Whiterun was as lustrous and green as ever. Cura was really beginning to love this hold. The fresh air that surrounded her lifted her spirits and made her feel like an ordinary Breton again.
The skies were clear, and not a Dragon was in sight.
All was well, as it would seem.
She and Lydia could see the City of Whiterun in the distance over the rolling hills when suddenly, a few people wearing Iron Armour approached her and Lydia. An Orc with a steel waraxe amd an Iron Shield, a Breton with an iron sword and hide helmet, and a female Nord with an Imperial Bow and steel arrow pointed at Cura.
Lydia quickly stepped ahead of her Charge. "Who goes there?" She demanded as she unsheathed her sword and shield. Cura followed suit, taking her mace upon herself and her Banded Iron Shield gripped tightly.
"We're here to teach you a lesson." The Orc warrior said, as he hit his waraxe on his shield.
"For what?" Cura asked, genuinely confused. She mentally replayed the events of the last few days over in her head, and she could not recall any instance of crime or buggery. Why would anyone send people to kill her?
"For picking the wrong side." The male Breton spat.
Immediately, the battle began as the Nord loosed an arrow. It flew straight into Cura's shield, which she instinctively raised.
Lydia met the Orc head-on, absorbing his mighty blows with her shield, staggering backwards. "Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" She taunted the green assailant before uppercutting him with her sword with a wide spin to the right.
Cura ran forward, and opened her mouth. "FUS!" She shouted, staggering the Nord archer before she could knock another arrow, and sending the Breton off-kilter. Immediately, she closed in, breaking the Breton's ribs with a violent smash with her Steel Mace. Before he could rebound with a desperate attack, she clubbed him in the right temple, shattering his skull.
"Hrrrk!" He whimpered as he began to slip out of consciousness.
The world slowed down around Cura. She felt her blood pump forcefully in her veins and her heart pounded with a rising fury. A thrill was felt from within her spirit. It was exhilarating. She was powerful; alive. It was so easy.
"You Bitch!" The Nord shouted at her as she shot an arrow into the distracted Vigilant's leg.
Cura was still within her clouded mind, and barely felt the arrow tear her flesh and embed itself within her right thigh; it was a mild nuisance, like these Bandits. She simply scoffed and pulled the arrow out of her leg, and cast a healing spell to close the wound. She then turned to the Archer. "Pitiable, really."
"M-magic!" the Nord exclaimed fearfully. "You Milk-Drinker!"
She scrambled to her feet, enraged and insulted. She threw her bow to the grass and rushed Cura with an Iron Sword.
Cura swung her mace in a rising arc, cracking the Nord's neck as it jilted her jaw upwards, snapping her spine and killing her immediately.
Two down.
"Where's that other one?" The entranced Cura asked, seeing nothing but a deep crimson of the world. Some distance away, she saw Lydia still fighting the Orc, who was covered with cuts. Lydia had her fair share as well, but refused to back down. Before Cura could act, Lydia drove her sword through the Orc's mouth, meeting its mark between the fangs and exiting out the back of his skull.
He gargled and gasped like a dying boar as Lydia slowly pulled the sword back out.
The Orc fell to his knees as the rest of his life force began to seep out and cover the grass.
Cura slowly approached the Orc's corpse, and checked the bag he carried. There was a Contract on him.
"Here is the agreed upon amount.
I want you to kill that Stormcloak-sympathizer Cura of the Pale.
She's a Breton with blonde hair and striking green eyes.
Dresses like a Vigilant of Stendarr.
She should be travelling with a Nord female in Steel Armour.
Spare her no mercy, as her people love to say so.
-Olfrid Battle-Born"
"The Battle-Borns..." Cura slowly began to come to. She looked around at the carnage about and gasped in shock.
She and Lydia did this.
A shiver went down the Breton's spine. It was awful, but somehow, it didn't seem to upset her like it had back in Helgen. Perhaps Hadvar was right on how it got easier over time.
Don't lose yourself, Cura... she pleaded with herself.
Her arrival in Whiterun would certainly be shock to those Battle-Borns. She relished in the idea of seeing the look on Olfrid's face upon seeing her again.
She took the money from the corpses, as it was won. In one go, she earned 560 gold.
Perhaps she should have angered more people so she would have made more coin to give Carcette.
Soon enough, Cura entered the city by the front gate and was greeted by a warm environment.
Fralia stood behind her stall, anxiously awaiting any information concerning her son or the mission. When she saw Cura in view, the old woman's face lit up as she smiled expectantly.
"Thorald is free." Cura said with a smile.
"Is he? You've saved him?! I must see him at once!" Fralia pleaded.
"He and Avulstein both decided that it would be too dangerous for them to return to Whiterun now..." Cura explained, regrettably.
"What? After all this, I can't even see him?" Fralia's tone dropped to one of disappointment and wariness. "How... how do I know you're telling me the truth, and not just what I want to hear?"
"Because Thorald told me to give you a message." Cura stated.
"What is it?" Fralia asked.
"Suffer the winter's cold wind..." Cura began, but was quickly cut off.
"'...for it bears aloft next summer's seeds.' That's my boy." Fralia finished the statement, and tears beaded in her eyes as she was overtaken with joy. The elder wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "So it's true, then. For now, it's enough to know that he's alive. I can find peace in that."
She walked around the stall and pulled Cura into a hug. "My dear, you've given me back my son. I don't have enough gold to thank you, but I had Eorlund forge this for Thorald. It was to be a present for his return. I suppose he can't have it now. Why don't you have it? We can always make another for the day when this war ends and Thorald can come home."
She took out a Skyforge Steel Sword with a fire enchantment visible on it and graciously presented it to the Breton.
"Thank you, very much!" Cura graciously accepted the weapon. She examined it, awestruck at the incredible craftsmanship that went into making such a sword.
"I hope your parents are proud of you..." Fralia praised the Breton. "They have a lot of reason to be."
