The city of Whiterun was showered in a strong rainstorm that day, and Cura's allies and herself arrived right in the middle of it. If they were feeling nauseous already from the Fast Travel, they haven't seen anything yet. They would have to do this quickly; time was of the essence.
Every death in these skirmishes is another soul to feed Alduin. It was like Sheogorath's macabre poetry.
Thankfully, Cura had her Apprentice hood over her head, so she could operate without the fear of catching a cold ftom the rainstorm at the most inopportune time. Her mind was preoccupied with the idea of Alduin consuming the souls of the departed.
Then her thoughts turned to her deceased Housecarl, Lydia. Perhaps even some of the Nord Vigilants, and her first companions; Vigilant Hilda. and Vigilant Bruna. If it was true that all warrior Nords go to Sovngarde, then they were right in the line of fire.
Oh, gods. she shuddered as she hurried through. She just hoped they weren't foolish enough to try and engage the World-Eater and instead could find somewhere to hide.
Then it registered even further: Sovngarde really did exist. Alduin was headed there, himself! So all the the grand tales she'd heard growing up about Shor's Hall, the Whaelbone bridge, Tsun - Stendarr's Brother, they were all true.
Did it supplant Aetherius, or did they both exist in Tandem? Or perhaps Sovngarde is a smaller subsect of Aetherius, much in the way Oblivion had different realms within it.
This was a question for the Theologians.
Inigo and Lucien both donned the novice hoods that were part of their Winterhold uniform as they followed Cura through the raging storm.
"You know, I love this city and its smells; but I cannot seem to avoid the dog breath aftertaste." Inigo remarked jokingly to try and decrease the tension a tad,
Vilja, however, had nothing but her shield to cover her head with, and was sure to remark about it as they ran past the marketplace in the Plains District. "You don't think they sell those funny white hats here, do they?"
The group hurried past the small Gildergreen sapling and past Jorrvaskr. Everyone was indoors except for Heimskr, who stood preaching before the Shrine of Talos as if it weren't raining at all.
The group made way up the wet stone steps as they ascended up to the Cloud District.
Cura opened the front doors and entered the grand Hall.
The Jarl sat upon his throne at the forum, and looked surprised by Cura's sudden visit.
"There was a great white light on top of the Throat of the World. Maybe we ought to send men to inspect it." Proventus Avenici suggested before seeing Cura's arrival.
Cura bowed her head. "Hello, Jarl Balgruuf."
"Hello there, friend. What can I do for you?" the Jarl asked from atop his throne.
"Maybe she knows something about what occurred." Proventus gestured towards Cura as she arrived.
"It was me. I fought Alduin." Cura confessed, to everyone's surprise. "If something weird happened on the Throat of the World, it was probably me fighting the Wyrm earlier."
Members of the court shook their heads. The Dragons were one thing, but Alduin? Now, that was just ridiculous. He was a myth among myths. The World-Consuming Wyrm was a figment of songs and tales.
Irileth stepped forward from the Jarl's left side. "You fought Alduin, the World-Eater? Are you serious... But you're here... so that must mean you were victorious."
"Er... not quite." Cura admitted. "I know it's an unusual request, but I will need your help. I need to use the Palace to trap a Dragon."
Jarl Balgruuf fell silent as he processed what he was just told. "I must have misheard you. I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace." If Alduin were true, would she be inferring that it would be a clever idea to trap the World-Eater in his city? The very idea seemed asinine. So much so that even the Palace Guards looked to one another to make sense of it.
"I heard her loud and clear from here." Lucien muttered to Vilja beside him.
Cura nodded without hesitation. She knew it sounded crazy, but it was just crazy enough to work. "Yes, my Jarl. Do you trust me?"
"Of course. You already saved Whiterun from that Dragon. I owe you a great deal. But I don't understand. Why let a dragon into the heart of my city when we've been working so hard to keep them out?" Balgruuf looked around with concern. The plan made no sense, as far as he was concerned. "What you're asking for is insane. Impossible."
"It's the only way I can reach Alduin and put an end to this." Cura stated.
"You... you truly meant it." it all seemed to fall into place as a look of unbridled fear registered on Balgruuf's face. "Alduin? The World-Eater himself? But... how can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?"
