The sun hung low over the City of Solitude, casting long shadows across its cobblestone streets. The once-proud capital of Haafingar Hold bore the scars of centuries of war, madness, and betrayal. The Wolf Queen's legacy haunted its alleys, and the death of High King Torygg still echoed through its grand halls, the scars of a Vampire attack scratched its surface and the recent incursion of the Mythic Dawn left its citizens shaken and terrified, beholding their destroyed Temple and the broken buildings nearby.
Jarl Elisif the Fair, widow of the fallen king, stood atop the Blue Palace balcony, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her city, her home, lay in ruins yet again. But Elisif was no stranger to adversity. She had seen the worst of Skyrim's troubles - the Thalmor's machinations, the Stormcloak rebellion, and the relentless civil war. And now, the recent events had her contemplating life itself, and whether it was even worth it to try and uphold her husband's legacy.
Below her, the people of Solitude toiled. Skilled craftsmen and laborers worked side by side, their hammers ringing against the broken stones. The Bards College, once a haven for music and merriment, now served as a makeshift infirmary. Its halls echoed with the groans of wounded soldiers and the whispered prayers of healers.
The city's skyline had changed. Scaffolding crisscrossed the air like spiderwebs, clinging to the walls of Castle Dour and the Blue Palace. Masons laid new stones, their hands rough and calloused. Carpenters repaired shattered roofs, their saws singing a dirge for lost beauty.
Legate Rikke, second-in-command to General Tullius, surveyed the construction for many days. Her armor bore the scars of countless battles, but her resolve remained unyielding. She had seen the worst of war—the blood-soaked fields, the desperate charges, the fallen comrades. Now, she fought a different battle—to rebuild Solitude, to restore hope.
Down by the Karth River, the harbor bustled with activity. Ships frantically docked, their sails billowing against the backdrop of snow-capped peaks. The East Empire Company oversaw most shipping operations, their warehouses carved into the rock beneath the city. Barrels of supplies were unloaded - grain, timber, and healing potions. They had been called for months prior, but only now arrived.
In the nearby mountains, the Thalmor Embassy remained hidden. Its white spires pierced the sky, a stark contrast to Solitude's rugged beauty. The Thalmor's presence was a reminder of darker times - their interrogations, their secret agendas. Elisif knew she had to tread carefully. The Empire needed allies, but the Thalmor were wolves in sheep's clothing. Wolves waiting for the first sign of a limp in their step to pounce.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting Solitude in a warm glow, Elisif made a silent vow. She would rebuild her city, not just with stone and mortar, but with hope and resilience. The broken stones would rise again, stronger than before. Solitude would endure, its people standing tall against the darkness.
And so, the City of Solitude sang a new song - a hymn of reconstruction, echoing through its streets, carried by the wind across the Sea of Ghosts.
"Solitude... I never thought I'd be here again." Saerlund mused as he took his first steps past the front palisade. "Ever since Ulfric killed Torygg and divided us all... I was never allowed to leave the Rift."
Lucien's lips formed a tight line. "Indeed, it does seem logical. My impression was that Jarl Laila's biggest concern was your safety above all else."
Saerlund expressed his irritation with a snort. "Don't make excuses for her. She had plenty of other options to consider."
"She could have done much worse." Lucien walked beside him over the cobblestone path. "She could have had you beaten and flogged and banished. But she didn't. It seems to me like she was concerned for your wellbeing. I'll be honest, I was surprised that Ulfric took it so well. When you confronted him I was half expecting him to Shout you to death."
"I would happily die for the Empire!" Saerlund exclaimed boldly as they walked up the ramps leading to the barracks and smithy, adjacent to the marketplace.
"Maybe it is not your time yet." Inigo proposed. "Make the best of the time you are given; do not grieve your family by dying for no good reason."
"Dying for the Empire is a good reason." Saerlund stated.
"In battle, yes. Being killed for just having a big mouth, not so much." Inigo passed beneath the arch connecting two structures, with Lucien and a contemplative Saerlund trailing behind. Upon reflection, Inigo's words held truth. To be slain by Ulfric for a mere insult would not be a glorious death; it would be a life wasted. And for what? Pride?
