As he looked to the Sun and listened to the air, the Doom Slayer saw the dragon flying overhead, its roar echoing over the mountains, and realized he was lost.

He had three objectives now.

The first objective was to find the greatest threat to this place and put an end to it. As far as he could tell, that was the dragon.

The second was to learn as much as he could about this land while he was here. He had to be sure he knew what other threats there were, so he could assemble a priority ranking. Not to mention find a way to reach the damn dragon.

The third, which the second would certainly make easier, was to find a way back to his world.

None of these could be accomplished by wandering around blindly and demolishing anything in his way, he figured. So, he decided to wait.

Eventually, Ralof emerged from the cave behind the Slayer, out of breath. "You're still here? Figured you'd have run for the hills by now..."

"Mm."

"Hadvar is close behind. No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We better clear out of here." Ralof gestured down a stony path. "My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out. It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn't have made it without your help today."

Splitting up — bad idea. Soldiers always got killed when they tried to go it alone. Doomguy shook his head.

"You'd rather stick together? I suppose it's a short enough distance."

"Ralof!" Hadvar's angered voice echoed.

The Doom Slayer turned around a full 180 degrees to face the emerging Imperial with only the slightest pivoting motion on his feet. The message was clear, and Hadvar backed away, lowering his sword.

"You...do you even know about the civil war?"

Doomguy shook his head. Of course he didn't know. He also didn't particularly care, but if he could take these reasonable men's minds off of killing each other to focus on talking, all the better.

"It started with the invasion of the Thalmor," Ralof said.

All of a sudden, Doomguy cared. A conquering force with an ominous-sounding name? Whose actions were causing people to turn on each other? They might as well be his new primary target. Not before he understood exactly what he was dealing with, though.

Ralof continued. "The Empire surrendered to the Thalmor, allowing elves control of Skyrim. And in their treaty, they banned traditions that have been sacred in this land for hundreds of years!"

"It was a war we couldn't afford to fight!" Hadvar retorted. "If the Emperor hadn't signed the peace treaty with the Thalmor, they would have destroyed the Empire — then where would Skyrim be? That's the part that Ulfric's supporters always conveniently forget about."

Ralof folded his arms.

Tensions were once again building, so Doomguy put his foot down — literally. His stomp shook the ground and crushed the stone.

After a moment to steady himself from the tremors, Hadvar finally spoke to Doomguy. "What do you even want, Blazkowicz?" he asked. "What's the purpose of stringing us together like this?"

Fiiiiine. He used as few words as he thought he could get away with. "Seen this before. Hate it. Bigger problems."

"You think that dragon is a bigger problem than the divide in our homeland?"

"Might be. Want to know."

"Well, it's definitely a more immediate threat," Ralof agreed. "Especially if it continues going after towns. If the Imperial garrison at Helgen couldn't bring it down, what hope does Riverwood have?"

"You're... You're right," Hadvar agreed. "Riverwood needs reinforcements. I have family there."

Doomguy made a satisfied smile under his helmet.

"Let's go," Ralof said, and the three men started running down the path. A pair of wolves on the hunt spotted them and were swiftly slain.

"See that ruin up there?" Ralof pointed to what looked like a stone temple, nestled in a mountain to the north.

"Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place."

Hadvar added, "When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing. I admit, I still don't much like the look of it."

Ralof said, "I guess some get used to it, and others...don't." He had a light chuckle at the Imperial's expense.

Along the way, three intricately shaped stones caught Doomguy's attention. He slowed down to examine them and the carvings on them. These carvings were the outlines of a warrior, a mage, and a thief, dotted with indentations connected by straight lines. They must have been constellations.

Hadvar noticed how the man who normally charged ahead without a second thought was pausing and stopped for him. "These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself."

Doomguy placed his hand on the stone depicting a warrior. The outline glowed with blue light, and he felt some kind of energy welling up within him. It was completely unlike Argent, unlike the Divinity Machine — unlike anything he'd ever felt. Primordial, yet subdued and filtered.

"Warrior, good! Those stars will guide you to honor and glory," Ralof commented. Hadvar nodded in agreement.

The Doom Slayer didn't need the guidance of stars. But a part of him felt good, being acknowledged as a warrior, and not a soldier, slave, pawn, ruler, or any other term that came with complicated underpinnings, beholden to the whims of others. A warrior only had to fight for his own causes.

Regardless, he continued on his way.

"So," Hadvar spoke to keep the silence at bay. "Why did you join the Stormcloaks, Ralof?"

"I believe it's the duty of a true Nord to oppose the Thalmor, and any who would abide by their tyranny. Why did you join the Legion?"

Hadvar said, "Because Skyrim will tear itself apart at the seams if we don't establish order."

