The Wrath of the Dragonborn

by CaveTroll666

After his death at the hands of the nameless Ishvalan, King Bradley is forced into another world by a being claiming to be God. Given only his wits and his abilities as a homunculus, he must forge his own path in this world of magic, unspeakable horrors, and worst of all, dragons. Will he survive long enough to carve his mark upon Nirn, or shall he fail and fall by the wayside?

2. Chapter 2 - Escape From Helgen

As Bradley leapt into the tower, Ralof closed the door behind them, sighing with relief.

The Stormcloaks had gathered inside the round room at the bottom, tending to those who had been hurt in the initial shock of rocks falling from the sky. Ulfric was there as well, having removed both his binds and the gag.

Bradley couldn't help but feel a tad annoyed when, instead of cutting through the rope around his wrists, Ralof instead turned towards his leader. "Jarl Ulfric," he said, his voice betraying his fear. "What was that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric glared at Ralof, then at the door. "Legends don't burn down villages."

Bradley felt a headache coming on. A simple yes or no would've sufficed, especially since there was enough confusion as it was without their leader waxing poetic about something that wasright there,actively tearing the town apart.

The roar that echoed through the tower certainly didn't help his mood.

Ulfric apparently came to Bradley's conclusion, turning back to his soldiers. "We need to move! Now!"

Ralof nodded, pushing Bradley towards the stairs. "Up through the tower! Let's go!"

Bradley scowled, but did as told, racing up the stairs.

Up ahead, he heard another Stormcloak grumbling, "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way-"

But as Bradley and Ralof reached the next floor, the dragon burst its head through the wall, knocking the pair who had been standing there forward onto the rubble. They did not get a chance to get up, as the dragon pulled back its head.

And this time, Bradley heard it clearly as it roared, "YOL TOR SHUL!" Fire erupted from its mouth, roasting the pair alive before the dragon flew off. They didn't even get to scream in pain.

Thankfully, the fire filling the room did not last long, and despite the lingering heat Bradley felt through the rags on his feet, it was at least tolerable.

He and Ralof ran to the new hole, gazing out at the town. It was absolute pandemonium out there, houses wrecked and burned, chunks torn out of towers and walls, rubble throughout the streets. And weaving between all the wreckage and fire, civilians were fleeing, and the Imperial soldiers were doing their utmost to ward the great, overgrown, winged lizard off. The strangest thing he saw were some hooded soldiers who were flinging actual fire and lighting up at the dragon. Straight from their hands! No transmutation circles in sight, and none of the clapping business Edward Elric was so famous for.

Ralof once again shook him out of his own head. "See the inn on the other side," he asked, pointing downwards at one of the less damaged buildings directly below them. "Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow when-"

Bradley was already gone. He leapt through the hole in the tower, letting himself fall through the now open roof, and narrowly avoiding setting his thin rags on fire as he rushed through it. He found another hole leading to the ground floor, and allowed himself to fall once again.

As he pushed himself back up to his feet, he could hear the soldier with the list outside. "Hamming," he was yelling, "Get over here!"

Bradley considered his options for a minute. They were few, and growing slimmer by the second. He supposed he'd have to hope the man was willing to aid him. After all, he'd shown hesitation to follow his captain's inane orders.

He rushed out the hole in the wall, sidestepping another tongue of fire on his way.

The soldier was indeed there, sword drawn and at the ready, along with an old man taking shelter behind another ruined building. He was facing the street, where the man and boy from the porch were just standing, looking around in fear and confusion.

"Hamming," the soldier barked, "You need to get over here, now!"

Dumbly, and with a push from his father, the boy rushed over to the soldier.

"Attaboy," the soldier said, herding the boy towards the older man. "You're doing great!"

As the boy took shelter, the dragon landed right behind his father, the sudden and violent action causing the ground to shake, and the man to stumble, falling to his knees.

"Torolf!" the soldier yelled, but it was already too late.

"YOL TOR SHUL!"

The hapless man was silently roasted, and the soldier jerked back, the stream of flames mere inches from his face.

"Gods," the soldier groaned, backing away. "Everyone, get back!"