Cura shook her head and stepped forward. "I'm Dragonborn. It's my destiny to stop him. Surely you've read the prophecy before."
As it had been ordained the minute the Tongues cast him adrift on the currents of time. The World turns upon the Last Dragonborn.
The Jarl scratched his blond beard as he bared his heart shamefully. He had never had the time to sit down and read in depth of what he was so sure were mere wetnurses' tales before meeting Cura. "I don't know about such things, but I heard the Greybeards summon you. That's good enough for me."
Proventus tilted his head in way to remind the Jarl of something else, and the Nord realized such. "I want to help you, Dragonborn. And I will. But I need your help first."
"Of course, my Jarl. Anything." Cura offered respectfully. Of all the Jarls to need her help, she would never hesitate for Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, for all he had done for her. He was the first to elevate her to nobility, he helped the Vigil, he helped her slip through Elenwen's Party. He neeer had to do any of those things. And now, she was asking him to trap the very thing that he feared his city against for the past two years inside of his own Palace. It felt very exploitive, but what else could she do?
Jarl Balgruuf leaned forward to readjust his seating. "Ulfric and General Tullius are both just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Do you think they will sit idle while a Dragon is slaughtering my men and burning my city?"
Cura gave it thought. They would be at their weakest point; sitting ducks for either faction. "You're right. They'd jump at the opportunity to capture Whiterun while it's been weakened."
Balgruff was glad that she understood his position. "No. I can't risk weakening the city while we are under the threat of enemy attack. I'm sorry."
"I don't want to see this sweet little city reduced to a pile of ash and rubble, either." Cura began to ponder. What if she could somehow... stop the Civil War - at least for the meantime? "Would you help if you didn't have to worry about an enemy attack?"
Balgruuf nodded. "Then I would be glad to help you with your mad Dragon-trapping scheme. But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep. Maybe... hmm... what of the Greybeards? They are respected by all Nords. High Hrothgar is neutral territory. If the Greybeards were willing to host a peace council... then maybe Ulfric and Tullius would have to listen."
A fair point, but would the Greybeards be okay with it? They often preferred to stay away from political squabbles. Ulfric was once their pupil, wasn't he? And General Tullius needs to maintain good public relations, so it would be advantageous for the Imperial General if he were to see the Greybeards with respect.
"I could ask them." Cura grew hopeful. "But I can't make any promises."
"Aye, Dragonborn. Maybe you can stop the Dragons - and this war into the bargain." Jarl Balgruuf proposed.
"Dragonsreach was built to hold a Dragon, wasn't it?" Vilja asked out of turn.
The Jarl nodded. "According to legend. Although I never thought to put the tale to the test. Jarl Olaf One-Eye it was, who later became High King. They say he Shouted it into submission in single combat atop Mount Anthor and brought it back to Whiterun. Numinex was the dragon's name. That's his skull decorating the main hall." he pointed to the higher wall above his throne at the Dragon skull. He turned back to Cura. "My men will be ready when you are, Dragonborn. You have a truce to arrange first, eh?"
Cura nodded. "I shall." She slowly left the forum and walked down the grand steps, them to the doors.
"Wow, Candle, you really know your history." Lucien remarked.
"Thanks to Brother Adalvald." Cura flashed a soft smile as she stepped back out into the thunderstorm. "Ah, you know what? I've had it with this storm."
She looked up to the sky. "LOK VAH KOOR!" with a burst of energy, the storm clouds began to slowly dissipate as the last raindrops fell and hit the ground. As the storm cleared, the sun was revealed and sparkles shone in the sky
Vilja looked annoyed. "You couldn't have done that before my hair got ruined?" she began to try and smooth out the messy strands on top of her head.
The group Fast Travelled to High Hrothgar, and Cura sought out Arngeir. The burdensome affairs were now underway.
Cura walked through the main hall and hung west around the hallway and saw him there, meditating on his knees.
"Dragonborn, what brings you back so soon?" Arngeir asked plaintively as he slowly pulled himself up. He hadn't expected such a fast return, all things considered.
Cura knew no other way to broach the subject. "I need your help to stop the war."
This sudden, weighty demand caused Arngeir to sigh. "You misunderstand our authority. The Greybeards have never involved themselves in political affairs."