Ralof said, "Well, now the dragons might do the tearing apart before any of us."

"Yeah..."

They arrived in Riverwood. The houses were made of wood and straw on stone foundations. Doomguy calmly took note of this, as well as a conversation between an old woman on the deck of a house and her grown son.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!"

"What? What is it now, mother?"

"It was as big as the mountain and black as night. It flew right over the barrow!"

"Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother. If you keep on like this everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies."

"You'll see! It was a dragon! It'll kill us all and then you'll believe me!"

Not if the Slayer had anything to say about it.

Hadvar stopped to see a blacksmith, standing on the stairs to his outdoor workstation.

"Uncle Alvor! Hello!" he said in greeting.

"Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from..." The blacksmith took a closer look and balked at Hadvar's worn-down appearance. "Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Shh. Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."

"What's going on?" Alvor asked, then looked at Ralof and the Doom Slayer. "What is a Stormcloak doing with you, and who's this?"

"The one in green is a friend. Saved both our lives, in fact." Hadvar insisted, "Come on, I'll explain everything but we need to go inside."

"Okay, okay. Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat, and you can tell me all about it."

"I should catch up with my sister Gerdur," Ralof said as he continued down the road. "Down by the mill. I hope I never have to see you again, Hadvar."

"Riverwood still needs defenses," Hadvar said as he began to climb up the stairs. "Some kind of military presence to..."

Ralof and Hadvar both turned to look at Doomguy in a long, silent pause.

"Blazkowicz," Hadvar eventually said. "Can you send word to the Jarl? Riverwood needs more guards."

"Who?" Doomguy replied.

"Jarl Balgruuf, ruler of Whiterun," Ralof answered.

"Where?"

"Just continue to follow the road straight from here and you should soon see it," Hadvar finished, and the Slayer immediately started off in that direction.

"Wait, stranger," Alvor called out. "Are you certain you want to just run off without a moment's rest? No food or drink for the road, even?"

Doomguy became acutely aware of the fact he actually could use a bite to eat. Before, he sustained himself with his sheer hatred of demons and the power infused into him. But now there were no more demons left to kill, at least none that had any possible means to ever escape Hell. And in killing the original source of his power, he had lost it. Hunger, a pain long forgotten to him, had returned to rear its ugly head.

He turned around and went to join Hadvar and Alvor.

Inside, Alvor called to his wife, who came running. "Sigrid! We have company!"

"Hadvar!" said Sigrid. "We've been so worried about you! Come, you two must be hungry. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat."

Doomguy took off his helmet and sat down in a wooden chair at a wooden table. He tried not to think about how fragile everything was, relative to his usual activities.

"Your friend has a face built like an orc," Alvor commented as he and Hadvar sat down.

"His strength puts any orc I've seen to shame."

They shared a laugh. Doomguy cracked a slight smirk.

"Now then, boy, what's the big mystery?" Alvor asked. "What are you doing here looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"

"I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked by...a dragon."

"A dragon? That's ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you, boy?"

"Husband," Sigrid scolded. "Let him tell his story."

Hadvar admitted, "Not much more to tell. The dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out if not for my friend here. I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."

Alvor exclaimed, "Of course! Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'd be glad to help however I can." He then turned to Doomguy. "Like I said, I'm glad to help however I can. But I need your help. We need your help."

Doomguy ate a small loaf of bread on the table and a few leaves from a head of cabbage.

"For the road?" he repeated to Alvor, asking him for additional supplies.

The blacksmith gave him a slice of cheese, a roasted goat leg, an apple, a few carrots, and an empty drinking tankard, then continued. "The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless...You need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf to send whatever soldiers he can. If you do this for me, I'll be in your debt."

Doomguy nodded, put his helmet back on, and excused himself. These people might consider his manners poor, but he was saving their lives, and he didn't care if he was a little rude when he didn't know how many seconds he could afford.

With that, he sprinted to Whiterun.

Down the winding road, on the outskirts of the city, he saw a group of warriors fighting a towering humanoid figure near a farm. The Slayer jumped to their aid, figuring it would be quick, and he was right. The giant, already riddled with cuts and arrows, fell in a single deft stroke of the Doomblade. It was almost disappointing.

A woman with face paint approached, an archer who had been firing on the giant.

"You handle yourself well," she said. "You could make for a decent Shield-Brother."

He saw no reason to respond, but she continued to talk.

"Judging by your armor, I take it you're an outsider. Never heard of the Companions? An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough."

Suddenly, he was glad he had stayed long enough to listen, because that reminded him of...better times. Not the best times, but better than they were now. If he was going to stay any longer than he needed to, the Companions might be the best choice for him to stay with.