Cura gave a light chuckle. Her parents didn't even know her, and she was sure Keeper Carcette would reprimand her for helping Stormcloak Sympathizers. They were, after all, supposed to be indifferent to Political Matters.
"I hope so..." Cura mused as she put away the sword. "Take care, now." She said this with a nod to Fralia.
"My Thane, trouble." Lydia gestured to the path behind her, where Idolaf and Olfrid Battle-Born approached her.
"The Snowback is still alive!" Idolaf exclaimed.
Cura narrowed her eyes. "How observant of you." She spoke facetiously. "Now, how many stalls are in the Market?"
"Don't clap at me, girl." Olfrid said, sternly with a vainglorious grunt. "Useless thugs can't do anything right."
"You cowards!" Fralia exclaimed. "You hid the truth about my son, and now you've tried to get the poor girl killed?"
"This 'poor girl' slipped an Invisibility Potion to her frumpy Housecarl, who broke into our house. Do you think we're stupid?" Idolaf gestured towards Lydia snobbishly.
"How did..."
"Arcadia didn't believe your sanctimonious 'slay the vampire' story." Idolaf spat. "It took only a Hundred septims, but she told me it was you who had the Invisibility potion."
Cura narrowed her eyes, irritatedly. That traitorous Skeever.
"I should bash your face in after all you've done." Idolaf snarled.
"Try it." Cura beckoned. "If you take one step closer, you're flying across the city." She tilted her head upwards, as if to remind him of who she was and what she was capable of.
Idolaf immediately unsheathed his sword. "Die, Stormcloak-lover!" He completely ignored Cura's warning. "I'll send you stright to Sovngarde! ...Or Oblivion, if you prefer, Vigilant." He spat.
She did not want it to come to this. Cura looked at the Guard, who was standing near the General Goods store and Arcadia's Cauldron. "Guard!" She yelled. The Guard simply watched as Lydia rushed to block Idolaf.
"A fight!" The wood elf at the stall next to Fralia's shouted out.
"No, stop this!" Fralia yelled. "There doesn't need to be any violence! Please!"
"Shut up, you stupid hag!" Olfrid slapped her harshly across the face, causing Fralia to reel backwards to the floor.
Cura's jaw dropped. She felt an intense rage consume her at the witness of such an act, and immediately rushed forward and punched him in the stomach, causing the wind to fly out of his mouth. The older man staggered backwards and fell on his ass from the shock of the impact.
Lydia's sword was knocked from her hand, and before Idolaf could land the killing blow, Cura whirled her face around. "FUS!"
He fell backwards, and Lydia took the opportunity to head for her sword.
The people around watched in awe and terror as the Voice was unleashed before them all.
"The Thu'um! She uses the Thu'um!" Jon Battle-Born exclaimed from next to the store.
Cura rushed towards Idolaf, and swung her shield, bashing him in the face, splitting his frontal lobe and sending him backwards onto the cobblestone road. Upon impact, blood began to pool underneath his head.
Cura was stunned in the moment, but a feeling of intense exhilaration swept through her, prompting a wide grin from the Paladin. Immediately, a loud scream snapped her out of her stupour.
"IDOLAF!" Olfrid scrambled back to his feet, and Jon rushed over to his Brother's aid.
"No, no! Brother!" Jon panicked.
"By Stendarr!" Cura exclaimed in shock as she realized what had just happened. "Don't worry, I-I can heal him!"
She quickly rushed to the downed young man and held her hands over him. "Stendarr's light restore your life."
A light emerged and covered Idolaf, and sealed his wounds. His eyes opened again, and he gasped loudly.
There was the town Guard, peering over, and the rest of the City looked on in Horror as Lydia helped Fralia back up.
"Idolaf, are you all right?" Olfrid asked, as he held his son's hand.
"I..." Idolaf stammered.
"What is it, Brother?" Jon asked.
"I can't feel my body..." Idolaf realized, in horror. "I CAN'T FEEL MY BODY!"
He moved his head, thrashing it about. "I CAN'T FEEL MY BODY!"
He began to wail that singular phrase repeatedly, and the city was horrified.
Jon turned his gaze to Cura. "What have you done?!"
Cura covered her mouth with her right hand. She did not intend for this to happen; she wanted to knock him unconscious, but she hit him far harder than she thought she could.
"You've crippled my son!" Olfrid roared, tears welling up in his eyes. "He's ruined!"
"I warned you not to-" Cura explained.
Olfrid withdrew his sword and quickly sprung up. "I'LL KILL YOU!" He shouted like a vicious boar. "I'LL END YOUR MISERABLE LIFE, YOU WHORE!"
The city Guard finally stepped in. "That's enough of that, Olfrid." He took out his sword and shield, and stood between the attacker and target.
"But- my son! She paralyzed my son!" He shouted.
"I'm going to paralyze you if you don't stop this nonsense." The Guard threatened, finally causing Olfrid to reluctantly step down and sheathe his sword.
Jon continued to look after his brother, who was now weeping on the bloodsoaked gravel.
"This isn't over..." Olfrid snarled. "you thought those Thugs were the end of it? I'll send much greater killers after you, my Dear..." he spat on the floor before her. "...and they will never stop! For the rest of your days you'll be hunted to all the ends of Mundus until they finally gut you!"
Cura felt a chill run up her spine at his threat. She bit her lip, and ultimately spoke back. "Then I guess my bloodsoaked path is just starting."
"No. It ends here." The Guard turned to her. "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defense?" He pointed his sword at her.
"Me?" Cura was insulted. "Where were you when I called for help? I wanted to avoid bloodshed!"
"Picking my ears. What does it matter? You killed that man! Either pay a Bounty of 1000 gold, or I'll haul you to Dragonsreach myself." The Guard sneered beneath his masked helmet.
"He's still alive." Cura stated. "Though... he's in a very bad way..."
