Sundas, 17th of Last Seed 4E201 Early Afternoon

Hadvar

Fresh air hits me in the face; a welcome relief after an hour of stale cave air. But no time to relish it yet. I keep low to the ground, dashing to a nearby rock for cover. Waiting. Listening.

There, the beat of heavy wings. A monstrous roar passes above me, but thankfully I seem to have gone unnoticed. I hope. The dragon flies swiftly to the south, passing over a nearby ridge and out of sight.

I wait another moment before I signal the all-clear behind me. Were anyone watching at the time, they'd probably have been surprised to see the ragtag group of both Imperials and Stormcloaks escaping the cave. To be frank, I know I still was. To see a Stormcloak helping out an Imperial with a broken leg. I could say it was solely the fear of the dragon forcing enemies together, rivalries forgotten in the face of survival, but in reality...

I see Talao in the middle of the group, telling a joke, bringing laughter in what was essentially the aftermath of a warzone. The man's charisma is astounding. He convinced every single soldier we met within Helgen into joining the escape effort. He pulled citizens from rubble with us, and even once physically stopping a soldier trying to stab another in the back. Then berated him so soundly, the man willingly threw away his weapon in remorse. Quite a sight.

The soldiers and townspeople laugh and whoop as they leave the cave, breathing in the midday air. Smiles surround me. But for the sight of smoke in the distance behind us, there is no sign of the hell we went through here, and it is invigorating. Cheerful goodbyes are exchanged, then the groups head out; Imperials to the west, Stormcloaks to the east. Ralof, Talao, and I, however, head north to Riverwood; my hometown, and Ralof's too. The dragon had gratefully passed it by, its bloodlust seemingly satisfied. But it was unlikely anyone had understood exactly what it was, if they had seen it at all. We needed to spread the word, and quickly. We would spend the night in Riverwood, then Talao would set off for Whiterun, the nearest city, and and trading capital of Skyrim, while Ralof and I would warn Riften and Markarth, respectively. The other holds would be passed through by returning soldiers, but for Dawnstar and Winterhold, more easily reached by boat couriers. The holds may be shored up for war, but dragons... That's beyond what anyone could have prepared for in this day and age.

In the meantime, however, the walk to Riverwood is subdued. True, Talao does ask a few questions about the area, and I am glad to point our a few of the sights, such as the infamous Bleak Falls Barrow - nasty place, that, and source of no few nightmares in my youth. Draugr sneaking in during the night, and all that. But for the most part, an icy silence lingers between Ralof and myself. He studiously ignores me, but I can't help wondering what goes through his mid.

We grew up together in Riverwood. Small town that it is, we became swift friends and rivals, bumping heads, but sharing a stolen mug of mead at the end of the night. He was always the impulsive one. Not to say I was smarter, simply more level-headed. Even at a young age, he and his family were utterly devoted in their worship of Talos. When the Empire's war with the Aldmeri Dominion came, we were too young to join the fight. Ralof's father died in the war, and his mother drank herself to an early grave, leaving him in the care of his sister. My father was a Legionnaire, and his before him, but both had died long before that war. So I couldn't relate to the anguish he felt during that time.

Then the terms of the White-Gold Concordat became known. At first, few in Skyrim paid much attention, as much from disbelief as disgust. How could you tell a people who they were allowed to worship? And how would you enforce their thoughts? But when word of Aldmeri Enforcers executing entire families for open worship of Talos started circulating, even Ralof took his faith behind closed doors. Until his cousin was spirited away one night. It wasn't hard to put two and two together then. I never saw a man run so fast as when word of Ulfric's rebellion reached Riverwood.

Knowing all this... Could I truly despise the man for joining the Stormcloaks?

The silence was getting to me, and the quiet swell of the river wasn't helping at all. "Hey, Talao." The Breton seems caught up in the scenery around him, and I have to call him again to catch his attention. Wish I could be so carefree. "What exactly were you doing at Darkwater Crossing when you stumbled in that ambush?"

"Nothing terribly extraordinary." Out of danger, I notice now how soothing the man's voice is; leagues separate from the usual harsh voices I am accustomed to hearing in Skyrim. "My companion and I were merely travelling, searching for excitement."

"You're an adventurer?" Ralof asks, somewhat skeptical. I can't help but agree with him in my mind; the man is much too wiry and... Well, of course, his injury.

"Though I might sometimes wish it, no. I ply my trade as a bard. I hire or follow adventurers around, hoping to capture some new story to tell. Randolph, the man I was travelling with, had told me he was planning something grand, so I followed to see what would occur." Talao's face showed a strange combination of disappointment and glee. "Though I doubt a man idiotic enough to charge a line of Legionnaires would have amounted to more than a pitiable laugh. Ah well, at least some good came of it."

This puzzles me. "For the life of me, I can't see any bright side to your story."

He answers with an incredulous look. "Honestly? You don't see anything fantastical about the sighting of the first dragon since the Second Era? The appearance of a long-extinct race? Something world-changing is afoot, and I intend to be there to witness it!"

"Incredible indeed," Ralof replies offhandedly. "Quite the series of events that lead you to that chopping block with us. Maybe that dragon came just for you, eh?"

...I feel like I'm missing out on something important. I almost miss the slight fall of Talao's smile, as he responds, "I highly doubt that. I'm not nearly important enough for such theatrics. Lucky happenstance to be audience, that's all." Ralof seems to be scrutinizing Talao. Again, I wonder what on Nirn is going on in his head.

For better or worse, the swiftly approaching town of Riverwood interrupts our conversation. Still standing; thank the Eight the dragon passed it by. It was jarring, passing through the gate into the sleepy town. We've only just escaped the jaws of a gods-honest dragon scant hours ago, and yet here life goes on the same as always. As if nothing happened. Which, I suppose, would be true if no one had been looking up recently. That's life, I guess. Though if that dragon is a herald for more, I doubt even Riverwood will remain so lax. Our destination reached, we split; Ralof and I to our families, and Talao to the inn. Supposedly to gather information and supplies before heading to Whiterun.

Hopefully he'll get there before any dragons do.