Cura explained her case. "To reach Alduin, I'll need to capture a Dragon in Dragonsreach, but Jarl Balgruuf won't help me while the war rages."
After this explanation, Arngeir hesitated. "I see. The dragon will lead you to Alduin, but without the Jarl's help..."
"Both sides respect the Greybeards. They will listen to you, if nobody else." Cura made her last appeal. "I'm sorry."
It took a few moments and Arngeir relented. He seemed to express a hint of amusement at the prospect of taking on this task. "Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you. This is the road we have to walk."
Cura knew that it was breaking their law of seclusion. "I'm sorry, but perhaps the gods deem it necessary. It's for a good purpose, one way or another."
"Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems." Arngeir lamented. "So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them. We will see if they still remember us."
"I hope so." Cura stated. "I know you trained him. I have no doubt Ulfric will respect your summons."
"Deliver the message to the warring parties. If they will listen, I will do what I can to bring them to terms." Arngeir reassured her. He was displeased, but not entirely objective to the notion.
"Don't worry. They'll be here. I won't take no for an answer." Cura assured him with eyes lit aflame. There was no stopping the Dragonborn. She would bring peace to the land, if she had to drag both of them, kicking and screaming up High Hrothgar.
"Your flame reminds us quite of Ulfric, in his youth." Arngeir scoffed.
Cura smiled. If only she could tell them.
Tell them.
She remembered her spat with Delphine earlier, and raised a hand. "Master Arngeir, I have something very pressing to discuss. It left my mind, but now has returned to me."
"What troubles you, child?" Arngeir asked in response to the sudden concern. He could see the eeriness woven onto her face like a spider's web surrounding a doorframe.
Cura sighed and crossed her arms. She knew he wasn't going to like it, but they deserved to know. "The Blades want me to kill Paarthurnax."
Arngeir's eyes immediately opened wide, displaying an expression Cura was not quite expecting to see from the gentle old man. His glare was that of great offense and fury. His tone was laced with firm resignation. "Now you see why I've warned you against them! Bloodthirsty barbarians!"
Cura agreed with him on this but she wanted to hear the Greybeards' take on the matter. "Is it true what they said? Was he Alduin's closest ally?"
Arngeir explained, "Yes. But understand - during the days of Alduin's rule, all dragons were his allies. There was nothing else they could be. If not for Paarthurnax, Alduin could not have been overthrown. It was he that first taught men to use the Thu'um."
"I know." Cura allowed the old man some mental respite with her clarification. She smiled and looked up to the ceiling, presumably where the Dragon rested above. "Don't worry, I would never hurt Paarthurnax. The Blades can complain and hate me all they like, but it won't change anything." Her tone was sharp and firm. Cura wanted to emphasize her stance on the issue. She was on the Greybeards' and Parthurnax's side on this. She could never bring herself to harm the one kind Dragon she's ever met.
And for what, exactly? Justice? If Stendarr told her to do it, then perhaps she would consider it, but Delphine and Esbern? Didn't the Thalmor determine their deaths as justice because of things they did in the past under the Empire? How could they not see the irony in all this?
Arngeir wiped the sweat off his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. "Kynareth has placed the Voice of wisdom within you, Dragonborn. All you need do is learn to listen to it, and your path will be clear."
"There is a time for violence, but it should only service to usher in peace." Cura stated. She could see no purpose in hurting Paarthurnax. If anything, it would only harm the world as a whole going forward.
She could never erase what she'd done in Markarth, true, but she could do better. She was Dragonborn; a born conqueror, yes, but a conqueror does not always have to be malignant. She would try her best to balance the scales in Tamriel. Perhaps Alduin was only the beginning?
However, now was not the time for future-vision. She would deal with what was before her now, in this moment. She would let tomorrow's problems worry for themselves.
"Thank you, Dragonborn." Arngeir expressed his elation towards her understanding. "Kynareth guide you."
Cura bowed and took her leave. She walked down the hallways and opened the entrance doors to join her friends outside.
She was going to speak to Ulfric first. She's had more experience with him, and they do have blood relations; perhaps she could convince him to see reason before General Tullius.
She explained what occurred between herself and Arngeir, and her friends were all shocked that they agreed to do such a thing.