Saerlund felt embarrassed by his assessment and shrunk for a time, electing to remain silent. He was on the right side of history, he knew it, but the way he was going about it was infantile.
General Tullius oversaw a Map of Skyrim and began to note the flags, red and blue, marked across the landscape, charting down the Imperial and Stormcloak bases both. His finger drew a line from Whiterun to Falkreath. "We never should have listened to the Dragonborn. With the Stormcloak occupation there we can't bring any damned troops in by there. If we request any by boat they'll take months to reach us through Dawnstar and Solitude. It could have been so easy to just bring them into the mainland by the old trading road."
Legate Rikke, the loyalist she was, held her Imperial helm to her side. "With all due respect, sir. I don't think the Dragonborn could have foreseen this issue with Daedric attacks."
"Damn it, Legate! She was a Vigilant of Stendarr. It's their job to see these things coming while the rest of us focus on important matters!" Tullius barked back, pounding the table aggressively.
"Once more, sir, with all due respect, the issues they concentrated on seem to have been much more critical than the Civil War," the Nord loyalist responded candidly. "Perhaps we should reserve our judgement on them for now."
General Tullius' nostrils flared. "Solitude's Temple is up in smoke, Legate. The Divines - they've protected this city long before I even arrived. What will become of it now? Their shrines are a smoking pile of ash. And the rest of Haafingar is sure to follow. And we lost good men in the blaze."
Legate Rikke placed a hand over her heart and shut her eyes, honoring the memory of her fallen comrades. Fortunately, the majority of their troops were outside the blast radius, yet numerous were wounded by Mythic Dawn attackers throughout the city. It was a deliberate and chilling strike against them.
"Gods... what am I supposed to do with this?" the General wracked his brain trying to think of a solution. Rumours of wars in the Pale and in Eastmarch had reached his ears even here. Should a horde of Dremora march in over the Dragon Bridge, Solitude was poised for a ruthless takeover.
"If only Skyrim were unified against this threat." Legate Rikke mused. "Then it would have been simple to import resources and soldiers from Cyrodiil over the Jerall Mountains."
"We would need to negotiate with Ulfric, to see if he retains even a shred of common sense," General Tullius said, resting his hand over Windhelm on the map. "Though I doubt it. His pride and lack of foresight prevent him from recognizing a common foe. No, what we ought to have done was execute him at High Hrothgar. That could have solved the problem then and there."
"Would we have, sir? Or would we have simply sparked another uprising in doing so?" Rikke asked the open-ended question. She knew her people better than he did: a sacrifice sparked their uprising to begin with: the sacrifice of Talos to the dark whims of the Thalmor. Ulfric had used that as his rallying cry for years. To slay Ulfric was to spit on Talos, the way the Stormcloak supporters saw it - and it would simply make the Jarl a martyr. A martyr that could spark further tension and hatred for the Empire for decades to come.
They did not have decades to keep quelling rebellion, and the Nords would fight until every last drop of their blood was spilled. She knew they would, as she would do the same for the Empire. It was a rare thing, that a Nord would surrender against his foes. Shor honoured the brave, not the craven.
Sovngarde whispered its sweet promise to the Nord who died for what they believed in, not cowered to what they feared, or given up due to a loss. No; killing Ulfric would only serve to radicalize those who held his ideals - those whose thirst for blood would never be quenched for as long as they could wield a blade. That was the kind of spirit they needed now, more than ever, especially with the Daedra at hand.
This was Skyrim's test - the trial that would weed out the weak from the mighty, that would separate the coward from the hero, the truth from the lies, the honoured from the dishonoured. A trial that quite literally was reshaping the very land, if rumours were to be believed.
As if by chance, or perhaps divine interference, Inigo, Lucien and Saerlund entered the fort in that moment and approached the war table, walking straight up to the General.
General Tullius was not too thrilled about this sudden arrival. "Hmph. Quite bold, I must say, to march straight into Castle Dour. Fortunately for you, our Soldiers are recuperating right now."
"I take it you are not doing remodeling outside, given the big smoke signals." Inigo remarked on the smoking ruins within the city's walls.