"What will it be, Breton?" The Guard nudged his sword forward. "Please, resist. I dare you."
"I'm the Jarl's Thane!" Cura exclaimed. "I would think you would have been quicker to help diffuse the situation.'
"Oh... forgive me, Thane. I didn't realize it was you!" the Guard's tone imminently shifted from one of suspicion to one of caution. "I'll look the other way this time, but know that even the Jarl's influence has its limits." He walked away, back to his post, past the grieving Battle-Borns.
Fralia was mortified at the whole display. "How awful..."
"I didn't want this..." Cura explained, her tone defeated. "I swear on my honour, I didn't mean for this to happen!"
"I know, dear." Fralia nodded. "Those Battle-Borns had it coming. For years, they've been bullying and harassing anyone who's associated with us, save for the Companions. It was bound to happen eventually. I hope Bergritte doesn't take it too hard..."
Cura's distress was worn on her face, when a white-haired girl came out of the Bannered Mare. She noticed the worry on the Breton's face. "It's not easy being a woman in Skyrim, I know. But stay strong, men will come to respect you, and maybe even fear you." But stay strong, men will come to respect you, and maybe even fear you."
"Olfina, dear. Could you have picked a worse time?" Fralia snapped at her.
"Why, Mother? What's happened?" the white-haired girl asked.
"A scuffle with the Battle-Borns, due to our friend helping your brothers." Fralia pointed at Cura.
"Oh! You're-" Olfina pointed at Cura, and then heard Jon off in the distance cursing up a storm. She looked around, and quickly rushed over to the Battle-Born man's side. "Jon! Jon, what's happened?"
"Idolaf is done for..." Jon wept. "He went too far-he picked a fight with the Dragonborn."
Olfina looked back at Cura, and was taken by surprise. "She's the Dragonborn? ...I expected her to be taller, honestly. And more Nord. And a strapping young Man. With big muscles, and a wonderful chest..."
"Olfina, now's not the time!" Jon snapped at her.
"Oh! Of course. I'm sorry." She caught hold of herself.
Lydia hurried over to Cura. "My Thane..." she laid a hand on the distraught Vigilant's shoulder.
"Let's just... let's deliver the message to Jarl Balgruuf." Cura's crestfallen tone hit the Nord hard. She could tell that Cura was beating herself within over the horrible event that occurred. She knew the Battle-Borns through their ruthless reputation, and without a shadow of a doubt, she was sure Olfrid would make good on his threat against her.
The Paladin kept her head down as she walked through the secondary plaza and headed past Jorrvaskr.
The preacher was still bleating into the air. "Trust in me, Whiterun! Trust in Heimskr! For I am the prophet of Talos!"
Cura rolled her eyes. Does he ever give it a rest? How is he not imprisoned by the Thalmor?
"There she is!"
As soon as she heard this exclamation, Cura quickly drew her mace, ready for an attacker in pursuit.
None came, however. It was simply Ria and the Dark Elf, Athis.
"Cura, tell us how you slayed that Dragon at the Watchtower!" Ria asked enthusiastically. "We've heard all about it from Skjor!"
"Is it true that you sucked its soul out straight from its corpse?" Athis asked as he made a tearing motion with his hands.
"Yes." Cura responded warily.
"You must be pretty damned strong." Athis was stunned. "No wonder Kodlak wants to see you."
'Strong.' Cura was always a hard-hitter, but it seemed weird to be labelled as 'strong', especially considering how fragile her heart always was. After what she had just done, she had no other way to explain it. Clearly, she was more than just a Human or a Mer. Curse this mortal frame. She snapped out of her momentary mental self-hatred/ "Wait... Kodlak? I've heard that name before."
"He is the Harbinger of the Companions." Ria explained. "He's wise, strong, and very calculating. I think he'd like you."
"Is he your Leader?" Cura asked.
"Well, not exactly. Our Leadership is a little different than you'd expect." Ria began to explain. "The Circle are the ones who parcel out the jobs. That's Aela, Skjor, and the brothers, Farkas and Vilkas. Kodlak advises them, but he doesn't really give orders."
"I see." Cura mused.
"If you're really strong, you should go and speak to him." Athis explained. "See what he wants with you."
"Many people want things with me these days." Cura crossed her arms. "I'll come and speak with him, but first I have other affairs to deal with, for my own Organization."
"Your own..." Athis noticed the Amulet of Stendarr, at last. "ah. You're one of them fanatics, eh?"
"We aren't fanatics." Cura corrected. "We're diligent guardians... or, at least, we should be."
She continued her walk towards Dragonsreach, and Lydia followed behind. When she made it to the double doors, one of the Whiterun Guards noticed her fallen expression. "Let me guess; someone stole your Sweetroll?" he said in a mocking tone.
Cura looked at him for a brief second, and simply shook her head, and opened the door.
She crippled that man for life. How could she ever justify such a thing? Sure, he attacked her first, but her intent was to simply either disarm him, or incapacitate him; not destroy his life. Before a tear could leave the Breton's eye, she remembered where she was and why she was there.
She shrugged the sadness off and walked up the stairs into the Throne room.
Jarl Balgruuf was eating his breakfast, and a Guard had just spoken to him. She could only assume he told the Jarl about what occurred in the Marketplace.
"Good day, my Jarl." Cura announced as she took a bow forward in greeting.
Jarl Balgruuf was eating a loaf of bread. "Hello, Dragonborn. A nasty bit of business in the Plains District?"
"In the what?" Cura was confused.
"The Plains district is where the Market is." Proventus explained as he stood by the pillar to Cura's right.
"Oh... yes." Cura held one of her hands and ran her thumb across the top, as a means to maintain her calm. "The Battle-Borns attacked me, and I..."
her voice squeaked for a split second, but she held it back firmly. "I accidentally broke his spine...the blonde one in the Imperial Armour."