"War negotiations at the home of the Greybeards..." Vilja mused with excitement. "It's like watching History being made! Oh, I'm so excited!"
"It is unprecedented. I'm surprised that I was able to convince him." Cura stated.
"So, my friend. It falls to you to broker a peace negotiation. Do you think you can do it?" Inigo asked.
"If I could stand up to Delphine, I'm sure I could stand up to my father." Cura responded without thought.
Lucien furrowed his brows. "Your father? Wow, are you finally going to reveal to us who he is? For true?"
Cura crossed her arms. "Oh, well. I suppose there's no use in hiding it anymore. Not from my friends. Come with me, and try and keep this to yourselves." She resigned herself to her loud mouth. She could trust Lucien, and Inigo knew already. Vilja was bound to find out one way or another.
Cura Fast Travelled with her group in tow to the Palace of Kings' courtyard in Windhelm. Once the whirling sensation came to a halt, the nauseous feeling settled in. Even though they'd done it so often, it always seemed to feel this way.
Night rested upon the city of Ysgramor, and Cura hoped that Ulfric was awake.
"Behave yourselves." she warned her friends as Lucien held onto a nearby wall for support due to nausea.
Once they were all set, Cura entered the main hall inside the Palace, and saw Jarl Ulfric seated at his throne, speaking to Galmar, his berserker tactician. "Is there any news from High Rock?" the Bear of Markarth asked his general plaintively from atop his exalted platform.
Galmar shook his head sullenly. "Not a peep. Those prissy Bretons can't be made to lift a finger to help their neighbors."
"I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. They've never had many problems with the Empire." Ulfric remarked unenergetically. He seemed as though he was preparing to fall asleep, but was fighting to stay awake. The war and its dolors have taken their toll upon him.
Galmar muttered hatefully and spat on the floor to his right side. "Those milk-drinkers? Might as well be elves. Think they're better than us." The disdain was plain in his voice.
Cura overheard this on the way up to the throne and her face soured with disgust. 'Might as well be elves.' What an asshole. Didn't it possibly occur to this ignorant blowhard that being High Rock, the Bretons were most likely dealing with their own infighting right now, as well?
Historically, they have aided the Nords. How soon they forget the Interregnum; but perhaps that was for the best. Why would he want to admit to his ancestors teaming up with Bretons to defy General Talos himself at Sancre Tor? It wouldn't be beneficial to his ego, nor to the noble image they've built around Talos' worship. Heimskr would short-circuit like a Dwarven Spider without a Soul Gem.
Or the fact that some source cite 'Great and Mighty Talos' to not be a Nord, but a Breton in actuality.
If the Nords didn't hate the College of Winterhold so much, they could read some of the Arcanaeum's history books and learn a few interesting things.
She decided to bite her lip rather than create a new civil war.
Ulfric tried to dismiss the notion. "Regardless, it appears Skyrim must stand alone, again."
"No... no way." Lucien exclaimed in disbelief as they walked in.
Vilja seemed unimpressed as the realization set in. So Cura was related to a Jarl. It wasn't that big of a shock, as far as she was concerned. Being Dragonborn was the bigger deal. If Cura's father were Paarthurnax she would have been more surprised.
Cura walked ahead of the others and bowed her head to Ulfric, who gestured for Galmar to return to the War room. Once he left them, Cura faced Ulfric front and center.
"There's no way." Lucien looked at Vilja as he tried to contain his astonishment. "That can't be possible."
"Hello, father." Cura addressed Ulfric personally.
"Ulfric... Ulfric Stormcloak..." Lucien nearly choked on the revelation as he tapped Inigo on his shoulder. "Cura's dad is Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak?!" he attempted to whisper, but could not contain his astonishment.
Inigo chuckled. "Surprise!"
"Fine, but it's really not that impressive." Vilja placed her hands on her hips and leaned back slightly.
"I suppose it shouldn't be so surprising; I mean, they both Shout... they both have a strong sense of duty and sentiment..." Lucien tried to rationalize the matter. "And she is half-Nord. So, does that mean... oh, now I see why Windhelm has those Altmer lurking around. The stable girl and the storefront owner...Gods... it makes so much sense!"