"Solitude is a bloody mess!" Lucien exclaimed with terror. "What happened here?"
"Our city was assaulted in a surprise attack by the Mythic Dawn. The Temple of the Divines is destroyed, and many people and soldiers have died in the blast." General Tullius explained. "Dark times are upon us."
Saerlund stood upright and spoke frankly. "General Tullius, we have an important message from the Rift. My name is Saerund, son of Jarl Laila Law-Giver."
"Ah, the outspoken Imperial Loyalist of the family." Legate Rikke appeared to have heard his name before. The tone in her voice was one of surprise, and yet expectation of hope. She turned to the General. "Perhaps Jarl Laila has come to her senses and returned to Imperial support."
General Tullius looked at Inigo and at Lucien. "Who are these two who have accompanied you here, boy?"
Inigo cleared his throat. "You may call me Inigo the Brave - I am a good friend of the Dragonborn... or... was a good friend of the Dragonborn."
As soon as his name came out, a look of recognition came upon the General. "Ah, yes - the Blue Khajiit who was with her at High Hrothgar. I recognize you now. And you - " he pointed at Lucien. "the pair of you were behind her at the negotiation table, with a Nord woman, I believe."
"Vilja, yes." Inigo confirmed.
"Inigo the Brave. You were also with the Dawnguard, were you not? I've heard whispers of your name." General Tullius recalled. "You did us all a service in the war against the Vampires and the Dragons. For that we will always be grateful."
Legate Rikke nodded in agreement, saluting them both, as she'd already pieced together who the blonde Imperial man was, from those same accounts of the Dragonborn's crusade.
"And you, lad, I suppose you're in favour of the Empire?" General Tullius asked Lucien.
Lucien shifted his stance proudly. "Of course, sir! I was born and raised in the Imperial City. My mother served in the Legion during the Great War, for pete's sake!"
"Your mother - who is she?" General Tullius asked for confirmation.
Lucien smiled warmly as he recalled her. "You may know her Captain Lyra Flavius."
"Captain Lyra, indeed, a woman of remarkable valor," the General said with a smile. "Though she was not under my command, her reputation precedes her. It's said she was at the Emperor's side, leading a small contingent through the city to reclaim the White-Gold Tower, if memory serves."
"She stood among the Emperor's loyal few, battling through the city's heart, slicing through Dominion ranks defending the Empire's core. Her commands came not from the Emperor's voice but through Laaneth, his battlemage, yet his mere presence was enough to inspire her." Lucien recounted his mother's heroic deeds with pride. "Trained from childhood, she was an Imperial soldier, sworn to protect the Emperor's people and enact his justice. He was no deity, but his followers' zeal elevated him to such heights. He embodied an ideal—a beacon of order, strength, and righteousness—and for that, she would gladly sacrifice her life again and again. Fear gripped her, yet it was quelled as the Emperor unsheathed his golden sword and charged at Naarifin, with his soldiers' battle cries fueling her resolve. This fiend had torn her from her home, separated her from her betrothed, and killed her comrades. Now, she seized her chance for retribution." Lucien mimed the ensuing clash with a gesture.
"And what more can you tell me about that time?" General Tullius leaned back and scratched his chin.
"The Emperor my mother fought beside was a double - not the real Emperor." Lucien recounted what she'd told him growing up. "He was a decoy because the true Emperor was wounded by an assassin beforehand."
His mother wasn't supposed to tell him that, but he knew regardless from years of prodding. It seemed this knowledge was enough to convince the General, however. Upon hearing the account, the General was willing to listen to them further. "I suppose the Dragonborn - Cura - was an Imperial Supporter as well, then."
Lucien hadn't recalled Cura mentioning her political views before, but Inigo elected to capitalize on the moment. "Oh, yes - Cura always loved the Empire. It would kill her to see it fall apart!"
General Tullius and Legate Rikke took it seriously. It was true to reason that everything Cura had done was to save everybody from the Vampires and the Dragons. Ironic that the very symbol of their Empire caused them so much grief to begin with, but thankfully the gods sent a countermeasure when it counted. "Indeed. If not for her - and you - we would not be alive today, most likely, to debate these current matters."
