression she had made with quite possibly one of the most powerful people in the city.
"You are too kind, my dear. You are young still, but even now I see you're already blossoming into becoming a great beauty of your own."
Anske's cheeks reddened at the compliment. "So, how do you know Lydia?"
Carlotta grabbed Anske's hand. "It's a funny story, actually. You see—"
"I think we can save the storytelling and chitchat for another time. Master Kratos seems to be in a hurry, and we should not dally any longer than necessary," Lydia interrupted them.
Carlotta had a bemused expression on her face as she stared at Lydia. With a shrug, she said, "Ah, then I guess it can't be helped then. I'll tell you some other time." Anske nodded and Lydia let out a sigh but said nothing else. But then her eyes finally caught sight of the sword that Lydia held in her hand. "Wait! What kind of sword is this? I've never seen material like this before." she said.
Lydia looked sheepish as she told her what it was, and that it had been gifted to her by her Thane.
"Dragonbone! Simply amazing…" Carlotta said with a shake of her head. A look of envy flashed across her face before it went away as quickly as it came. She turned to Kratos. "So, how might this humble merchant serve the newest Thane of Whiterun?"
"Supplies," he said, glancing down at her again. "For the road."
Carlotta gestured towards her produce. "All of these are freshly grown and delivered from Pelagia Farm outside the city. Please, pick out whatever you wish. Or, if you could tell me how long you'll be traveling for, I can put something together for you myself."
Kratos took a few seconds to think about it. "Two months," he told her.
"That's a long journey," Carlotta remarked as she glanced towards Lydia with eager eyes, then back at Kratos. "You'll need plenty of supplies then. That will not come cheap, especially with prices these days. Though I will, of course, give you a discount since Lydia has been a good friend to me these past few years."
"Thank you, Carlotta," said Lydia, and made to bow before Carlotta made a fuss and stopped her.
"No need for that, Lydia. I'm not some noble lady or esteemed master," Carlotta said with a little exasperation as she held the new housecarl upright to keep her from bowing. "But I wasn't joking about the prices. They have gone way up due to the war, and all these refugees have put a strain on supplies too. I'll do my best to help but I still need to earn a living. I have Mila to look after, as you know."
"Where is Mila? I thought she'd be here," Lydia asked, glancing around in case she somehow missed the little girl.
"I sent her off on an errand," Carlotta told her.
"I see," Lydia said. The housecarl looked to Kratos, who nodded once before he resumed his vigil over the crowd around them.
"Name your price, Carlotta, and we will pay it. The reason we're here is because I know you'll treat us fairly," Lydia said, patting the two enchanted coin pouches filled to the brim that were hanging from her belt. The coins within jingled noisily, and Carlotta smiled.
Enchanted coin pouches were prevalent all over Tamriel as an easy-to-use method to transport large quantities of coins. Enough of the pouches were made that even those who were poor usually had them. The amount of coins that could be stored within depended on the quality of the enchantment.
Lesser quality pouches usually held anywhere from 100-500 coins each. Mid-tier quality pouches could hold 1,000-5,000 coins. And the highest tier pouches could hold 10,000 or more. Of course, only the wealthiest of people had need of or could even afford to have the highest tier pouches.
Between the money Kratos had received from the jarl for his feats in service to Whiterun, as well as the additional money that Proventus had provided for her recently at the jarl's direction to go towards their travel supplies, they had more than enough coin for anything they could ever want.
Not to mention the share of the loot from the bandits that Kratos and the Rorikstead survivors had fought prior to arriving in the city—Rorik had given Kratos that share before he left, and the large pouch he had on his own belt was from that.
Kratos could not be bothered to count the number of coins he had, so one of the tasks he assigned to Lydia the last few days to keep her busy was to make an accounting of his newfound wealth. When she was finished, she was absolutely astonished at how much he had—nearly 75,000 septims! 74,850 to be exact.
60,000 had been from the jarl directly, while the rest was from Kratos' share of the loot and bounty for the entirety of the Shadowblood Bandits. That was more gold than Lydia had ever seen in one place before. More gold than she had ever hoped to see in her lifetime even.
It was a truly mind-boggling amount to her. But then again, what was the price of saving the City of Whiterun from a dragon attack? Or for saving the lives of Whiterun citizens who were in mortal danger? The jarl probably thought that what he had given wasn't even enough, but of course the treasury could only handle so much free expenditure.