Bradley sighed, jogging over to the trio.

The soldier noticed his movement, giving him a nod. "Still alive, prisoner?"

Bradley narrowed his eye. Of course he was still alive. Why else would he be here?

Without waiting for an answer, the soldier said, "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He then turned towards the old man and the boy, who were now cowering together. "Gunnar," he barked. "Take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

Gunnar nodded. "Gods guide you, Hadvar," he said, with a voice full of nothing but sorrow.

Hadvar nodded again, turning back to the now empty street and running off. Bradley shook his head, following close behind.

Hadvar led him behind yet another building, glancing back at Bradley. "Stay close to the wall!" he ordered.

Before Bradley could offer a response, the dragon landed upon the wall. He and Hadvar pressed themselves against it, now directly underneath the beast's neck and between the great wings now gripping it.

"YOL TOR SHUL!"

Another stream of fire shot out of its gullet, thankfully aimed through the almost leveled building and not down at the pair, and the dragon took to the skies again.

"Quickly," Hadvar yelled, charging into the building as the flames died down. "Follow me!"

Bradley grumbled to himself, but followed the soldier, deftly weaving between the wreckage that had once been the roof.

They were now back on the street, joining the main body of Imperial troops that were left.

The dragon's voice echoed throughout the town as it called out, "Pahlok joorre! Hin kah fen kos bonaar."

Bradley noticed a pair of soldiers, one who had fallen onto his rear and seemed to have a sprained leg or something of the like. "What in the Eight Divines is that thing?" the soldier asked.

"Come on," said his partner, holding out a hand. "Give me your hand. I'm getting you out of here."

Bradley snorted. He'd said it once, and he'd say it again: the moment a soldier donned their uniform, they accepted the fact that they could die in it. Granted, there was no real way to prepare oneself for an attack from a mythical creature, but apparently, that was still an option.

Tullius glanced over his shoulder at Hadvar and Bradley, yelling over the chaos, "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier! We're leaving!"

With but a nod, Hadvar turned to the left, rushing out of the crowd. "It's you and me, prisoner! Stay close!"

Bradley sighed, following him through an arch in another wall, one that had thankfully been left untouched.

As they ran up to a much larger, oddly intact building, Ralof ran towards it, inadvertently crossing their path.

Hadvar scowled as he, Bradley, and Ralof came to a halt before the keep.

"Ralof," Hadvar spat. "You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

Ralof gave Hadvar a smug smirk in response. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

Hadvar glanced back at Bradley, his face scrunched up in indecision. With a shake of his head, he growled, "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngard!"

With that the pair split, each heading towards a different door.

"You," Ralof called to Bradley as he passed by, rushing towards the door on the right. "Come on, into the keep!"

Hadvar stopped before the door on the left, waving to Bradley. "With me, prisoner! Let's go!"

Bradley took a moment to consider his options. On the one hand, Ralof hadn't tried to kill him at any point, though he had ordered Bradley to jump forward, leaving him to his own devices. On the other, Hadvar had shown hesitation while following the insane order to just execute him, and seemed to have close ties to the Imperial Military governor. Not only that, but the Empire controlled a much vaster territory than the Stormcloaks, a name that still made him uncertain of whether to laugh or pity them.

He only took a second to decide, rushing over to Hadvar's door, ducking inside as soon as it was open. True, this was a gamble, but he had a good measure of the pair by now, and he somehow preferred his chances with Hadvar thus far.

Hadvar followed him in, closing the door with a sigh. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it," he said, sheathing his sword and strolling further inside. "Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the end times?"

Bradley shrugged. "You would probably know more than I do," he admitted, taking a moment to look around.

They were in some kind of small barracks, one side of the room lined with beds and chests, the other with food, supplies, and even a table. He spotted a pair of swords resting on a rack near the room's rear and smiled. They weren't his spadroons, but they would work nicely in a pinch.

Hadvar sighed, drawing a dagger. "We should keep moving. Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off."

Finally, Bradley thought, but he wasn't going to take any chances by voicing it. He approached the soldier, holding out his bound hands.