Lydia nodded. "Cura befriended the Gray-Manes, and they did not like it in the slightest, and even sent Thugs after her."
Cura nodded, and removed the Contract from her bag. "They had this on them." She handed it to Balgruuf. "I swear that's what occurred."
Jarl Balgruuf looked at the Contract, and handed it over to Proventus. "What do you say, Avenicci? Does it seem authentic?"
Proventus analyzed the seal and the handwriting. "It is Olfrid Battle-Born's signature." the Imperial confirmed. "But why would he have it out for Cura? This doesn't make any sense."
A balding man in Whiterun Guard uniform stepped forward, from behind Cura. "Probably because she was snooping in their business."
"Commander Caius." Balgruuf greeted him. "Perhaps you can help us clear up this little mess?"
Cura turned around, stunned.
"Hand me the Imperial Missive." He ordered her, and extended a hand.
Cura fell silent, and gave him the missive Lydia had taken from the Battle-Borns' house. "They were involved in shady dealings with the Empire and Thalmor..." Cura stated. "They were working against the Gray-Manes."
"No surprise there." Hrongar stated as he chewed his venison beside Balgruuf. "Those families always seem to have beef with one another, even over the pettiest of things."
"I can't believe a Vigilant of Stendarr would participate in espionage." The Commander shook his head disapprovingly.
"I didn't." Cura denied. "I helped a family in need, which we do."
"You're not a Priestess of Mara. Don't give me that crap." Commander Caius spat. "I should throw you in the Dragonsreach Dungeon."
"Fine." Cura held up her hands. "If I really deserve it, you may lock me away, if it is truly just..."
Before anyone could make a move, she turned to Caius with a drastic expression in her eyes.
"Or perhaps you should lock up Heimskr first."
"What? Why Heimskr?"
"He's the Talos Preacher, right?" Cura asked. "Apparently justice in this city is sending people to the Thalmor on suspicion of Talos worship. That was what the Battle-Borns told the Empire about Thorald, isn't it? For the suspicion of Talos worship? In a City where there's a giant statue of him beneath Dragonsreach? What would happen if the Thalmor entered Whiterun? You'd all be arrested."
"What's your point in this, Dragonborn?" Balgruuf asked, genuinely.
"My point is, if it were Jarl Balgruuf arrested, I would have done my best to rescue him, as well." Cura explained. "I provide justice and healing, wherever necessary. What happened to Thorald was unjust, and the Battle-Borns did it out of spite against the Gray-Manes. Nothing more. I saved a citizen of Whiterun."
The Court fell silent, but Irileth, of all people, was the first to break the silence. "She is right, M'Lord."
Balgruuf placed a finger under his mouth, in thought. "Indeed. Thorald Gray-Mane is a citizen of Whiterun... and the injustice of it was not lost on me. For a man to be whisked away from his family without any evidence of wrongdoing; that should not be the Empire's way."
"And yet it seems to be." Cura stated, referring to her incarceration at Helgen.
Jarl Balgruuf agreed with her completely. "Dragonborn, I will clear any stain upon your name, and we will consider the matter of House battle-Born closed. Just promise me one thing..."
"Anything, my Jarl!" Cura exclaimed. She was relieved to hear the news.
"Don't make snooping into other peoples' affairs a habit." He commanded. "Next time, you will be punished."
Cura bowed forward. "Consider your warning heeded, my Jarl."
"Good." Balgruuf stood up from the food table and headed to the forum, and sat upon his throne. "Now, did you come here for any other reason? Have you spoken to the Greybeards?"
"Not yet, Sir." Cura confessed. "I actually came to deliver this message from Keeper Carcette."
"'Keeper Carcette?'" Jarl Balgruuf was unfamiliar with the name.
"I think she's the leader of the Vigil of Stendarr." Proventus mused, and turned to Cura. "Am I right?"
Cura nodded. "Yes! She's our honoured Keeper and head of the Vigil here in Skyrim. She has a proposition for Whiterun, if you're interested, of course..." She gently passed the parcel to Jarl Balgruuf. Irileth quickly swiped it and stood back, opening it.
"It's safe." She stated, as she handed it to Balgruuf.
"Irileth, they're the Vigil of Stendarr. Not the Dark Brotherhood." he chastised.
"You can never be too careful." Irileth sneered. "And I've never heard of this Carcette. She could be a sleeper agent of the Stormcloaks."
Cura shook her head. "No; we're apolitical. There are neither Legionnaire nor Stormcloaks in our ranks."
"A safe passage through the hold. It's no issue. And we could always use extra hands when it comes to Dragons." Jarl Balgruuf mused as he went over the letter.
"The Vigilants couldn't fight a Dragon." Proventus scoffed. "Their shoddy equipment couldn't dent a Wispmother." He snarked.
"They want to purchase equipment from Eorlund." Balgruuf continued. "Interesting..."
Cura was silent, and began to think on what he could possibly mean, when suddenly it dawned on her.
Eorlund Gray-Mane.
Thorald Gray-Mane.
Fralia Gray-Mane.
It certainly didn't paint a very nice picture of her as a person. It sounded like she only saved Thorald to secure a deal.
"Your organization seems quite fond of the Gray-Manes..." Balgruuf admitted.
"I'm the only one who has ever met one." Cura stated plainly. "I mentioned Eorlund to Keeper Carcette, because I knew Adrianne Avenicci was already too busy with making Steel for the Legion."
Jarl Balgruuf looked to Proventus, who nodded. "Yes, it's true. The poor girl has been working her fingers to the bone for the Empire."
Lydia was surprised at how shrewd Cura was.
Jarl Balgruuf cleared his throat. "So... I allow Vigilants to pass through my Hold and enter the city, and they help defend us against Atronachs, Vampires, Werewolves, and Dragons."
"Yes." Cura confirmed.
"Very well." Balgruuf decided. He gestured for Proventus to hand him a paper and quill.