As a guardsman, Lydia received a monthly tax-free salary of 100 septims, so 1,200 septims a year. Thankfully, she slept at the barracks, which meant she saved on rent. She was also given one free meal a day from the barracks kitchens. By minimizing all other expenses, Lydia was able to save on average about 25 septims a month, which was more than what most of her fellow guards saved.
That meant it would have taken her about 250 years to save the amount that Kratos now had. A fact that was difficult to wrap her mind around.
Even Kratos had seemed momentarily surprised when she had told him, especially when she explained just how much that was when compared to how much she used to make as a guardsman.
"Two months for three people, then? I imagine you'll be wanting to get some meat. Anoriath will give you fair prices as best he can," Carlotta said.
Lydia nodded once. "I know. We'll be visiting his stall next."
Carlotta returned the nod with one of her own and then took a deep breath. Her brows knit together in thought as she looked over her stall, already figuring out the best bundle of supplies she could put together for them.
"Alright then. Let me see what I can do for you."
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
In the end, they spent almost 3,000 septims at the market. An exorbitant amount according to Lydia and Anske, but a large part of what they spent went towards enchanted items, so it was not as bad as it seemed. However, Carlotta had been correct about prices for most consumable goods being inflated to obscene levels.
Under Kratos' direction, they bought a necklace that augmented the wearer's magical abilities for 400 septims. Another 600 septims was spent on two Rings of Minor Health, meaning they were 300 each. And another 500 went towards a Ring of Minor Strength.
The remaining 1,500 septims went to food, drinks, and camping supplies that should last the three of them for two months. While they accounted for three people, and even accounted for Kratos' larger size and expected appetite, Kratos did not tell them that he barely needed to eat or drink like they did, so they had more than plenty for the journey.
The necklace supposedly condensed the wearer's magicka reserves and thus increased the amount of magicka the wearer could wield while simultaneously making it easier to manipulate magic to cast spells. The effect was small, supposedly only a 10% boost, but it was more than Anske could have hoped for at this junction of her life.
When she put it on, she felt a slight surge of energy in her body that seemed to indicate it was working, though she was still unfamiliar with the sensation of magicka and could not actively manipulate it since she was completely untrained. It was therefore difficult to say for sure if it worked as it was supposed to.
The two Minor Health rings were said to improve the wearer's health and constitution, meaning they were less likely to get sick or injured, and would heal slightly faster than they normally would. Similar to the necklace, the estimated improvement to health and constitution was only 10%. Anske and Lydia received one each.
Lastly, the Ring of Minor Strength went to Lydia. Since she was going to be carrying a shield and would be a frontline combatant in battle—whereas Anske would fight from range with her bow or her magic, whenever she got around to learning any—the boost to her strength would prove most useful. Again, that boost was said to be 10%.
Of course, given the prices of such items, both Anske and Lydia initially tried to refuse, and even tried to say that Kratos should buy such items for himself instead. But Kratos had insisted, and they could not argue against him. They could only express their gratitude and think of how lucky they were that they could have such things.
Between the enchanted jewelry and the dragonbone weapons, they were already far richer and better equipped than they ever thought they would be. So much so that Anske even felt like a proper adventurer despite her lack of experience.
There were flashier pieces of equipment that they could have bought, and enchanted items that were more powerful than what they ended up getting, but Kratos did not want to purchase them this time around. He seemed to distrust the effectiveness of the items.
When Lydia said that these shopkeepers could be trusted, and that the items would do as they were described, Kratos simply told her that he wanted to make sure with smaller items first before investing in the more powerful ones.
"Remember, you must always rely on your own strength first, and not depend overly on such trinkets," he told them.
They were leaving the last shop of the day and about to return to Dragonsreach when Kratos spotted a tailor's shop nearby. One look at the two women and the worn clothing that they were wearing, and he led them into the shop, where he proceeded to spend another 200 septims on extra clothes and coats for them and another 70 for himself after the girls gently reminded him of the now ragged clothing he wore.
It seemed nobody wished to tell him lest they might insult and thus anger him. In truth he had barely noticed, having gotten used to the torn rags he had been wearing all this time. They covered him enough that he was not indecent, but they were certainly not pleasing to look at.
The tailor's name was Breyla, an Imperial from the city of Kvatch, in the province of Cyrodiil. Her clothing styles were closer to the Imperial style of dress, she told them, but she managed to bring some flair of the Nords into them as well.
