Journal of Inigo the Brave
14th of Second Seed
The food here is great! The cooks of the Blue Palace truly have no equal in this land. Mine and Ysmir's dinner was brought to us in his room, since I spent the rest of the day there.
We had braised beef, pan-fried slaughterfish, baked potatoes, grilled leeks, mountains of bread with butter and garlic, and cheese! So many types of cheese I lost count.
And to top it off, Erdi, Divines bless her soul, brought me an entire tray of sweet rolls! I must have had at least a dozen.
For once, Ysmir barely ate.
His mind races, I can see it in his eyes. We talked well into the twilight hours, trying to find the answer to this impossible situation we find ourselves in.
The problem is General Tullius. No matter how many Jarls Ysmir and I are able to convince to support Elisif, General Tullius has his orders.
Ysmir says he knows the type of man Tullius is: a Colovian through and through. A man of honour and a man of action, no desire to mess around with politics. He will follow his orders, no matter how distasteful he finds them.
I pray he's not forced to break up the Moot by force. The Empire can ill afford a blunder like that. The Nords of Skyrim, loyalist or Stormcloak, will not stand for an affront to their traditions of that significance.
Our only hope is the orders themselves. For once, the stupid vagueness and deniability of Imperial political talk may actually do more good than harm. If we can give General Tullius an out, a way for him to check all the boxes and follow his orders without disbanding the Moot, he will surely take it.
He's an Imperial, he's not stupid.
We need to make sure Jarl Elisif is aligned with the Empire, her appointment to High Queen is supported by no less than 7 Jarls so as to not appear divisive, and somehow make sure her focus is on strengthening Skyrim.
But for all of our combined smarts, Ysmir and I can not figure out a way to do this. We've come too far since High Hrothgar for everything to fall apart now.
I believe Ysmir is beginning to get frustrated. He wishes to speak with Lady Elisif, I suppose to affirm his loyalty and discuss political strategies, but he has been constantly denied an audience.
The victory banquet is tomorrow, and all the Jarls will be there. Hopefully Ysmir will have a chance to talk to her then, along with the other Jarls. In the end, no matter how we handle the Tullius problem, the first step will be breaking his majority vote so that he does not feel emboldened to act.
I will not lie, the thought of our task, of Ysmir's task, weighs down the soul. And I don't just mean the banquet, I mean everything. To me, no matter how much progress we make, the future remains insurmountable. But that doesn't seem to bother Ysmir.
I wish I had his ability to trust in the future. At least I trust him.
But enough about the unstoppable approach of the End Times. For now, I must rest well. I'll need all my charm and charisma tomorrow night. If anything, I can look forward to more delicious food!
The great hall of the Blue Palace was spacious and opulently decorated. Imperial style pillars stretched up to a concave blue ceiling. Beautiful works of stained glass, the likes of which Ysmir had only ever seen in churches, were set on every wall. Nine banners, one for each of Skyrim's nine holds, hung from the room in honour of the occasion.
The head table, covered in flowers and candelabras, stretched across the farside of the room, elevated several steps up from the main floor. On the main floor were four long tables laid out perpendicular to the head table and decorated in an identical way. Servants rushed back and forth from the tables and the kitchens carrying trays of pastries and large jugs of wines, along with the finishing touches of the floral decorations.
As Ysmir and Inigo crossed the threshold of the doors to the hall, the master of ceremonies announced them.
"Masters Ysmir the Dragonborn and Inigo the Brave!"
The servants looked up and stared at Ysmir and Inigo for a few seconds, then hurriedly got back to their tasks. Under a bright red banner of a wolf's head, the banner of Solitude, Jarl Elisif sat on a throne centered at the head table, her steward and advisors sitting to her left. With her hand she beckoned them over.
The pair confidently strode with their heads held high down the scarlet red carpet between the dinner tables towards Jarl Elisif.
Ysmir side-eyed Inigo as they walked. "How'd they know to call you 'Inigo the Brave'?" he quietly asked.
Inigo, completely infatuated with the flood of delicious looking dishes coming out of the kitchens, did not respond.
They stopped just in front of the main table and bowed respectfully. Lady Elisif, her hands in her lap, returned the gesture by gracefully tilting her head.
"Masters Ysmir and Inigo, I see the royal tailors were able to suit you well," Elisif said, gesturing to the new clothes Ysmir and Inigo were given just for the party.
Ysmir shifted uncomfortably in the tight, itchy tunic he was wearing. "Yes, thank you Lady Elisif," he respectfully replied.