He could think about that another time. For now, he just nodded and continued on his way, leaving it at that. Heading up the path to the gates of Whiterun, he noticed a camp of cat people posted just outside a guard tower, and briefly wondered why they didn't enter. Were they not permitted?

He got what he assumed to be his answer from one of the guards at the gate, dressed in yellow. "Halt! City's closed with dragons about. Official business only."

If he knew anything about the situation, it was that barging in anyway would only get the entire city on his case, and his armor made him unmistakable, so trying to slip in stealthily wasn't an option. "From Riverwood," Doomguy muttered.

"Hm? You'll have to be clearer than that."

"Riverwood. Reinforcements. Dragons."

"Speak clearly, man! What are you, a wild beast?"

Okay shut. Up. Asshole.

"The dragon...that attacked Helgen...flew over Riverwood. Riverwood...needs reinforcements." For his first full statement in ages, Doomguy spoke rather slowly. Not because he had forgotten how, but to pack as much emphasis into each word as possible, to convey to the guard that he did not have time to sit around and yap.

"Riverwood's in danger, too? You could've been clearer about that." Gripes aside, the guard unlocked the gate. "You'd better go on in. You'll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill."

Finally. Doomguy wasted no time entering and rushing through the streets. The sun was beginning to set. A man in armor and a woman wearing a blacksmith's apron were talking near the entrance, but he ran right past them, behind the man.

"We'll pay whatever it takes, but we must have more armor for the Imperial soldiers."

The woman saw him rush by. "I... Did you...?"

"Hm?"

"Never mind. But I just can't fill an order that size on my own..."

He attracted further attention from shopkeepers in the open market stalls who were closing up for the day at that exact moment, but the frighteningly mobile colossus of a man paid them no heed. He passed a great mead hall, presumably the dwelling of the giant-slayers he had encountered on his way to the gate, and kept on going.

Just as he'd been told, a great palace stood at the top of the hill through which Whiterun's streets snaked. Well, "great" was relative—the Doom Slayer saw such structures made of wood and stone as quaint yet tragically frail. Frankly, he couldn't see how it could stand up to a human invasion, much less a dragon attack. Shelving those thoughts, he pushed in the palace's towering door and made his way inside. There, he found himself at the bottom of a flight of stairs—one last bit of climbing to do.

Evidently, the Jarl and his court were already in the middle of a political discussion. "I only counsel caution," an advisor said. "We cannot afford to act rashly in times like these."

"What would you have me do, then? Nothing?"

"My lord. Please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act. I just..."

It was then that they noticed him. The Doom Slayer, standing at the edge of a pair of dining tables stationed across from the throne. There was a long pause as they stared at him, then the Jarl finally spoke. "Who's this, then?"

A dark-skinned elf woman with leather armor left the Jarl's side and stepped up to the Slayer. "What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving any visitors."

UUUGH. He'd hate to admit it to them, but he was starting to miss having Hayden and VEGA around. It was so much easier when all Doomguy had to do was run around killing things and, if he had to talk to anyone, they could just communicate remotely. "Helgen... Dragon attack," he muttered.

"A survivor in shock? But...no, you definitely don't look like a civilian. Well, if you have news from Helgen, the Jarl will want to speak to you personally. Come forth."

As the Slayer stepped up to the throne and his eyes met those of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, he felt himself getting sick of quizzical looks, too. Maybe he'd need a spare set of armor to blend in after all, or at least scrounge up his old Argent D'nur armor if he could get back to his fortress at some point. But then he couldn't use any of his fancy Praetor Suit gadgets and UUUUUUGH.

"So. You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

"Destroyed Helgen. Tried to kill me. Made for Riverwood."

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" Balgruuf exclaimed, before turning to his balding steward. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

Doomguy huffed with pride; his intuition hadn't failed him.

The elf woman said, "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."

The steward, Proventus, started to talk over her. "The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him.

"We should not..." Proventus started to add.

Balgruuf cut his steward off with a firm shout of, "Enough!" Hearing it, Doomguy knew he liked this one. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!"

The Jarl then turned to the elf woman. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

The elf, Irileth, said, "Yes, my Jarl."

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventus sounded out-of-breath.

"That would be best," Balgruuf affirmed. He then turned to the Doom Slayer. "Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Here, take this as a small token of my esteem."

The Jarl procured a cuirass of steel armor and presented it to Doomguy. It was far inferior to the Praetor Suit, but he wasn't going to refuse a gift offered in earnest, no ulterior motives attached. Balgruuf's words, too, indicated he knew the Slayer had no need for the armor; it was simply a gift suitable for a warrior culture. The Doom Slayer took it with a nod.

Getting the measure of the man in green, Balgruuf continued to speak. "There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons." The Jarl stood from his throne and began to walk to a side room, where a man in dark hooded robes was busy at work...