"It is much crazier than that, my friend." Inigo chuckled. "You will see some day, if you are observant."
"I don't see what's wrong if two people love one another. If one is an elf and the other a man, that's their prerogative." Vilja shrugged.
Ufric tapped the armrest of his throne with his fingers as he sat still in his chair. "I could see your somber expression from here; please forgive Galmar his ill words. There is no excuse for them, but I assure you he will do you no harm." He understood that being a Half-Elf, the words 'might as well be elves' aimed towards the Bretons, who were also hybrids with men, could affect her. "How have you been since last we spoke?"
"I could be better, but I also could be worse." Cura admitted, pushing the trivial matter of the prejudiced Galmar to the side.
"Mm." Ulfric uttered. "Well, it is good to see you again. I take it these are your friends?" he gestured towards Inigo, Lucien and Vilja. "I recognize the Cat, to be sure, but not the other two."
"This is Lucien and this is Vilja." Cura pointed to the squeamish Imperial and the loose Nord, who was now sitting at the table unceremoniously eating a sweetroll. "They've accompanied me in my travels, as well."
Inigo cringed at being called 'the Cat', but he let it go. It was not meant with ill-intent in this case.
"So, what brings you to my Palace on this day? I'm a busy man with a war to work out. You know that for civil matters, you should speak to Jorleif." Ulfric tried to retake his leader mask.
"I have an important message from the Greybeards." Cura said.
Ulfric seemed a tad annoyed to hear this missive, but intrigued just the same. "It's about time they turned their gaze from the heavens, back to our bleeding homeland. What do they want?"
"They want to negotiate a truce until the Dragon menace is dealt with." Cura elaborated.
"I have the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course. And the Dragon attacks are a growing plague." Ulfric considered the matter, then offered his rebuttal. "But the political situation is still delicate. Not all the Jarls are fully committed to supporting me as High King. I can't afford to appear weak. I can't agree to this unless Tullius himself will be there."
Cura scratched her chin. Blast it. She was hoping he would be more cooperative.
Lucien turned to the Jarl. "I'm sorry, sir, but I must know. Is it true that you trained with the Greybeards?"
Ulfric seemed all too happy to give his spiel. "Yes. They chose me when I was just a lad. It was a great honor, of course. I was to become a Greybeard myself. I spent almost ten years at High Hrothgar, learning the Way of the Voice. Then the Great War came... I couldn't stand missing it. I often think about High Hrothgar. It's very... disconnected from the troubles down here. But that's why I couldn't stay, and why I couldn't go back. I suppose the Greybeards care about Skyrim's troubles, in their way, but I needed to do something about it. I'm sure Arngeir would call it one of my failings."
Cura stepped forward and stood directly on the steps to the throne. One of the nearby Guards placed a hand on the hilt to his sword. "Back away from the Jarl."
Ulfric raised a hand. "No, it's all right."
Cura bit her lower lip. "Politics be damned. Alduin has returned!" She raised both hands to emphasize the point. "Why do you think I was born with the Dragonblood? Why would i come to you in such desperation when I've not once asked anything of you before? This is urgent!"
Her friends all nodded in response and the nearby guards, though their faces were obscured, exchanged worried glances through the throne room.
"Alduin? The World-Eater of song and legend?" for the first time, perhaps, Ulfric had fear brewing in his eyes. "If that's true... well, it changes the situation doesn't it? Even Tullius may be forced to talk sense in the face of such a threat."
Ulfric slowly stood up from his chair and approached Cura directly. He loomed over her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave it a pat before speaking to the guards. "Well, we still hold half of Skyrim despite everything the Empire could throw at us. I doubt the Empire has the stomach for much more bloodletting."
Cura looked relieved, but she needed specific confirmation. "So you'll come to the peace council?"
Ulfric chuckled lightheartedly as he took his hand off his daughter's shoulder. "Yes. I'll give Tullius one more chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs."
Cura could tell that he understood the gravity of it all, even if he had to keep up the bravado before the others in the room. "Thank you. I appreciate what you're doing." she let him know.
"Indeed. I will make way for High Hrothgar at once." Ulfric gestured to his guards. "Prepare a Carriage for Ivarstead. We make the Pilgrimage at dawn." He turned to Cura and a look of pride showed itself. "The Seven-thousand steps. I walked that path once, a very long time ago. Perhaps it is time for me to do so again. May the Gods favour our endeavours both."