Elisif smiled back. "To what do we owe the honour of your early arrival to tonight's dinner?" she asked.
"We had heard that you were also an early attendee, my Lady," Ysmir answered, "we had hoped to have a chance to talk to you, before tonight's festivities started."
One of Elisif's advisors, a wiry Nord Thane in a furred coat, rushed her throne and pushed past her orange-haired steward. He whispered in her ear, staring directly at Ysmir and Inigo. Elisif listened intently, and her face twitched and slightly contorted on more than one occasion.
Suddenly, she lifted her hand and dismissed the Thane.
She returned her attention to Ysmir and Inigo once again, "Yes, I would enjoy that. We have had so little time to speak since your arrival at the Palace."
Elisif gestured to the empty seats to her right, "Please, you are both welcome at my table for tonight. Join me, would you?"
"We would be honoured," Ysmir replied. He and Inigo bowed, then walked up the stairs and around the table to their seats.
Elisif adjusted in her throne and leaned to the side towards Ysmir. When she spoke her voice was soft, far softer than when she and Ysmir were exchanging pleasantries.
"I must say I'm surprised," she said, "that you finally want to talk. Right before the feast nonetheless."
Ysmir furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm sorry," he said, speaking softly to match Elisif, "but I don't understand, my Lady."
"I've sent for you a great many times since yesterday, but my servants always came back saying that you did want to be disturbed."
"My Lady, there must be some mistake. No one ever came to us," Ysmir said.
"In fact, we tried several times to arrange a meeting with you. But each time we were told you were too busy planning for tonight's party," Inigo quietly added.
"Is that so…" Elisif said, pensively scratching her chin. She leaned over to the other side of her throne and spoke to the man to her left, once again barely more than a whisper, "how did that happen, Falk?"
Falk Firebeard, the Jarl's steward, looked up from the papers and letters he was organizing.
"I'm sorry, Jarl," he replied. True to his name, his hair was the colour of a raging fire. "I thought I passed that on to trustworthy palace staff. I should've seen to it personally."
Elisif said nothing, simply shaking her head in annoyance. Beside her, Falk, clearly disappointed and apologetic at his failure, quietly sank back into his work.
A few other guests were beginning to trickle in now. They were mostly Thanes from other Holds and powerful business owners from around the Empire, not particularly important. One by one the Master of Ceremonies announced them, and one by one they came up to the head table and greeted Jarl Elisif. Ysmir could tell the exchange of pleasantries did little to lighten her mood.
"I don't blame Falk," Elisif said during a break in the formalities, "he's a good steward and he does his best. But he's only one man. The Blue Palace has become a dangerous place in the last few months."
"Oh?" Ysmir pensively asked.
"My court has never been more divided," Elisif explained, "nothing but scheming and jockeying for power they think they deserve. Not to mention meddling from the outside by Imperial businessmen. The only one still loyal to me, the only one without his own agenda, is Falk."
Inigo smirked. "A veritable wolf's den," he joked as he took a grape from an ornate bowl in the center of the table and popped it into his mouth.
Elisif let out a quiet chuckle. "Yes, the irony is not lost on me."
"Everyone has their own ideas for the future," she continued, "and they think the only thing standing in their way is a weak and naive widow."
"But none of them have any claims to Solitude," Ysmir said, being sure to avoid the topic of Elisif's weakness, "surely they don't think removing you from power would make them Jarls?"
"Have you ever heard the old Imperial saying, 'war is a peasant's nightmare and a noble's dream'? More new Jarls have been propped up in the last few months than in the entirety of the 4th Era. But it's true, most know they can never openly rule Solitude themselves. They wish for a more… shadowed, manipulative control."
Elisif was interrupted by the rattling, metallic clang of the grape bowl falling off the table accompanied by Inigo's panicked cursing. Within seconds a flurry of servants rushed to the table. They collected the scattered cluster of grapes rolling away from the table and down the stairs, bringing them away as Inigo showered them in apologies.
"This is all my own doing," Elisif began again, a hint of self-pity in her voice, "back before the Civil War, me and my late husband, High King Torygg, worked hard to bring prosperity back to Skyrim after the Great War. He handled the ceremony and chest-beating, and I administered the realm and handled the politics. But I'm no warrior, so when Torygg was murdered and the rebellion began I allowed General Tullius to conduct the war as he saw fit. I don't regret it, the war was won was it not? But now, the nobles of the Empire think I'm nothing but the hand that presses the royal stamp onto whatever General Tullius sends me. Those same people want that arrangement for themselves, and they think they'll get it now that the war is over. Fools."