Slowly, he began to write on the parchment, and finished with his signature, and then folded the paper in an envelope. He then gestured to Proventus again, who handed him a buckle, which he used to clip the envelope. The buckle depicted the same Horse head pattern seen throughout the hold and on the shields of the Guards. The seal of Whiterun. "Bring this to your Keeper. It is my letter of permission."
Cura accepted it graciously, and lowered her head in respect and gratitude. "Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf."
"Yes, yes." He dismissed her. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a city to run."
"Of course." She slowly backed away, and turned around to leave the Court.
By the time they reached the outdoors, Lydia scoffed. "I thought for sure they'd toss you in the dungeon."
"I thought so, too." Cura admitted. "But I'm grateful that Jarl Balgruuf was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. I will repay his kindness the best I can."
She turned her head to Jorrvaskr, to her left.
"I suppose I should speak to Kodlak." She mused as she walked down the stairs, past Heimskr, and up the stairs to Jorrvaskr. When she entered, she almost bumped into Farkas, who was just exiting. "Hey! Watch it!"
"Oops. My apologies." Cura excused herself as she maneuvered awkwardly around the large man. He snorted and sidled, allowing her to pass.
Ria and Athis were both talking to a nasty Nord woman who seemed to like berating everyone there on the right side, and Aela and Skjor were eating at the table. An old man with white hair and a beard and moustache was speaking to others on the left side of the room.
Cura, recognizing Skjor immediately, approached him. "Hello, Skjor; does Kodlak want to see me?"
"Ah, the Dragonwhelp." Skjor laughed snobbishly. "Yeah, he's downstairs, furthest room at the end of the hall. You can't miss him."
"Thank you." Cura walked past him and Aela, and Lydia followed behind her.
Being in Jorrvaskr made Lydia feel embittered. They rejected her all those years ago, but they want Cura in simply because she's Dragonborn. It was unfair, as the Nord saw it. And quite favouritistic.
Cura walked down the stairs and headed through the door, where an old lady came out. "Oops! Sorry." Cura said, as she almost bumped into her.
This was certainly a busy place.
"Don't worry, dear. I'll just move aside." the old woman said, as she turned to her right and stepped out of Cura's path.
"Thank you." Cura took a few steps in, and was greeted with a door in front of her that led to a bed chamber, and to her right, riding the long red carpet at its end, was another open door, where she could vaguely make out two men speaking while seated.
One was a man with brown hair and gray armour depicting a wolf head on the chest, with black war paint on his face, and the other was an old man with gray hair wearing the same armour set. Skjor also donned this armour, Cura realized. It must be the Companions' armour.
She slowly approached with caution, Lydia behind her.
"But I still hear the call of the blood." the younger man said.
"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome." the older man comforted.
"You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily." he continued to distress.
"Leave that to me." the older man said, just as Cura reached the door.
"Ah, you must be Cura." the old man said. "The Dragonborn, from what I've heard."
"Er... yes. Yes, I am." Cura confirmed.
"Your reputation precedes you." Kodlak stated. "I hear talk you slayed the Dragon that hounded Whiterun's fields days ago."
Cura silently nodded.
"You...?" the younger warrior asked in disbelief. "You look soft. No ferocity in your face whatsoever. I don't believe you could slay a Fox."
"I see a certain strength of spirit." the older man narrowed his eyes as he gazed into Cura's soft emerald irises.
"We're warriors here, Breton. No fancy magics allowed here." the younger man informed.
"Are you... Kodlak?" Cura asked the older man, disregarding that last statement.
"I am. I am Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions." the old man addressed himself, and then pointed to the younger warrior beside him. "And this is Vilkas. One of our Inner Circle, and Companions Historian."
Vilkas gave a single nod.
"I wanted to extend to you an offer to join the Companions." Kodlak expressed.
Cura was stunned, and Lydia looked enraged behind her. She quickly pushed past Cura.
"You're just going to let her in? Just like that?" Lydia snapped.
Cura was shocked.
"Oh. Lydia. I hadn't seen you there." Kodlak remarked.
"She's right, Master. You're not seriously considering accepting her?" Vilkas turned to the older man, confused.
"I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts." he turned from Vilkas, and then Cura, and then to Lydia. "You've shown no promise to us, Lydia. You came in here and boasted of your talents, but were unable to prove yourself to Vilkas."
Lydia grit her teeth. "I helped her slay a Dragon! In Haafingar! Cura, tell him!" She dropped the formalities, and shook her Thane's shoulder.
"Oh! Er-yes, yes she did!" Cura confirmed. "She and I helped the Dragon's Bridge Guards to kill it."
Kodlak leaned back in his seat. "Maybe so, but you still have ways to go."
"What in Oblivion does that mean?" Lydia demanded.
"It means shut your mouth and leave." Vilkas snapped at her. "And quit acting like a Milk-Drinker."
"Fine!" Lydia snapped back, and turned to Cura. "Have fun." She said with near-disdain as she left.
"But... I didn't even accept yet..." Cura's tone dropped.
"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart." Kodlak explained. "Lydia is very high-strung, and quick to anger. Her attitude, as well, needs adjustment."
"I'm not sure if I should join," Cura excused. "I already belong to a group."
"The Vigilants of Stendarr." Kodlak recognized. "Yes, I know. You wear the uniform proudly."
"Was this all you need of me?" Cura asked. "I'm a very busy woman these days "
"Yes, I'm aware." Kodlak said assuredly. "What with the Dragon threat looming overhead."
Cura nodded. "I don't know if I have what it takes to work as one of the Companions, Kodlak." she confessed. "I'm not sure I'd fit in around here."
"Nonsense!" Kodlak exclaimed with a hearty laugh. "I think we could help you refine your fighting technique, and perhaps you could help us, as well."
"Well..." Cura paused for a moment, in thought. "I suppose I could, butI only have one request, if that's all right."