Cura bowed her head. "Yes. And thank you, again."
"And, Cura, remember the discussion we had all those months ago. Talos guide you." Ulfric blessed her as she took her leave.
Cura nodded reassuringly and stepped outside of the Palace. Ulfric, those months ago, requested that she align herself with the Empire, so the Stormcloak bloodline could cover all bases. She would respect his wishes, though she was never one big for politics.
As the group left, Lucien quickly caught her attention. "You're the daughter of Ulfric Stormcloak! That's insane, Candle! Does this mean I should start calling you Candlehearth, now?" he joked.
Cura shook her head. "You would have found out sooner or later, from travelling with me so often. All I want from you - and from Vilja - is your discretion."
Vilja nodded. "Oh, that won't be a problem. I can keep a secret! Though, I must say, I'm glad you aren't like the Stormcloaks - not your bloodline, I don't mean - the organization."
Cura had no dispute. "If Galmar is a shining example of them, then I agree."
"You know, it's so weird, considering all I've heard about him, Ulfric didn't seem as prejudiced as I'd heard. Sure, he called Inigo a cat, but I don't think it was said with spite - and he didn't wave me out, even though I'm obviously an Imperial... and he did have romantic feelings towards an Elf, so... Perhaps being surrounded by the narrow-minded just causes people to associate you with them." Lucien wondered.
"Remember what the nice old Dragon said - only you can decide what you want to be, friend." Inigo reminded Cura.
The Dragonborn nodded sheepishly. "You're right, Inigo. Absolutely. I could never understand how the Stormcloak army could carry so much hatred in their hearts and call themselves holy warriors, but then I remember that Talos became a god after slaughtering many elves."
"Yes, how do you feel about that? I mean, being Ulfric's daughter makes you a descendant of Ysgramor! ... And we all know how he felt about elves." Lucien posed. "Oh! That's why... at Saarthal... oh, for crying out loud! I feel so stupid. The more I think of it, I really should have seen this coming!"
"You went to Saarthal?" Vilja asked. "Ooh, how fascinating! You really must tell me about it at some point!"
"Of course - we could tell you quite a lot of fascinating things!" Lucien laughed.
After they collected their bearings, Cura Fast Travelled to Solitude. The City was different from how she'd remembered it, with construction taking place over buildings that looked to be in rough shape. She presumed this was due to the Vampire Raid a year ago by the Volkihar Clan. She clicked her tongue in disappointment. If only she'd been there.
Though, there were important matters to attend to now. There was no room for regrets. She passed through the cobblestone streets and headed up the western ramps and up towards Castle Dour.
Inigo, Lucien, and Vilja stayed outside as the guards would only allow one person entry.
Once inside, she immediately saw a flustered General Tullius looming over the map of the region, and Legate Rikke seemed to be pointing at Whiterun, upon closer inspection.
"We need to station troops there. They're vulnerable to Stormcloak attack from the Northern border. The Pale is from where they could strike. The Stormcloaks have set up camp in the mountain range. If they descend, it won't be pretty." Rikke told Tullius plainly.
Cura approached. "General Tullius? Hello." she bowed her head respectfully.
"The Dragonborn!" The older Imperial looked her up and down. "Ah, so you've finally returned. Speak with Legate Rikke. She will determine if you are Legion material."
Cura had to disappoint him this time. "Actually, I'm here for another reason: I have a message from the Greybeards."
Legate Rikke's eyes lit up when she heard this and she glanced over to the General, who looked to her for her reaction.
The General was more perplexed than anything else. "The Greybeards? What do those old hermits want with me?"
"They're convening a peace council at High Hrothgar. The matter is very urgent." Cura elaborated.
"Why? There's nothing to discuss as long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful Emperor." the old General was set in his ways. It made no sense to him, stopping the war when they had Whiterun in their sights from Falkreath and Morthal.
Cura placed her hands on the Provincial Map. "The dragons are a bigger problem than the Stormcloaks right now."
Legate Rikke nodded. "If the Greybeards think so, I believe it would be worth hearing. They are the wisest men in Tamriel."