Hadvar nodded, gripping one of Bradley's wrists and slicing off the rope with a single cut. "There you go," he said, sheathing the knife.

Bradley rubbed his wrists, sighing with relief. "Many thanks, Hadvar," he said, defaulting to the tried and true nice grandpa act he'd mastered back in Amestris. "I don't know how I would've survived without you."

Hadvar chuckled, waving a hand. "Seems to me you were doing just fine, uh... Bradley, right?"

Bradley forced a smile. Thank Father he'd gotten used to making them seem natural. "That is certainly my name!"

The soldier nodded, motioning around the room. "Well, take a look around. There should be plenty of gear to choose from." He glanced down at his now hairless arms, muttering, "I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns."

Bradley nodded, immediately setting to looting the chests.

He found a helmet, which he left behind, yet another sword, and a full suit of leather, Imperial armor. He wasn't exactly a fan of the design, but anything was an improvement over the rags he now wore.

Once he had changed and strapped a pair of swords to his hip, Hadvar; who'd apparently had no luck finding any salves; nodded to him. "Armor seems to fit alright. Give those swords a few swings too."

Bradley let out a friendly laugh, shaking his head. "Son, this may shock you, but this isn't my first time with a blade or two."

Hadvar snorted. "After the dragon, I'm game to believe anything. Now, let's keep moving." He walked up to a portcullis at the back of the room, pulling the hanging chain right beside it. "That thing is still out there."

Bradley nodded again, waiting for the portcullis to withdraw. It was probably a security measure, of course, but the time it took to open did irk him somewhat, considering the situation.

Finally, they strolled through the open doorway, turning with the hall to the right. As they approached another portcullis, they heard a male voice up ahead yell, "We need to keep moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!"

Bradley glanced through the portcullis bars at the floor within. Judging from the shadows, there was a pair of what seemed to be Stormcloaks off to the right.

Another voice, female this time, panted and answered the man, "Just give me a minute. I'm out of breath!"

He frowned. Ralof should be there as well, right? What had happened to him? Not that Bradley was concerned for the man's wellbeing, but it was certainly confusing.

Hadvar paused before the portcullis, putting a finger to his lips. "You hear that?" he whispered, grabbing the chain beside it. "Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them."

Bradley grimaced in doubt, but nodded, taking up position on the other side of the opening. He gripped the hilt of one of his swords, giving Hadvar a quick nod.

Hadvar nodded back, yanking the chain. Bradley saw the two Stormcloaks readying their weapons and getting into position as the portcullis came down.

The homunculus narrowed his eyes, drawing his own blade, though he noticed that Hadvar had not. Rather than question the Imperial, he decided to follow him into the round chamber.

"Hold on, now," Hadvar said, holding his arms open in a silent plea for peace. "We only want to-"

His answer was a scream of rage, as one of the Stormcloaks charged, holding aloft a giant hammer.

Bradley grit his teeth, charging forward himself. He'd only had milliseconds to plan out an attack. Thankfully, the attempted train assassination had given him more than enough experience to deal with two scared, exhausted rebels.

Before the hammer could come down, he drove his sword through the fur and chain shirt of the soldier gunning for Hadvar, grabbing the handle of the hammer with his free hand and directing it into the stone floor. As the soldier gagged on his own blood, he kicked him into his companion, freeing his own blade in the process.

Both fell to the ground, one quickly losing his lifeblood, the other grunting as she shoved him off, reaching for her dropped axe.

Just as her hand gripped its handle, Bradley leapt on her, both swords drawn. One went into the arm reaching for the axe, the other straight into her neck.

Her dying gasps did not last long, even as he drew his swords from her flesh, flicking the blood off the blades and returning them to their sheaths with a satisfied smile. "I suppose that'll teach us to reason with rebels," he remarked calmly, turning towards Hadvar.

The soldier was staring openly at Bradley, his own blade half drawn.

Bradley cocked his head. "Are you alright, soldier?"

Hadvar slowly nodded, sheathing his sword. "I... Wasn't expecting a display like that, is all," he answered, a small, uncertain smile gracing his features. He cleared his throat, approaching the barred door to the left. "Uh, let me see if I can get this open," he muttered, pulling out a keyring.