Kodlak nodded. "Of course, Dragonborn."
"Let Lydia in, as well." Cura asked. "It would mean a lot to her."
"She must prove herself to us, first." Vilkas jumped in immediately.
"How so?" Cura mused.
"If she can defeat one of our newbloods in battle." Kodlak affirmed. "And for you, Dragonborn, I want you to test your mettle against Vilkas in the courtyard."
"Heh." Vilkas scoffed proudly. "She won't last eight seconds."
Cura smirked, herself. Was that a challenge? She would certainly oblige.
"We'll see about that." She replied confidently.
Vilkas got up from his chair, and walked past the Breton. "Meet me in the Courtyard." he headed down the hall.
"I have confidence in you, Lass." Kodlak encouraged her.
It was a pleasant feeling, knowing that someone acknowledged her skill. "Thank you." Cura said as she followed Vilkas.
As she exited the immediate area, Kodlak muttered to himself. "Surely she is the one who can break our curse." He looked at the Vigilant as she exited the Hall on the furthest end. The Harbinger had a good feeling about her.
Cura exited Jorrvaskr and reached the courtyard behind Vilkas. Athis, Ria, and Njada were eating at a table when Cura caught their notice.
She followed Vilkas to the paved ground near the sparring dummies, where he withdrew his sword and shield. "Kodlak asked me to take a look at you, so let's see what you're made of."
Cura nodded and took her mace and shield. "I'm not just a pretty face." she snarked.
"Well, you certainly don't have much to lose, Elf." Vilkas sneered, insulting the Breton.
"GET HIM, CURA!" she heard Ria shout from the side.
Cura sidled left and right for a moment, searching for an opening.
Vilkas scoffed. "Are we dancing, or fighting? Come on!" He roared.
Cura's eyes searched him, and she feinted to the right, sidestepping around Vilkas and closed in. She brought her mace down and slammed his shield, throttling his guard, and causing Cura to slip.
Sneak!
Vilkas grinned condescendingly as he spun around and hit Cura's shoulder with the pommel of his sword, causing her to stagger. "Not bad," Vilkas said. "but your swing was predictable. T'was easy to maneuver out of."
Cura held her face stern. She quickly scuttled out of his reach.
He was good. Very good, and very nimble on his feet.
Cura looked at his shield, and noticed a dent where she had pounded it. Did she really do that? Perhaps being the Dragonborn gave her intense strength that she had yet to fully understand.
Cura shrugged it off, and wiped her nose with her right index. "Next one won't be so easy." She stated.
Cura leaped forward, and brought down her mace, which battered the shield once more. "Pretty good arm you have there." Vilkas exclaimed, before blocking another straight-on attack.
Narrowing her eyes, Cura ran forward, and raised her mace. Vilkas was quick to the draw, and went in for a stab. Cura took the opportunity and quickly raised her own shield, and skirted the sword off of it, and clubbed Vilkas in his side with her mace, causing his knees to buckle from the impact.
"Oof!" Vilkas grunted as one knee hit the ground. His armour was dented, as the ridges on the mace's head penetrated it, as intended. Blood slowly leaked out from the steel ridges.
"Not bad at all." Vilkas smiled. "You learn fast, Newblood. You're mightier than you look.""
He sheathed his sword.
"...That's it?" Cura asked.
"Aye. You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you." Vilkas explained as he touched the bloodied armour. "Hmph. I'll have to see Eorlund about this dent."
"Would you like me to heal you?" Cura offered. "I'm quite good at that."
"I can drink a Health Potion." Vilkas said snobbisgly. "But if you really care so much, why don't you take my armour up to Eorlund?" He pointed to the large Phoenix statue above the precipice behind him. "He works the Skyforge up there. Be careful with the armour, aye? It's probably worth more than you are."Slowly, he undid the Cuirass of his armour set and handed it to the insulted Cura.
He's lucky I didn't aim higher. She muttered to herself as she climbed the stone steps to the Skyforge.
As she slowly reached the top, she saw a very impressive forge beneath the stone Phoenix, with a large fire pit that seemed quadruple the size of the average forge. What did they forge in this? Giant's weapons?
She noticed a humbly-dressed old man with white hair clamoring away on a smoldering hot steel greatsword. With every impressive whack of the hammer, sparks flew out; marvelous embers, enacting the glory of battles yet to come.
This must be Eorlund Gray-Mane. Fralia's husband, and the father of Thorald, Avulstein and Olfina.
"Excuse me..." Cura began as she slowly approached.
"Mm?" the old man acknowledged her, but kept at his work.
"Are you Eorlund Gray-Mane?" Cura leaned forward to try and establish eye contact with him.
"Aye." he simply said as he doused the hot metal in the water basin next to the forge. The hiss was loud and uncomfortable.
"Er-Vilkas wants you to fix his armour." Cura explained, and she laid the cuirass on the counter next to the forge and the sharpening wheel.
"Ah. You're a new member, are you?" Eorlund asked.
"I'm just doing what I was asked to do." Cura shrugged her shoulders. She always was.
Eorlund scoffed. "That attitude would get you far, if you were some stuffy merchant or a Jarl's footstool. Around here, you'll want to learn to live your own life. Remember, nobody rules anybody in the Companions."
Wow. Someone should send a memo to Keeper Carcette. Cura thought as she mentally rolled her eyes.
"You're right." Cura agreed. "It's a force of habit, I suppose."
Eorlund finally turned to get a good look at the woman who approached him, and his eyes widened a little for a split second. "Ah... Fralia told me about you. Breton... Amulet of Stendarr, blonde hair, green eyes... You're Cura, ain't you?"
The Breton nodded. "I am. Cura of the Pale."
Eorlund nodded, and began to fuse the sword's blade into the hilt. "You've done a great thing for my family." He began. "Very honourable. If there's anythin' you need, by Ysmir, I can forge it for ya."