"You may have a point. It's getting difficult to even move troops around without attracting a dragon attack." Tullius weighed out the situation. "By all accounts the Stormcloaks are suffering just as badly. Even Ulfric might see the sense of a truce under these conditions."
Since Cura had begun her journey, all she'd seen was an ongoing stalemate between the Stormcloaks and the local Empire. No doubt just what the Thalmor intended.
"Ulfric has already agreed to attend." Cura explained. "It would be a huge dishonour to refuse the Greybeards' summons."
"She's right, General." Legate Rikke confirmed. "Attending the council as well could win us more support from the people."
General Tullius knew that the Nords largely respected tradition above all else.
"Has he? I suppose he doesn't want to miss a chance to bluster about the Empire's many crimes. He's probably hoping I'll refuse so he can blame the Empire for being unreasonable. I think I'll have to disappoint him yet again." General Tullius laughed in amusement to Cura.
"I admit, I have a curious question: why won't the Emperor send more reinforcements?" Cura wondered.
"Most of the Legion is tied down on the border with the Aldmeri Dominion. The Emperor can't afford to risk weakening Cyrodiil's defenses. From the Imperial City, our war here is just a sideshow. An interlude before the main event against the Thalmor resumes." General Tullius confessed.
"The Thalmor are really that bad..." Cura shuddered to think of their intentions.
"They're worse." General Tullius stated. "They're snakes in our gardens, hiding under the bushes, waiting to stike while we fight off these badgers. Their intentions are far from noble. I'm sure even you have noticed as much from seeing their Justiciars roaming the hills."
"I'm sure you've heard about Winterhold's conundrum a little while ago?" Cura asked.
General Tullius nodded. "The chaos in the sky, you mean? Everybody has heard of that."
"Ancano, a Thalmor, tried to use the Eye of Magnus to destroy the city, and then the rest of the empire." Cura informed him. "I killed him before he could realize his dark desires. Now, I don't know if he was acting on his own, or if he was told to do this, but that was what happened."
General Tullius began to massage his jaw and he looked to Legate Rikke again. He spoke to Cura. "I see. Thank you for telling me that. We haven't been able to investigate the matter due to obvious reasons."
Cura leaned back slightly to stretch the tenseness out of her back. "I don't want to see those Thalmor win, sir."
"You and me both." General Tullius agreed. "Now, this peace council - it will be held at High Hrothgar, right?"
"Yes, tomorrow in the morning." Cura informed him.
"Legate, we leave now." General Tullius proclaimed. "Send word to the Thalmor Embassy - Elenwen will surely want to be there for this. We can't make the Thalmor feel excluded, now, can we?"
Legate Rikke scoffed with amusement as she took a couple of papers and a quill and inkblot.
"Oh, please send one to Jalr Balgruuf as well. He'll need to know it's on." Cura petitioned.
General Tullius gave the Legate the OK to do so, and she began to scribe.
The idea of inviting Elenwen made Cura feel uneasy. Knowing that Ulfric was going to be there, and Jarl Balgruuf, and the others. Cura was uncertain, even now, how she was going to approach them.
Perhaps it would be best to act with wisdom. For that, she would need the aid of the Gods. Especially for such a fragile endeavour. She could either have things calm down naturally, or she could bring the war right to Whiterun's doorstep.
Cura walked first, and the General reached out to her. "I hope this will be worth it."
"To prevent the souls of men from being consumed, anything would be worth it." Cura responded surely as she headed out.
"Inigo, you never mentioned that you wanted to see the Bard's College!" Vilja seemed surprised.
Cura just exited the castle and stepped in. "Oh, Inigo loves to sing. It doesn't surprise me."
"My friend, how did it go in there?" the Khajiit asked.
"The peace council is on." Cura gave him a thumbs up. "I'm a little nervous, but I think I could do this."
"If anyone could do it, it's you, Candle." Lucien encouraged her.
"Yes, just raise your voice a little and they'll agree to anything!" Vilja laughed vindictively.
Cura could see no amusement in this. She looked to the skies above. "Stendarr, grant me your righteous might and merciful forbearance in this endeavour."
The group braced themselves for another Fast Travel and arrived back at High Hrothgar.