Bradley nodded, looking around the room for more threats.

There was nothing of the sort in here, but he did find an extra corpse. Another Stormcloak, who had apparently succumbed to his own burn wounds before they had arrived.

And no Ralof.

Bradley felt his eye narrow. If Ralof didn't die here in Helgen, he could be trouble further down the road. And the uncertainty was doing Bradley no favors.

"Got it," Hadvar called, opening the door and stepping into the hallway beyond. "Let's go."

Bradley nodded, strolling over.

It was down some stairs and into a wider hallway, where stood two Stormcloaks, ready for them.

Bradley drew his blades, but before he could charge, the entire keep shook with another of the dragon's roars, and he saw pieces of the roof shake loose.

No doubt believing Bradley had missed this, Hadvar grabbed his shoulder with a scream of, "Look out!"

Bradley made no move, smirking a little as rock fell on the Stormcloaks, blocking off the hall, but leaving the door to the left untouched.

Hadvar sighed, releasing him and shaking his head. "Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy," he grumbled, heading for the door.

"Apparently not," Bradley agreed, pointedly not sheathing his blades as they entered a long storeroom/kitchen.

"What are you doing," asked the voice of an unseen figure, drawing them both to a halt. "We need to get out of Helgen, now!"

Another voice scoffed. "These Imperials have potions in here, we're going to need them."

Bradley and Hadvar exchanged a glance, nodding to one another as the latter drew his blade.

While the Stormcloaks noticed them in time to draw their weapons, they were too late. Bradley drove the points of his blades into the shoulders one one, driving him to the ground just long enough to slit his throat. Hadvar, on the other hand, had stabbed into the second rebel's stomach, then twisted, tearing his sword back out and slashing across the throat himself.

Once both had hit the ground, Hadvar nodded to Bradley again. "An old storeroom. See if you can find some potions. Might come in handy."

"Right," Bradley muttered, looking around with a frown. Best not to mention the fact he had no idea what potions did, or even looked like. In fact, it seemed best to grab something to chow on, and just look for something he didn't recognize. He found some bread, cheese, and an apple on a table, not bothering with manners as he shoved them down his throat. He had no idea when he would see food again, and God knew he could use the nutrients.

Once that was done, he wiped his hands on a random cloth he'd found, now searching for whatever these potions might be.

Hadvar, of course, waited patiently by the door on the far side of the room, nursing his own apple as he watched it for movement.

Eventually, Bradley opened up a barrel, frowning at the contents. Inside were a few bottles, some blue, some green, some red. He pulled out one of the red bottles, inspecting the label tied to its neck. Minor Health Potion. Well, wasn't that convenient? Upon further inspection, he found that the green ones were for Stamina, and the blue potions were for something called Magicka. He decided it was best to simply pocket them all.

With that out of the way, he finally approached Hadvar.

"Done then?" the soldier said with a nod, opening the door. "This way."

They emerged back into the hallway, on the other side of the cave in, and headed towards another flight of stairs.

"The torture room," Hadvar muttered, taking the stairs. "Gods, I wish we didn't need these."

"Torture is a substandard method of procuring intelligence," Bradley replied with a nod.

"That's what I always thought," Hadvar said, letting out a bitter chuckle. "Come on, sounds like trouble."

Indeed, there was yet another pair of Stormcloaks down in a chamber with three cages, doing battle with an old, hooded man and a much younger one, bearing a bald patch in his long hair and wielding a mace. While the hooded man held a dagger, his main method of attack seemed to be shooting lightning from his fingertips, keeping one of the Stormcloaks at bay while his friend dueled with the other.

As the lightning died down, the Stormcloak roared, raising a greatsword over his head and screaming as he charged, only to be met by one of Bradley's knees driving straight into his gut. As the rebel groaned in pain, Bradley drew out a sword, stabbing into the poor man's back. He glanced to his left, and saw Hadvar wrapping his arm around the other Stormcloak's neck, driving his own blade down into the man's chest and stomach.

Both Stormcloaks fell, dead, and the Imperials and Bradley all sheathed their weapons.