"Actually, there is something I would like to ask of you..." Cura cleared her throat.
"Didn't expect it to be that fast." Eorlund said dryly.
"Would you sell some of your wares to the Vigil of Stendarr?" Cura was wholeheartedly expecting him to either refuse the offer, or laugh it off as a joke. It seemed not many people took the Vigil seriously in its intended purpose.
"Sure. If they've got the coin. Why not?" Eorlund put it plainly. It was almost as if she were doing him a favour instead, bringing in more customers.
Still, Cura's heart leapt in her chest, overjoyed. It was working out so well! All she could squeeze out amidst all the excitement was a winded "Thank you!"
Before she could head back down the stairs, Eorlund called out to her. "Wait, before you go... I have a favor to ask"
The Breton quickly spun around on her heel. "Of course. What is it?"
The old man walked to the counter and took a steel shield, which he presented to the Vigilant. "I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is expecting me and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me."
"Certainly, Eorlund." Cura said with a smile. "I'd be happy to lend you a hand."
"That's a good girl. Well done." Eorlund gave her one of his rare smiles. Perhaps she could fit in a round here, after all.
Cura hurried down the stairs, and she spotted Lydia, who was leaning against the wall.
"Oh! Lydia!"
"Do you need help, my Thane?" Lydia offered. "I am sworn to carry your burdens, after all."
Cura felt a little guilty. "No... it's all right. I can carry it."
Lydia nodded. "If you insist." They walked by Njada, who had a nasty gash on her side. She looked at Lydia and muttered "Bitch." as the Housecarl passed.
Cura was confused. "Lydia, what was that about?"
Lydia's stoic expression turned to a jovial one. "They gave me a test." she stated. "I had to defeat that one in combat."
"Oh!" Cura remembered what she had asked Kodlak earlier, on Lydia's behalf.
"Guess who made it into the Companions." Lydia showed off, happily.
"Lydia, congratulations!" Cura embraced her friend, forgetting she was one herself.
"I'm in the lower ranks, because I still have a lot to prove, but I guess they finally recognized the fire in my heart." Lydia shrugged. "I guess I'll be both your Hosecarl, and your Shield-Sister."
Cura chuckled. It was nice to see Lydia happy for a change. The two headed inside Jorrvaskr, and Cura immediately saw Kodlak, who was sitting at the dining table.
"Ah, there you are." Kodlak statd. "Come, join me for lunch." He signaled for Cura to sit beside him, and the Breton made haste. The environment was so much more lively in Jorrvaskr than it was in the Hall of the Vigilant.
Cura took her seat, and Lydia took the one next to her.
"Kodlak, this hall is wonderous!" Cura exclaimed. "One can feel the powerful energy emanating in this room! It's incredible."
"Almost like a small slice of Sovngarde." Lydia remarked, adding to the point.
Cura nodded in agreement, and turned to Kodlak. Since she was a newcomer, she wanted to soak in as much as she could about the organization. "What made you consider joining the Companions, and what does it mean?"
"Like most of our band, I found this family after losing my own. I traveled the length and breadth of this land, learning all I could of the sword and the axe. I was just a boy, but I had the fire of a man in my heart. Eventually, my body caught up to my spirit."
Kodlak spoke poetically.
"You were probably out on many adventures back then." Cura mused, leaning her chin on her hands as she leaned against the table in intrigue.
"Not as exciting as you may have believed." Kodlak continued. "My predecessor, Askar, found me in Hammerfell. I was serving as bodyguard for some weak-necked lord out there. He brought me back here, and I realized... that I was actually coming home. I work to bring honor to this family, and to the family that I lost. For my mother, my father, and my grandfather. For all my Shield-Siblings. Family and honour." he placed a hand over his heart, much as a Soldier in servitude would. "That's what it means to be one of us, girl."
Fascinating.
"And what of you?" Kodlak asked. "What do you expect to find, here in Jorrvaskr?"
"I seek to find my potential as a warrior." Cura admitted. "Especially after a horrible incident that occurred earlier today... I want to have a firmer grasp on my ability to fight."
"Ah, the incident with Idolaf Battle-Born?" Kodlak asked, for affirmation.
Cura nodded somberly. "Yes. How did you know about it?"
"Fralia is Eorlund's wife, and Eorlund smithes for us." He stated. "Word travels. You're in very good standing with the Gray-Manes, it would seem. Fralia has been singing your praises all morning."
The Breton's face went beet red, and she turned her face away. "O-oh...? She has?"
She didn't deserve such praise.
"Indeed. It was one of the reasons why I sought you out, besides the Dragon incident at the Watchtower." Kodlak admitted. "You are brave, and you have a gentle heart. I think you'll make a fine Companion. Even Ria has been clamoring about you for the past couple of days."
Lydia was surprised. "Ria?"
"Yes, the original newest member of our hall." He stated. "She spoke of the Breton who saved her from the grasp of a Giant, swinging about a mighty mace." He gestured towards the cudgel hanging from Cura's right hip.
"Yes, that does sound like Cura." Lydia admitted as she took a bite out of venison.
"I'd love to stay and chat," Cura said regretfully. "but I need to find Aela. Do you know where she went?"
"She's in her chambers with Skjor, most likely." Kodlak said with a hint of laughter. "In their chambers, the smaller hallway to the left of where my chambers are. The door on the left."
"All right." Cura confirmed. "Thank you, Kodlak. I will see you around."
"Of course." Kodlak said, unbothered. "Enjoy the Hall."
Cura headed down the stairs, and entered the living quarters hallway. The same old woman who she'd nearly run into earlier was there, sweeping. "Congratulations on making it into the Companions, dear." the old woman said. "You'll find there are many surprises here." Her tone was laced with mischief, which made Cura feel a little wary.
"Er... thank you?" Cura was unsure on how to respond, but the old woman simply cackled.