She was so ecstatic to do work for the new Thane of Whiterun—between the official announcement from Dragonsreach and the tale of his fight with Uthgerd, his fame had spread throughout the city—that she stumbled over herself trying to please him. Even offering him a discount right away for whatever clothes he wished to buy, so long as he would say that it was she who had clothed him.
Clothing the new Thane would elevate her status among the tailors in the city, bringing more clients to her door. She also did her best to make sure the women were happy with what they got. If they were part of his retinue, then she might still profit from clothing them well.
While the designs of the clothes were simpler than the tailor would have liked, on Kratos' strong insistence, all of them were of good quality material and were expertly made.
His new undergarments fit nicely and were of much better quality than what he previously wore. He could tell immediately at the feel of it against his skin, and they stretched comfortably so that he could still maneuver easily without ripping them.
The trousers, a dark brown that was nearly black, covered his legs entirely as they went down into his boots. Over the trousers went his customary loincloth that was of a slightly lighter shade of brown and fastened with a thick leather double buckle belt around his waist. There were various loops and holes in the hand-width belt through which he could attach things to his belt easily, and for that addition alone he was greatly pleased.
Lastly, though he decided not to wear a shirt of any kind, he did purchase a thick fur coat to provide some cover for his naked upper torso. He did not purchase it for the elements, for they could not adversely affect his body, but instead he had gotten it solely to cover up his body without being too restrictive like a shirt would be.
When they were finished, Kratos looked more like a warrior lord and a proper dovahkiin than he ever had before.
Since they had purchased a lot of supplies but had no need of them until the next day when they would leave, the merchants all promised to have the supplies delivered to the Dragonsreach stables in the Wind District later in the evening after they closed shop for the day.
Lydia was tasked with waiting for the deliveries and making sure that everything was in order for their departure.
They were halfway up the steps to the Wind District, the sun at its zenith in the sky, when a familiar voice, strong and proud, called out to Kratos from behind.
"Thane Kratos!"
The Spartan stopped his ascent with one leg raised to the next step and turned his head slightly to the side. Lydia and Anske turned around completely, curious to know who had come to call upon Kratos in public like this. Nobody else seemed to want to even approach him all day so far, and the only people to speak with him were the merchants they approached.
It turned out to be Uthgerd the Unbroken, the sun shining on the steel of her full plate armor as she stood at the bottom of the steps and stared up at them. Even though she was a true-blooded Nord, she looked like she could be a Breton knight in that moment. Her shoulder-length copper-colored hair was tucked neatly behind her ears and two thin braids ran back from the sides of her head.
A giant warhammer hung diagonally across her back, its large, decorated head poking out from her side. Over that, she had slung what seemed to be a sizable travel pack—it looked like she was ready to go on a trip of her own.
"Is it true?" she asked. "You are leaving Whiterun?"
Already, people nearby had stopped to bear witness to the interaction. Those who had heard of the fight at The Bannered Mare wondered if there might be another brawl unfolding here in broad daylight. The guards also paid close attention, a few clutching their spears tighter, though they were unlikely to intervene immediately since Kratos was now a Thane and obviously favored by the jarl.
Kratos did not respond, though he remained where he was, and Lydia ended up stepping in for him. Her face was set into a hard mask as she glared down at the woman who had beaten her the night before. Her face still stung from getting punched in the face, and even after Jouane's healing there was still some slight bruising, but the humiliation of that defeat stung even more.
"The Thane's plans are none of your concern. Speak plainly, what business do you have now with my master? Do you wish to settle the score from last night?" Lydia placed a hand on the hilt of her new dragonbone sword.
Uthgerd turned her attention to the housecarl, and they stared at each other for a few heartbeats. And then, much to the shock of everyone there, Uthgerd let out a breath, bowed her head respectfully, and placed her fist to her breast.
A few bystanders audibly gasped, while murmurs whispered towards the slowly growing audience. Some of the guards broke their stances and turned their heads to look at each other, eyebrows raised. Uthgerd was famous precisely because she bowed to no one as one of the toughest fighters in the city.
"Peace, Lydia, honored housecarl to the mighty Thane Kratos." Uthgerd raised her head. "You fought well, and I must admit that was the best fight I'd had in more than a year. But in the end, even though I struck first, I lost to your master overwhelmingly. I couldn't even handle one blow from him. I respect his great strength, and I accept my defeat without issue. I am not here to stir trouble."
Lydia glanced up at Kratos, who still had not turned around, and then looked to Anske, who was staring at Uthgerd like she was trying to figure out what was going inside the warrior's head.