The room was stern and unease hung in the air, lifted only by a veil of understanding between the present parties. Though, the trust was not fully formed yet.
Inigo the Brave, clad in his gifted Ancient Nord Armor, stood at the center of the dimly lit chamber. The flickering torches cast shadows on the faces of those gathered around the rough-hewn table. Lucien stood to Inigo's right. On his left, Saerlund Law-Giver, son of Jarl Laila, bore the weight of his lineage. At the head of the table, General Tullius and Legate Rikke, stern representatives of the Empire, exchanged wary glances.
Inigo cleared his throat, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Friends, allies, and reluctant foes," he began, "we stand on the precipice of oblivion. Mehrunes Dagon's Daedric hordes march upon Skyrim, their crimson banners blotting out the sun. Our petty squabbles matter little in the face of such malevolence."
Lucien leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with intelligence. "Indeed, my dear Inigo. The Dragonborn, our departed friend, would have scoffed at our bickering. She'd remind us that Skyrim's soil is soaked with the blood of Nords, Imperials, and Stormcloaks alike already. And in spite of the inner conflicts, it's a land worth saving."
Saerlund shifted uncomfortably. His father's legacy weighed heavily upon him. "My father," he hesitated, "he believed in the Empire. He fought to protect it in a skirmish against the Thalmor and lost his life for its unity. How can I stand here and advocate for a truce with the Stormcloaks?" he asked himself as he began to realize what a betrayal his Mother had performed against their Empire by siding with Ulfric over the General.
Inigo's gaze softened. "Saerlund, your father's cause was noble, but the Empire's grip on Skyrim weakens. We need every blade, every shout, every ounce of courage to face Mehrunes Dagon. The Daedric Prince cares not for our politics; he seeks chaos and destruction."
General Tullius leaned back, his gauntleted hands resting on the table. Strangely enough, he was just speaking of such a thing with Rikke before they'd entered. "A truce with the Stormcloaks? Preposterous! Ulfric's rebellion threatens the very fabric of the Empire. We cannot compromise our principles."
Legate Rikke, her eyes as steely as her armor, spoke up. "Yet, General, we've lost good soldiers in this Daedric Attack. Our ranks thin, our cities burn. If we don't unite, we'll fall."
"Daedric Attack? Here in Solitude? Oh..." Lucien recalled the smoking ruins of the temple of the Divines in the city. If the Mythic Dawn could do that, that was very bad indeed.
Not that it was a question; he knew full well what they were capable of. Any Colovian or Nibenese man worth his salt knew what that blasted organization did in the past, in the heart of their Imperial City, no less!
General Tullius was no doubt well aware of it himself.
Inigo raised his hand. "Listen! Skyrim's soil cradles the bones of heroes - Imperial and Stormcloak alike. They fought for freedom, for honour, regardless of their alliance. Brave men and women fought and died for this land, and for the Empire. We owe it to them to put aside our differences. A truce, a fragile alliance, to face the Daedric onslaught."
General Tullius clenched his jaw. "We've seen the signs - the Daedric incursions, the nightmares plaguing our soldiers, the general unease in the air. But a truce with the Stormcloaks? It's madness. The mere suggestion of it could cast us as weak in Stormcloak eyes. Undermine the Imperial presence."
Legate Rikke, pragmatic as ever, spoke. "Madness or not, we face an atrociously enemy. Mehrunes Dagon cares not for our banners. He'll burn Solitude and Windhelm alike."
"In fact, he has already made an attempt! We clashed with him on the fields of Eastmarch; his aim was to obliterate Windhelm, and our intelligence suggests that Riften is his next target," Lucien declared, corroborating the reports from their scouts. "We barely made it out alive and managed to demolish the city bridge. Without the intervention of Talos and the Dragons... it was a close call."
Saerlund spun around and stared at him after saying that. Talos saved them?
"Excuse me?" General Tullius raised his head. "Repeat what you just said."
"We had to destroy Windhelm's bridge -"
"The part about Talos. What do you mean?" Tullius insisted, his face betraying a palpable unease. "Talos... he's merely a man. It can't be possible..."