"I've been tending to the warriors of Jorrvaskr for as long as I can remember... I see everything, I hear everything, I know everything..." the hag's words trailed off as she swept towards the door, walking past Cura.
What was that about? The Breton wondered.
She followed Kodlak's instructions, and came upon a room, where sure enough, Aela was clinging onto Skjor passionately, and Cura quickly averted her eyes when she was certain the Huntress was biting his lip.
When the pair noticed Cura, Aela quickly jumped off of Skjor and composed herself. He did the same, readjusting his cuirass and clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Ysgramor himself wouldn't have the patience to deal with all the rabble around here." Aela snarled.
"Sorry. I can come back another-" Cura was about to leave, when Aela halted her.
"Don't bother. It's done." the Huntress pursed her lips. "Wait... I remember you. So the old man thinks you've got some heart, I guess."
"Oh... well, um... I brought your shield." Cura said, handing the fierce woman her new shield.
"Ah, good. I've been waiting for this." Aela admitted.
"I heard you were training out in the yard with Vilkas."" Skjor admitted.
"Ah, yes. I heard you gave him quite a thrashing." Aela's devious tone curled the air like a serpent. Clearly, she enjoyed the thought of Vilkas being knocked around.
"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that." Skjor poked a little fun of his own.
Cura felt like the smallest one in the room, and Aela seemed to sense her discomfort, and quickly preyed on it. "Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?"
"I think so, once I've learned more about myself." Cura admitted.
"An introspective one, I see." Aela was taken back. "I guess not all Vigilants of Stendarr are Automatons."
"Certainly not." Cura raised an eyebrow.
"Welcome to the Companions." Skjor stated. "You've already been making waves down here. Keep up the good work."
Wow. What a change from their first encounter.
The Breton tried to keep a stoic visage. "I'll do my best."
"FARKAS!" Aela shouted out. In a few seconds, the large man Cura almost collided with at the entrance door on arrival stood at the doorway.
"Yeah? Did you call me?"
Aela rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Of course we did, icebrain. Show this newblood where the rest of the whelps sleep."
Farkas noticed the Breton standing in front of his face at last, and recognized her from the near collision. "New blood? Oh, hello. I'm Farkas. Come, follow me."
Cura followed Farkas down the hall, and he began to monologue.
"Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they are good people. They challenge us to be our best."
Cura continued to listen, and wait for him to continue.
"...Nice to have a new face around. It gets boring here sometimes. I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life." Farkas spoke honestly.
Soon enough, they reached the living quarters just parallel to the main door. "The quarters are up here. Just pick a bed and fall in it when you're tired. Tilma will keep the place clean. She always has..."
Cura nodded, waiting still for him to finish.
"...All right, so here you are. Looks like the others are eager to meet you. Come to me or Aela if you're looking for work. Once you've made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor and Vilkas might have things for you to do. Good luck. Welcome to the Companions." He ended it there.
Cura responded with a courtly nod. "Thank you."
Before Farkas could walk away, Cura asked him. "So, why did you join the Companions?"
"Vilkas and I have been here since we were little whelps. Our father, Jergen, raised us here. Even Vignar couldn't remember Companions younger than us!" Farkas laughed awkwardly, and Cura simply acknowledged.
Farkas scratched the back of his neck. "My brother Vilkas is a better talker than me. He should be around someplace." It was clear he wasn't much for conversation.
Cura let a small giggle escape. "No, no. That's all right. You don't always have to speak to be heard. I understand."
"Hmm." Farkas stood silent for a second. "Some people don't think I'm smart. Those people get my fist. But you, I like."
The large man lumbered to the exit door. "Thinking I might need to train some more..." He opened it and left.
Cura looked around at the generous living space. It made her feel at home, just like at the Vigil.
The Vigil!
She had to return with the news to Keeper Carcette. The Young Breton clicked her tongue. She knew she'd be expected by tomorrow at the latest.
"Enjoying the life so far?" a familiar voice came from behind. She turned to be greeted by Ria.
"Oh! Hello, Ria!" Cura exclaimed in surprise.
"What do you think?" Ria asked. "It's not bad, huh?"
"It's actually quite nice here." Cura admitted.
"I was the newest Companion, until you came along. I guess that's ok. Just means I can show you the ropes!" Ria laughed.
Lydia entered shortly. "My Thane, you must return to the Vigil. I just remembered."
Cura laughed. "We are synchronized, Lydia."
Njada came in behind Lydia and shot her a death glare. "I'm still trying to figure out why Skjor let you in in the first place!"
"There's no need to be bitter." Lydia spat back. "When you fight a Dragon, you'll understand."
Njada snubbed her and pushed past Cura to reach her drawer. "Useless." she muttered hatefully.
Ria crossed her arms and shook her head. "Don't mind Njada Stone-Arm. She's like this to everyone."
"I can see that." Cura remarked.
"You could beat her into the ground, my Thane." Lydia laughed.
"I'd like to see you try!" Njada dared Cura. "No way I'd lose to some scrawny Breton!" she pounded her fists together.
"I might be able to, but I'm not up to it right now." Cura admitted.
"Milk-Drinker." Njada spat.
The Breton rolled her eyes. "I'm not refusing the challenge." She reiterated. "I'm simply postponing it for another day, because I have errands to run."
"Aye, don't want your skull caved in before ye go and see your wife or whatever." Njada taunted, tyring to push Cura's buttons with mockery in the hopes of getting her to fight.
"Sure." Cura spoke as deadpan as ever. She ignored the Nord and headed towards the exit.
Ria gave Njada a dirty look as Lydia followed Cura outside.
Cua and Lydia headed out through Whiterun, navigating through the back alleys instead of the Marketplace, where they noticed two children, a girl and a boy arguing. The girl seemed to be winning with a threat.
Cura simply rolled her eyes and continued to walk past, and headed out the town gate, to the Stables.
It was going to be an interesting tale for back home.