"If you're not here for another fight, then why are you here?" Lydia asked.
Uthgerd adjusted the pack on her back. "It's simple. I wish to pledge myself to the service of your Thane. If the rumors of his feats are true, then nothing would please me more than to fight alongside the dovhakiin henceforth, for honor and glory."
Lydia, Anske, and several people from the crowd spoke out at the same time.
"What?!"
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
Kratos frowned as he mulled over the events that had unfolded thus far. He stared up into the ceiling as he lay in the bed that had been provided for him—they had replaced the original bed in his room with a larger one to accommodate someone of his stature.
He reached out his right hand, clenching it into a loose fist. He might have been angry once, and rightfully so given recent developments, but now all he felt was a hollow annoyance. A weariness that made him not really care anymore. Not that he actually cared much to begin with.
While he was initially annoyed about Anske's promise to the court wizard that they would retrieve this so-called 'Dragonstone' for him, Kratos could not begrudge her reasons for it. Thankfully, the ruin where the tablet was said to be located was in the same direction that they were going to be traveling anyway, so they would not have to deviate far from their original course.
The sudden allegiance of the Nord warrior Uthgerd was both a surprise and a headache. He had refused, of course, but Uthgerd was like most Nords he had encountered so far: stubborn to a fault. Only death would keep her from following Kratos, and he had neither the inclination nor the energy to kill her simply because she wanted to follow him.
He had not officially acknowledged or accepted her into the group, but Lydia had already told him that Uthgerd was waiting at the Dragonsreach stables with her own horse. There was only one way out of the city, and they would not be able to slip by her unnoticed. He was sure that the warrior would follow them once they left the city even if they told her not to.
Then, sometime after midday, a male acolyte from the Temple of Kynareth—named Jenssen—visited Dragonsreach in search of Kratos, claiming to have an important delivery. It was the map he had been promised, along with written instructions and a rough sketch of the dagger they were looking for.
Lydia had been stationed outside his door at the time, and that was how she learned of their original mission. She seemed to approve of their quest to save the Gildergreen and she gave him a few words of praise for accepting such a task. He did not think it was possible for the housecarl to hold him in even higher esteem and respect, but she did.
Without a doubt, the wheel of fate was turning faster around him, and he could already feel himself slowly losing control of his destiny. If he was not careful, he might lose control completely.
One way to regain some measure of control, Kratos knew, was to get away from the city for a while, which was why he was very much looking forward to leaving. There were far too many threads of fate here, too many eyes watching, both mortal and immortal, and he did not want to get overly entangled and trapped here if he could help it.
Some part of him felt like this was all a mistake, that he should never have involved himself in the troubles of this world. In the troubles of the girl. But he was here now, and he could not deny that he was, however slightly, now invested in the girl's fate. It was foolish of him, he knew, but he convinced himself that it was only temporary.
Once the girl can stand on her own, then I can find some place to settle alone and in peace.
A knock on his door broke him away from his thoughts. It was Lydia, telling him that it was time for their afternoon training session. Anske was already out there waiting for him as well. The two of them were getting used to the training regimen in only a few short days, which pleased him.
He moved quicker than his body should have allowed given his great bulk and stepped out of his room. The two girls bowed their heads at his appearance, and he frowned slightly. Lydia's overly respectful behavior seemed to be rubbing off on the girl.
Their training session went over the basic sword techniques he taught them once more. Kratos spoke only once during the entire session, and that was to remind them that the reason they were learning and practicing such basic techniques was to set the foundation for all the more advanced techniques they would learn later on while also instilling in them the muscle memory needed to make fighting—and killing—much easier.
When they were finished, as expected, the jarl invited them to dine together one last time before they left.
It was a small affair, thankfully, and consisted only of the jarl and his family and Kratos and company. Even Proventus was absent, supposedly spending time with his daughter in the city. Farengar was locked in his study researching dragons day and night, barely leaving to get fresh air. Irileth had yet to return from the Western Watchtower—apparently, she had taken charge of the clean up and reconstruction there.
A messenger had also arrived prior to supper to let the jarl know that Rorik and Jouane had joined up with the guardsmen without incident at Fort Greymoor and the army had already begun their march west. Jarl Balgruuf readily shared the update with his guests, though only Anske reacted outwardly to the news.
The jarl proceeded to tell them that Rorikstead and the western border would soon be secured without issue and the Forsworn cleansed from Whiterun lands—Kratos somehow doubted it would be that easy.