"I had my doubts as well," Lucien declared, "but he saved our lives! He summoned lightning from the heavens and unleashed it upon the Daedric ranks."
"So that was the sound in the eastern skies some days back..." Legate Rikke whispered to a stunned General Tullius.
"This is ridiculous!" General Tullius exclaimed in disbelief. "The Aedra don't interfere in our world. It just... isn't their way."
"And scouts reported in about the sight of Stendarr over the Pale, south of Dawnstar." Legate Rikke reminded him.
"Wait... St-St-Stendarr?!" Lucien stammered as the name registered. "Over the Pale. By the gods... that's what Serana was talking about!"
"Who?" the General asked.
"A friend of ours, and of Cura's." Lucien explained. "She saw a massive crater where the mountain was, at the Hall of the Vigilant. It's gone now. Perhaps if Stendarr was sighted... maybe he did it!"
"Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds?" General Tullius barked. "Next you'll tell me Mara kissed you on the cheek."
"Well, not quite, but we did encounter her, too! She saved our friend from the clutches of Molag Bal. underneath the Ancient Ruins below Windhelm when we-" Lucien recalled the encounter underneath the city of Windhelm.
"Enough with this nonsense." the General waved the mad ramblings away with his hand.
"Whether you believe it or not does not change the fact that the Daedra are too much for us." Inigo's gaze swept the room. "We must close ranks. The Dragonborn's legacy demands it. We as a land in recent years have faced dragons, vampires, and civil war. Now, a Daedric Prince threatens all we hold dear. I know I am just a silly Khajiit, but I care about this winter wonderland. Why don't you?"
Saerlund adjusted his collar. "I can see we won't be getting anywhere like this. General, we need your help. Things have gotten way out of hand in the east."
Lucien's fingers drummed on the table. "Imagine it. Stormcloaks and Imperials side by side, shouting in unison against the tide of Oblivion. Your ancestors would cheer from Sovngarde."
Saerlund clenched his fists and swallowed some of his bitterness. "My Mother even sees it, at last. There's no Skyrim without the support of the Empire. Let us forge this truce, preserve our land, and honor the fallen."
"Since the Stormcloaks are willing to parlay we should set up a meeting place in the neutral zone. Whiterun, perhaps." Saerlund proposed.
The shadow of Mehrunes Dagon loomed over the map, a menace that surpassed political disputes and personal pride. General Tullius, after considering all options, released a weary sigh, his face marked by fatigue. "So be it. For the sake of Skyrim."
Legate Rikke nodded. She was willing to extend an olive branch if it meant saving her homeland. "For Skyrim."
"The Thalmor will no doubt be made aware of it, as well. It would be best if I told Elenwen directly. Perhaps even invite them over to our side in this conflict." General Tullius considered the options. "They have as much to lose as we do - and their magic could prove useful against the Daedra."
And so, in that dim chamber, unlikely allies clasped hands—a truce born from necessity, a fragile hope against the Daedric storm. The Dragonborn's memory watched over them, whispering, "Skyrim belongs to the living. Protect it."
And so they would. For the land, for the fallen, and for the brave heart of Inigo, who dared to dream of unity in a fractured world.
General Tullius examined the map and drew a line from Whiterun to Riften. "Tell your mother, Jarl Laila, that the Empire will support Riften in the event of a Daedric invasion. But first, we will host a negotiation in Dragonsreach. The Circle of Jarls. I will bring Jarl Elisif, Jarl Idgrod, Jarl Sidgeir, and Jarl Igmund. Jarl Brina will be made aware eventually, when she returns to her post."
He hadn't said it outright, but his allusions to Jarl Brina's absence from her post conveyed to Inigo and Lucien that he was somewhat aware of what Serana had shared with them in the Pale. The thought of Cura's home being completely destroyed saddened Inigo. Although he hadn't witnessed it himself, he understood that it would devastate her to see her home in ruins.
"And we'll see about getting Jarl Ulfric, my Mother, Jarl Korir, Jarl Dengeir and Jarl Skald on board." Saerlund agreed. He walked around the table and shook hands with the General, forming a pact in the witness of four people.