"You boys happened along just in time," the old man said, giving them both a nod. "These boys seemed a bit upset at how I've been treating their comrades."

Hadvar turned towards him with a glare. "Don't you even know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!"

The torturer scoffed, shaking his head. "A dragon. Please, don't make up nonsense." He then frowned, strolling to a hall at the far end of the room. "Although, come to think of it, I did hear some strange noises coming from over there."

Hadvar sighed, motioning to the old man. "Come with us. We need to get out of here."

It was now the old man's turn to glare at Hadvar. "You have no authority over me, boy," he chided, crossing his arms.

Hadvar's gaze hardened once more. "Didn't you hear me? I said the keep is under attack!"

"I can confirm his story," Bradley piped up, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "A black dragon rudely interrupted the execution happening up top."

The torturer huffed, strolling into a barred stall near the staircase. "The stories young folk come up with," he grumbled, shaking his head.

His assistant, or so Bradley assumed, shook his head. "Forget the old man. I'll come with you."

Hadvar gave the man a nod, then noticed the robed corpse in one of the cages. "Wait a second," he said, walking over to it. "I think there's something in this cage."

Once again, the torturer scoffed, waving a hand. "Don't worry about that. Lost that key ages ago." He smiled, glancing over to the cage with a reminiscent look. "Poor fellow screamed for weeks."

Hadvar turned to Bradley, holding up a few hooked pieces of steel. "See if you can get it open with some picks," he said, handing them over. "We'll need everything we can get."

As Bradley hesitantly accepted them, the torturer rolled his eyes. "Sure, take all my things. Please."

Bradley frowned at the picks. Sure, he was a civilian, while Hadvar was a soldier, but he was a homunculus. A superior being. Who was this human to order him around?

A member of the race that killed you, he silently reminded himself. And a member of the more powerful faction in this region. Your ego can survive a little manual labor.

So, with a sigh, he kneeled before the cage and got to work. The lock was simple, very simple, and came loose on the first try. He pried the rusty door open, reaching into the dead captive's pockets.

To his surprise, he found four books, each with a strange symbol on them. Three of them bore a flame, while the fourth had a bird with outstretched wings.

"Ah, some spell tomes," Hadvar said with a smile. "Most Nords don't touch the stuff, but they're quite useful in a pinch. Go ahead, read them. But then we really have to go."

Bradley nodded, slowly opening the bird book first. It turned into a golden light, snaking up his arms and into his eyes. And to his amazement, knowledge seeped into his mind. Knowledge of how the body mended, and how to expedite the process tremendously.

He blinked twice, slowly looking down at his hand. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but when he concentrated, that golden light reappeared, and he felt... rejuvenated.

Oh, how he could have used this sooner.

A wry smirk crossed his features as he delved into the other three books. Soon, he had learned fire spell, a spell to freeze the blood of his enemies, and that lightning spell he'd been seeing so often today.

Bradley slowly got to his feet, giving Hadvar a nod. "I'm ready."

"Good, let's get out of here," Hadvar answered, turning and running down the hall.

The torturer waved lazily as the other two followed, calling out, "There's no way out that way, you know."

They passed a row of small cells, and a few hanging cages bearing their own corpses, some so old the flesh had rotted away long ago. Up ahead, the wall had been blown out, leading into a tunnel.

"I'm glad to be out of that place," Hadvar grunted, nodding to the tunnel. "I hope this leads somewhere."

As they traversed through the tunnel, they came to a halt as someone up ahead yelled, "Where in Oblivion are we supposed to go? Where's the way out?"

"Just give me a second," said another voice. "Let me think!"

Bradley glanced at the Imperials, motioning for them to stay still as he crept forward. He peeked around the corner, taking in the scene.

There were about ten Stormcloaks in what seemed to be a natural cave, with some stairs and bridges over a tiny stream built into it. And past them was another hall that ended in a wall of wooden planks.

Bradley peeled back, showing the Imperials the numbers they were working with. They nodded, drawing their weapons and starting forward. Bradley went to draw his own blade, but paused, looking down at his hands. He knew magic now. And if this wasn't the perfect place to test it out, than what would be?