Throughout the supper, the odd one among the jarl's child who was wreathed in a dark aura stared at Kratos almost the entire time. Kratos ignored the dark-haired child, of course, and eventually the jarl sent the boy away when it became too much for even him to bear.
Balgruuf apologized to Kratos, telling him that the boy seemed to be behaving strangely for the past few weeks and he had no clue why. Kratos did not take the bait, naturally. He was not foolish enough to meddle in whatever was going on with the child the eve before he was to depart the city. That was someone else's problem to solve.
The jarl tried to learn more about Anske without making it seem like he was digging too hard, but Kratos could see through his act easily enough. Balgruuf really did suspect her of being dragonborn, of that he was certain now. The question was, what was the jarl going to do about it?
When they were finished and ready to retire to their rooms, the jarl had some parting words for the three of them.
"Know that you all will always be welcome in my halls and in my city, so long as I am Jarl of Whiterun." He turned to Kratos. "The service you have rendered to the Hold is immeasurable, Thane Kratos, and we would not dare to ask any more of you. But I hope that if the time came when we are in need of aid, that you might lend us your strength one more time."
Kratos gave him a single nod, which could be interpreted in several ways, though the jarl did not ask for clarification.
Balgruuf inclined his head in thanks. "I have taken the liberty of having your horses replaced with the finest steeds we could spare. They will take you far and serve you well. May the Divines watch over you on your journey, friends."
With that they left the jarl behind with his two children and his brother, who called after them with some words of encouragement and wishing that they have glorious battles ahead.
"I will check on the supplies one more time, my Thane. And I will report back on the horses that have been given to us," Lydia said with a bow before a grunt of acknowledgement from Kratos sent her away.
Anske, who looked like she was about to fall over from weariness, bade him a goodnight and went directly to bed, leaving Kratos to himself.
He ended up back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling lost in thought as the night wore on. When Lydia returned to tell him that all was in order and that the horses were better than she anticipated, Kratos waved her off and told her to get some rest.
The journey ahead was going to be a long one. He could already tell.
Ω=o=Ω=o=Ω
At dawn, Kratos, Anske, and Lydia marched down the steps between the Cloud and Wind Districts. The guards at the Cloud District gate watched them with a mixture of curiosity and envy, wondering what adventures they were about to go on.
None of the important figures from Dragonsreach were awake to see them off, which Kratos did not mind in the slightest.
When they entered the stables, they saw Uthgerd was there waiting for them. She was brushing her horse, which was fittingly armored with steel plates and chainmail, echoing her own attire. Based on the bundles and packs strapped to her horse, she was bringing her own supplies. There was an eager look in her eyes as she grinned at their arrival.
Kratos proceeded to ignore her as he went to his own horse, a massive warhorse with bulging muscles that appeared to have been picked specifically to carry his massive frame. It almost looked like they had taken a regular horse and then used magic or some other means to enlarge it.
Lydia and Anske gave Uthgerd a cursory greeting, and the armored warrior's grin widened. They had discussed the matter of Uthgerd on their way down to the stables, and Kratos had said he did not care what the warrior did so long as she did not make herself a nuisance and, when it came down to it, she followed his commands.
Since the warrior was obviously going to follow them wherever they went regardless, Anske suggested they might as well let her travel with them officially. And both women were certain that Uthgerd would follow whatever Kratos commanded of her, now that he had 'won her over' thanks to that epic beatdown back at The Bannered Mare, so they were not worried about that.
"You will not regret this. I swear it," Uthgerd told them when they informed her that she could join them. She knelt down in the middle of the stable and swore once more to follow Kratos loyally, much to his annoyance.
The four of them rode out of the stables and through the largely empty streets of Whiterun, with a fifth horse tied to Lydia's laden with the bulk of their supplies. They moved at a leisurely pace, the clip-clop of the horses' hooves on the stone streets were loud in the quiet morning air.
The few people up and about so early in the morning watched them pass by with wonder as they recognized Kratos leading the way. Their departure would likely be the talk of the town for the rest of the day, with plenty of people speculating where they might be headed and why.
When they neared the gate, Adrianne Avenicci and her husband Ulberth War-Bear were setting up their smithy for the day ahead. They glanced over at the four riders and, recognizing Anske and Lydia, they waved in greeting. The two young women waved back as they passed, noting that Adrianne's eyes lingered longer on their new dragonbone weapons than on Kratos.