"Inigo, we're entrusting this to you," General Tullius said, addressing the Khajiit with utmost seriousness. "You were a friend to the Dragonborn. Now, I need you to serve as the arbiter in her place. Keep things organized between the two parties. Keep us focused on what matters now." He was skeptical about forming a truce with Ulfric, yet the Daedra were relying on their division to conquer them more effortlessly.
"Me?"Inigo gestured to himself in surprise. What was it about him that made him so desirable? Sure, he was the Dragonborn's companion, but did that really qualify him to be an arbiter at a war council?
"Yes - you know what the Dragonborn would have wanted. You will be the glue to bind us together. As her representor, you will be the one to hold both parties accountable under Imperial and Nordic law, instead." Legate Rikke explained. "I trust you won't let us down."
Imperial and Nordic Law? The Dragonborn? What did they...
And then it hit Inigo: in the Empire's tradition, the Dragonborn was a powerful leader: the Emperor - and to the Nords, the Dragonborn was a divine entity, sworn to protect man in his hour of need, much like Shor.
It was mind-boggling. Cura could easily have taken advantage of her station and subjugated Skyrim - or turned against the current Empire and ascended the throne. She had ample opportunity to do so; after all, the Stormcloaks wanted freedom and the Emperor's lacking Dynasty was growing unpopular, even if the Empire was still fashionable.
Cura, my friend, you could have taken over! You should have went to the Imperials and to the Imperial City. You are Dragonborn! The throne is yours! This is why the symbol of our Empire is a Dragon - duh! he had to resist smacking himself in the forehead.
"I will do it. When will this meeting take place?" Inigo asked for clarification.
"Two days from now. We need to get the word out." General Tullius informed him.
"Good - we will be ready." Inigo assured him. For the longest time, Inigo believed the Civil War to be a nonsensical waste of time and life - and now he would be stepping right between the two parties. Irony, thy name is Inigo.
When the discussion was over, the trio were dismissed so that General Tullius could begin making preparations for the Council meeting.
Saerlund and Lucien walked beside him, and the son of the Jarl spoke up. "I'm sure it won't be easy, but even Ulfric, pig-headed as he is, can see the greater threat. I'm sure he'll come around."
Lucien responded sheepishly. "Well, I hope so. But we all know it can't be that easy. Let's just brace ourselves for the worst."
Inigo agreed. "A snake and a cat being placed in a barrel, expected to make peace. Do you think they would?" In truth, he was uncertain, especially considering the events that unfolded in Skyrim over the past five years.
Back at Mistveil Keep, Jarl Ulfric and Jarl Laila sat at the central Hall's table, her steward and Housecarl flanking Riften's Jarl on either side. Serana sat on the side opposite to Ulfric, with her back to Wylandriah's station.
"I doubt they were successful," Ulfric mused pessimistically. "Tullius' head is too far up his backside to see the bigger picture."
At that very moment, the trio returned to Mistveil Keep, still dizzied from the Fast Travel. Inigo lumbered over to the big table and placed both hands down upon it, and his face surveyed the crowd. "Friends, gather 'round! We've returned from our mission to deliver news of utmost importance."
Lucien corroberated. "Indeed! General Tullius himself has expressed a willingness to cooperate in our fight against the Daedric threat."
Laila looked to her son, and Saerlund spoke up as well. "Aye, it's true. Despite the animosity between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, Tullius recognizes the gravity of our situation."
Ulfric was surprised to hear it. "Cooperate? With the Empire? You jest, Saerlund! Tullius would sooner drink poison than work alongside us." there was no way that the General would actually change his mind so suddenly. There had to be a plot somewhere. Could he really trust this?
Laila was surprised herself, turning to her old friend with a raised eyebrow. She collected her mannerisms. "Ulfric, let's hear them out. If there's a chance to save Skyrim, we must put aside our skepticism."
Inigo nodded. "The Legion knows about the Daedric attacks everywhere. Solitude was also attacked from within. General Tullius believes that the Daedric incursion threatens all of Tamriel. He's willing to share intelligence, troops, and resources."
Lucien took a seat next to Serana and leaned forward. "And he proposes a joint task force, just like what we want - Imperials, Stormcloaks, and maybe even the Thalmor - to combat the Daedric cults. We need all hands on deck for this, whether we like it or not."