He smiled, conjuring a flame in one hand and a cold pocket of air in the other. This was going to be fun.

He darted forward, past the Imperials even as they entered the chamber. The Stormcloaks noticed their entry at this point, and ran towards them, drawing their weapons. Bradley smirked, raising a hand. A pillar of flames, nowhere near as wide and hot as the one that issued from the dragon's mouth, shot out at the closest of the rebels, scorching his face and setting the fur atop his chain mail on fire. The man dropped his axe, screaming in pain as he fell to his knees, clawing fruitlessly at the burns he'd suddenly acquired.

So, painful, but not quite lethal yet. That was fine. This was a test of his newfound power, after all.

Bradley kicked the man aside and off the bridge, noticing that not only were Hadvar and the other Imperial taking the right flank, but none of the others seemed taken aback by the show. In fact, he noted that they seemed rather... enraged at the sight of it.

Still, they were but men. Dogs of their rebellious leader. And he would deal with them as such.

He sidestepped an overhead chop from the next soldier, letting the flames in his fist die down as he raised his other hand. Cold, white air shot out at this soldier, coating him in frost. But while he shivered, he did not stop his next attack, though Bradley noted that nowhere near as much power was put into it.

Bradley leapt back a short distance, raising the first hand. Lightning shot out from his fingertips, bringing the Stormcloak to his knees, but once again, not proving fatal.

He let them stop, stepping forward and grasping the man's head. With a twist and a satisfying crunch of bone, he, too, lay dead before him. A quick glance to the side told him that Hadvar and the assistant had dealt with another, and were facing down a few more. That, and the pair nearest to the back had noticed his actions, and were aiming their bows at him with lethal intent.

Oh, what fools these humans be, Bradley mused to himself, finally drawing a blade and slashing across the throat of the next soldier who crossed his path. Four down, no, five, he noted, as Hadvar slew yet another. He leaned to each side as the arrows flew at him, narrowly dodging each one, and taking some satisfaction in the archers' confusion. With but a few blades, he'd distinguished himself on battlefields filled with flying bullets and other such munitions, and these primitives thought they stood a chance?

Not only that, but the pair hadn't noticed the puddle of oil slick beneath their feet.

He smirked, leaping up and over yet another rebel, kicking him in the back and sending him to break his neck on the stones beneath the bridge. He saw the assistant fall dead, but Hadvar quickly avenged his death with a slash across the offending Stormcloak's chest, leaving him standing against one more.

That only left the archers to Bradley. His feet hit the ground and he sped forward, evading another pair of arrows as he summoned the flames again. He came to a halt before the oil slick and, almost lazily, even as the Stormcloaks knocked arrows to their bows, let the fire flow forth.

With a rumble, the oil caught flame, and soon, the archers were cooking alive, sending their arrows flying wildly as they yowled and curled up in pain. This time, the fire sealed their fates, and soon, they screamed no more.

A slash of a sword and Hadvar's tired grunts signaled the end of this skirmish, and Bradley let the magic cease. He had noted that the more he used magic, the less energy he had to summon up for it, though not only did it seem separate from his physical strength, but it also seemed to return quite quickly. He could get used to this.

Crossing his arms behind his back, Bradley turned to Hadvar just as the soldier climbed up the stairs to join him. "Glad to see you alive," he said with a nod. "And our friend?" he added, thinking it best to keep his Ultimate Eye a secret still.

Hadvar shook his head. "He fell," he grunted, giving Bradley a bittersweet smile. "But I got the bastard who did it."

Bradley nodded yet again. "Unfortunate. He seemed quite friendly, considering his position."

"No kidding," Hadvar replied, taking a moment to examine Bradley's handiwork. "You're quite something, yourself."

Bradley let out a good natured chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm just trying to survive, Hadvar. Same as you."

Hadvar laughed, shaking his head as he approached the hall ahead of them. "If this is you surviving, I'd like to see you thriving. On an unrelated note, I think I see a lever up ahead."

The pair approached the wooden wall, and Hadvar pulled the lever on the floor beneath it. With a creak, it fell forward, creating a bridge between them and another chamber of the cave.