The guards at the main gate saluted and bowed their heads as they passed, and Kratos wondered if any of the other Thanes received the same treatment. He then realized that he did not know if there were any other Thanes in the city to begin with. If he recalled correctly, the last time a person was awarded the title of Thane was a decade ago. Was that person still alive? And for what feats did he earn the title?
Kratos shook his head. The answers to those questions did not matter, and he dropped that line of thinking as they passed through the outer gate under the watchful gazes of the guards on duty.
Before long, they were rounding the main road that curved around the southwestern point of the city, straightening east towards the river. To their right were the refugee camps, which were a sea of multicolored tents that stretched west and south. Kratos estimated there were a few thousand souls camped outside the walls.
He scanned the tents, as if he might pick out which one was for the survivors of Rorikstead, but soon they were past the camps and riding next to farms and fields. Much of the snow had been removed from the fields, but great swathes of it remained across the nearby landscape in areas that were unnecessary to clear immediately.
To their left, the southern section of the city walls rose high up from the ground. Closer inspection revealed that part of the battlements seemed in disrepair, with sections crumbling and cracked and others covered in vines. Kratos took one look and estimated that he could take the southern wall with a few hundred Spartans and siege ladders alone in a night assault.
There was much that could be improved with the city's defenses, from the basic structural repairs all the way to adding more siege engines and traps. If the walls were magically enhanced or reinforced, or if there were other defensive magics at play, then perhaps he could be more accepting of the sorry state of the defenses. But if there was no magic along the walls… then the Siege of Whiterun should be short and swift for any competent besieging commander, and Whiterun deserved to fall for their negligence.
They rode in silence for a while, passing a handful of merchants and laborers who were on their way to make their living. There were a handful of well-worn travelers on the road traveling to the city from the east, and Kratos could not tell if they were refugees or actual travelers. As usual, everyone stared at him as they passed, and he ignored them.
Eventually, they came upon the wide stone bridge that crossed the mighty White River, which gave Whiterun its name. The waterfalls nearby thundered with the constant deluge of water and beneath the bridge the water rushed by loudly.
A contingent of guards were stationed at the gate, their camp resting on the western bank and flying the banners of Whiterun. Kratos could see some of them patrolling the bridge back and forth on foot, with a few more stationed on each side of the bridge.
A group of twelve mounted guards idled to the side of the road right before the bridge, their horses packed for long travel. They appeared to be separate from the bridge guards, and Kratos had a suspicion that they were waiting for him specifically. When they drew closer, one of the guards pulled his horse forward to block their path, forcing Kratos and company to stop.
"Greetings, honored Thane," said the guard, lowering his head with a fist over his left breast. "The jarl sent us ahead to accompany you to Bleak Falls Barrow. The matter of the Dragonstone is of the utmost importance, and we are tasked with assisting you as best as we can. I was told that you had other business to attend to besides retrieving the Dragonstone, so once it is found, we will take it back to the jarl with all haste so that you may continue your journey."
The other guards stared at Kratos with barely restrained awe as the leader of their company spoke, seeing him up close for the first time. They had all heard of his battle with the dragon and knew that he was a dovahkiin, and to finally glimpse him in the flesh they could not help but be impressed. Intimidated, even.
Kratos looked at the guard and let out a long sigh that sounded like a deep growl from his throat. The silence that ensued made the guard squirm uncomfortably in his saddle. Kratos' warhorse snorted loudly and pawed at the ground as if to say they should get on with it already.
"Do not fall behind," Kratos said at last before he spurred his mount into a trot and made for the bridge.
If one more unexpected person tried to join their group, he thought he might actually rip that person in half.
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AN: It took me a while to decide on the amount of coins, since it meant having to research about Tamrielic economy and then making up my own version of it that I think makes the most sense. If you disagree or have suggestions, do let me know. I admit that while I did spend some time on this, I did not go into a full deep dive since I'm feeling inspired to write lately and the words flow easily these days. I'm making up for the lack of updates the past few months.
I know it's a bit slow in parts so I've tried to speed some things along. I have trouble discerning which scenes to expound upon and which to summarize so I usually end up just making every scene detailed since in my mind they're all interesting and important heh. I still expect this story to top over a million words at some point, but we'll take it one chapter at a time. Prepare for some action ahead!
EDIT 9.27.2023 - Thank you to asia943 for pointing out an oversight with regards to Kratos' clothing, which I have fixed here. As well as a couple of typos. Cheers!