Saerlund crossed his arms. "Tullius isn't naive. He knows we're desperate. He also knows that Daedra care not for borders or banners."
Ulfric clenched the back of the bench tightly. "And what does he want in return? Will he want my head once this is all over?"
Laila was certain that it was a small matter at this point. "No, Ulfric. Tullius seeks our commitment to this alliance. Our word that we'll stand together."
Inigo reminded them firmly about what they were dealing with. "We've seen the Daedric horrors firsthand - their twisted rituals, their dark magic. We cannot afford division."
Lucien added, "Agreed. At any rate, there is going to be a Council held in Whiterun, where Jarls of both sides will decide what happens. We'll need to convince our respective factions. Show them the stakes."
Saerlund turned his gaze to Ulfric, specifically. "Ulfric, I'm looking at you; don't let your pride get in the way. If we fail, Skyrim falls. Our people suffer. Our gods forsake us."
Ulfric sneered. "Very well. But mark my words, boy, if the General tries to undermine us in any way - "
Laila cut him off. "Then it's settled. We fight together - for Skyrim, for Tamriel. When will this Council take place?"
"In two days, at Noon, in Dragonsreach." Inigo explained.
"Then we will - "
"Confound these awful roads!" came the whining voice of Jarl Skald the Elder as he and Jarl Korir entered the Keep. "Laila! Don't agree to anything they propose yet! We're all in this together!" he barked in protest immediately.
Everyone was surprised by their sudden arrival, but Serana gave them a friendly nod. "Ah, look who finally showed up. We've been waiting for you."
Jarl Skald sneered at the vampiress. "Hmph. Not all of us can transform into Bats and fly over these crags. And the northern hillside leading to Shor's Stone is in pieces - not to mention the town itself - how did that happen?"
"The Daedra wasted the town. We did all we could to evacuate the Miners before it happened." Lucien explained frankly. "They're safe in Windhelm, now."
Ulfric nodded. "Yes - it was a surprise to find them on my doorstep with all the other refugees, I must admit."
"Thank you for taking care of them, Ulfric." Laila expressed gratitude to her old friend. While she was unaware of the threat, Ulfric, as well as Inigo and the others, protected citizens of the Rift.
Jarl Korir noticed Inigo and Lucien immediately, and then Serana. "Ah... oh... perhaps we're right on time."
"Indeed." Ulfric stood up from his seat, and with Laila, walked over to greet the two Jarls. "In two days, we are going to have a meeting in Whiterun."
"A meeting in Whiterun? Does this mean that coward Tullius intends to return the Pale to me?" Jarl Skald scratched his bald head.
"Here, let me catch the two of you up on the present matters." Ulfric ushered his allies into Wylandriah's chamber, and winked at Laila, gesturing towards Inigo and Lucien.
The Riften Jarl remembered something in that instant, and she walked over to Inigo. "Well, you've done it; you've managed to successfully negotiate a Council with the Legion." she gently touched Inigo's shoulder, and her eyes were gentle and grateful. "And, for Shor's Stone - you rescued my people. Citizens of the Rift. You went out of your way to save them; you had no obligation to. Thank you."
Inigo smiled. "I do not like to see innocent people killed, ma'am."
Lucien cooed coyly. "Aw, it was no big deal! Saving people is kind of our thing."
"It might not seem significant to you, but to me, as Jarl, it's everything," Laila assured him. "Just like Mjoll, you have become champions of our hold, aiding those in hardship and attending to their needs. As Riften's Jarl, I believe it is my duty to recognize your altruistic actions by bestowing upon you both the title of Thane of Riften."
"Thank you. I am honoured to be a Thane of this wonderful city!" Inigo exclaimed.
Lucien was surprised, but pleasantly so. "Wow, a Thane? Me? That is so cool!"
"I should be the one thanking you. You've solved more problems in the short time you've been here then anyone in my court has their entire careers. You've been a beacon of hope in these dark times for my people and I will never forget it." Jarl Laila addressed the both of them proudly. "Therefore, by my authority as Jarl, I pronounce you Thanes of Riften and award you all of the benefits befitting your station. Congratulations."