"Seems rather convenient that all of this is here," Bradley noted, stepping onto the bridge.

"No kidding," Hadvar agreed. "Still, I'm not one to question providence."

Bradley hmmed, saying no more.

Just as their feet hit stone once again, the dragon outside roared again, and a giant piece of the keep fell onto the bridge, smashing it to pieces.

The pair regained their footing, and glancing back at the bridge.

"Damn it," Hadvar growled. "No going back that way." He turned to Bradley and smiled again. "I guess we're just lucky that didn't come down on top of us."

Bradley was not smiling anymore. He was glaring at the rock that had claimed the bridge, nodding slowly. "Yes. Lucky."

Hadvar cleared his throat. "We'd better push on," he said, turning around and heading further into the cavern. "I'm sure the others will find another way out."

Without a word, Bradley turned and followed the soldier towards a broken metal grate, into which the stream from before led.

They followed the stream for a bit, until it came to an end. A pile of rocks blocked their way, but thankfully, there was a path to their right.

Hadvar hmmed in disappointment. "That doesn't go anywhere," he said, pointing to the rocks. "I guess we should try this... way..." He trailed off, seeing what Bradley was doing.

The homunculus had found an orange bag next to a skeleton on a platform of natural stone, and opened it. Inside were about twenty golden coins. With a smile, Bradley pocketed them, turning towards Hadvar.

The soldier raised an eyebrow, a wry smile on his lips.

Bradley felt a tinge of annoyance at the gesture. "What?" he asked, rather than demand as he wished to. "It's not as if they'll need it anymore. And it's not like I have any coin to my name."

Hadvar chuckled, shaking his head. "It's nothing," he said, waving a hand. "Forget about it."

Bradley hmmed once more, but decided to leave it be. They had bigger things to worry about.

As they followed the tunnel, they reached yet another cavern. This one, unfortunately, was filled with cobwebs, and the biggest spiders Bradley had ever laid eyes on.

Hadvar grimaced, but drew his sword. "Come on," he grumbled. "Let's get this over with."

Bradley nodded, drawing a blade of his own.

As they charged into the chamber, two even larger spiders dropped from holes in the ceiling, and all of the damned things opened up combat by spraying clear poison at the pair.

Now, Bradley didn't care either way for spiders. Certainly, they could be pests, but they were also quite good at insect control.

But on the other hand, Bradley was quite certain they were never meant to grow that large. And anything that went against that rule should be exterminated with extreme prejudice.

Thankfully, they took about as much effort to kill as the Stormcloaks had. Even less, as these didn't wear armor.

As the last spider stopped twitching, Bradley snorted. "What next," he asked, turning towards Hadvar. "Giant snakes?"

Hadvar laughed, shaking his head, though Bradley noticed that his sword hand was shaking. "I hate those damned things," he said, walking towards another tunnel. "Too many eyes, you know?"

I certainly do now, Bradley thought, letting the soldier take the lead.

They entered a much larger cavern, which seemed to curve off to the left. But before they got to that end, Bradley knew they would have to deal with the sleeping bear up ahead.

As they passed a cart that was somehow there, Hadvar noticed the bear for the first time, coming to a halt and crouching. "Hold up," he whispered. "There's a-"

"I see it," Bradley answered, twirling his drawn sword. "I'll handle it."

"You'll handle-" Hadvar hissed, but Bradley was off like a shot.

Before the bear could even get up and process his approach, Bradley had buried his blade in its neck, severing both the spine and the airway.

As he drew the sword out of the beast, Hadvar got to his feet, nervously chuckling. "Not the sneaking type, huh?" he joked.

Bradley smirked, remembering his charge on his own palace in Central. "Not in the slightest," he answered, flicking the blood away and sheathing his blade.

The pair got to the end of the cavern, and Hadvar's eyes lit up as he beheld yet another tunnel, this one leading up to light. "This looks like the way out," he said, laughing with relief. "I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it!"

"The cave had to end somewhere," Bradley pointed out, but he couldn't help but smile as he followed the soldier up towards the sunlight.

Up, towards freedom.