A bright and warm feeling filled Inigo up from within. Thane of Riften - the words sounded so sweet to his ears.
"I hope that we can protect this city from those smelly Daedra." Inigo remarked anxiously. "I have always loved Riften. This City was a safe haven for me when I had nowhere else to go and no hope in my life. It was here that I first met the Dragonborn. I will never forget it."
"As well, the Rift was where the foundations of our relationship were laid, think about it." Serana spoke from across the room as she looked at Inigo and Lucien. "The months we spent in Fort Dawnguard in Dayspring Canyon, field training and all that. I think, in a way, this Hold is special for all of us."
"How far we've come since then!" Lucien realized how much had passed since those days, and was overcome by the nostalgia. He'd first met Cura and Serana in Dead Man's Drink, in Falkreath, but they did spend much time in the Rift and in Dayspring Canyon together. The image of the beautiful autumn woods in flames caused him to shudder.
Jarl Laila returned to her seat. "I trust sometime you'll tell me more about it - your journeys sound fascinating."
Saerlund turned to the two of them. "Wow... so you were with the Dawnguard? My mother sanctioned their organization the minute she heard about vampires lurking around in Skyrim. I guess it was the right call. But, why are you friends with one?"
"Serana is a good vampire." Lucien explained simply. "She's as civil as the rest of us - perhaps even more."
Serana nodded. "Don't worry; I won't bite if there isn't a reason for it." she said with a dry tone. "I want the same as all of you - I want to see a free and healthy Skyrim. It's my home, too. I've lost too many things I've cared about; I don't want to lose my home, as well."
"That's fair." Saerlund acquiesced. At any rate, he was just glad the vampire was on their side.
Jarl Ulfric, Jarl Skald, and Jarl Korir emerged into the main hall, and the other two looked discontented, but accepting of the facts. "I got them all caught up. Nobody likes the idea, but it must be so."
"I suppose we're all going to Whiterun together, then. There's no way I'm going back to Winterhold just to travel to Whiterun again." Jarl Skald announced firmly.
Jarl Korir turned to Laila. "You have guestrooms available, right?"
"I do, if you don't mind sleeping in bloodstained sheets." Laila warned them about the bed that Inigo was treated on.
"Well, I'm certainly not going to open myself up to being pickpocketed at the Bee 'N Barb." Jarl Korir said with a laugh.
Jarl Skald rethought matters. "Hmm... perhaps I could stay at Haelga's Bunkhouse. You know... for boarding. Temporarily. For one night."
"She uses Netch Jelly. Be careful." Jarl Korir warned him, warranting a slap on the arm. The others present stared at him, contemplating the implications of that knowledge, but quickly shirking it off.
Jarl Laila turned to Inigo, Serana and Lucien once more. "The three of you are welcome to wait here for as long as you need. You can ride with us to Whiterun. Some more time to recuperate for what lies ahead."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Riften, Inigo, Lucien, and Serana would find solace within the sturdy walls of Mistveil Keep. The day's events have left them weary, but the promise of safety and a moment's peace within the Keep offers a much-needed respite.
Inigo, ever the vigilant guardian, perched atop the battlements, his keen eyes scanning the twilight. He hummed a soft, yet lonely tune - a melody of courage and camaraderie, a reminder of the bonds forged in the heat of battle.
Lucien retired to the Keep's library on the bottom floor. Surrounded by ancient tomes and the scent of parchment, he delved into his research, seeking knowledge that might aid them in their upcoming endeavors against the Daedric forces.
Serana, with her enigmatic past and vampiric grace, found a quiet corner in the Keep's gardens. The night bloomed and nocturnal whispers were her companions as she contemplated the path that lies ahead, the weight of eternity on her shoulders.
Together, they stood united, a beacon of hope in a land shrouded by impending darkness. Mistveil Keep, with its stone walls and steadfast guards, was their sanctuary for now. But the call to adventure was ever-present, and soon, they will venture forth once more, into the unknown.
May their stay at Mistveil Keep be a time of rest and preparation, for the challenges that await are many, and the fate of Skyrim hangs in the balance.