This was, of course, information that Ysmir already knew. It was not common knowledge, but Erdi and the Path made sure he was informed. But Elisif had no way of knowing that. Why was she telling him her court secrets? Ysmir was by no means a master at the art of politics, but even he could sense a game was being played.
"Why are you telling me all this, Jarl?" Ysmir asked Elisif.
"Because I want you to understand one thing. I am not weak, and I am not naive. The High Queenship is mine, by right of heirship, by Imperial tradition, even by historic precedent. I will not be swept aside. Not by petty nobles with delusions of grandeur, nor puffed-up Imperial bureaucrats looking to fill their pockets. And especially not by you."
Ysmir's face remained calm, but inside he was thoroughly surprised by Elisif's confidence and abrasiveness.
Without a moment's pause, Elisif gracefully turned her eyes back to the ceremonies, and with a pleasant and disarming smile she greeted the next guest.
More guests slowly trickled in, now came ones of higher social standing. Their ranks were made up of exotically dressed foreign ambassadors and puffed-up Imperial dignitaries, people that the Jarl had to devote more attention to when they came up to honour her.
Ysmir used this distraction to take a sip of water from the silver goblet in front of him and refocus himself. Elisif considered him a threat to her in the Moot? The court of the Blue Palace truly was in chaos at the moment. On a positive note, Jarl Elisif was proving to be far from the weak and indecisive widow many had made her out to be. Ysmir could take a deep breath knowing that choosing to support Elisif was the right decision.
"How's it going?" Inigo whispered into Ysmir's ear. Since he had dropped the grape bowl, Inigo had been distracted by the steady stream of appetizers that were coming out of the kitchen to the table.
Ysmir shook his head, "the Jarl thinks I'm trying to take the throne from her."
Inigo swallowed the bite of fresh baked bread he had been chewing. "Oh," he said, "well that's not good. You better tell her it's not true."
"Indeed," Ysmir replied, with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
"Jarl Brunwulf Free-Winter of Eastmarch!" the master of ceremonies yelled out. Guests of honour were finally starting to arrive, which meant the dinner would soon start.
"Jarl Elisif," Brunwulf said as he approached the head table, "it is good to see you again."
"The pleasure is mutual, Jarl Brunwulf," Elisif replied. "My congratulations on your new station. I understand Windhelm has suffered greatly these past few years? If there is anything Solitude can do to help, let me know."
"My thanks. Yes, the scars of the siege run deep throughout the city and the hold, but all of Skyrim bled during the Civil War. She requires a just and kind ruler to lead her into the future."
"Of course. The resources of Haafingar are mine to command, and I shall send them wherever they are needed. My only desire is to see the people of Skyrim heal and reconcile."
"I'm glad to hear it. And I, for my part, shall honour my late friend's memory. You have my support in the Moot, as well as my condolences for the unjust murder of High King Torygg."
This pledge of support was no surprise to Ysmir, but a welcome relief nonetheless.
"Your condolences," Elisif gratefully said, "and support, are appreciated, Jarl Brunwulf."
Brunwulf bowed, then looked towards Ysmir. "I was in the crowd the day you slew Ulfric Stormcloak. Never in my years have I seen a more awesome and terrifying power."
Ysmir did not reply, he simply nodded his head.
"Skyrim is lucky to have a hero like you defending her," Brunwulf added. Then he turned and followed one of the palace servants to his table.
Ysmir could tell that Elisif did not enjoy that final comment from Jarl Brunwulf.
"My lady," he said as leaned towards Elisif, "I think there's been a gross misunderstanding."
"Oh?" Elisif sourly asked.
"I have no intention of challenging you in the Moot. In fact, I would do everything in my power to see you claim your rightful place as High Queen. That is why Inigo and I were looking to speak with you."
Elisif scoffed, "you would sit here and proclaim innocence even as Jarl Balgruuf, quite loudly, pledges his support to you?"
"That's… not what it seems, my lady."
"Oh really? Tell me, Ysmir, what is it then? Let me guess, a misunderstanding?"
Before Ysmir could reply, the master of ceremonies once again yelled out into the great hall.
"Jarl Igmund of the Reach!"
The Jarl of Markarth pushed past the master of ceremonies and walked grimly down the red carpet of the great hall. A dark reputation preceded him.
The Markarth Incident, the spark that lit the flames of Ulfric's Rebellion, was the result of short-sighted decisions made by Jarl Igmund during the Reachman Uprising. And now the Forsworn, the descendants of those Reachman who rose up, were pillaging his hold and killing his people.
"Thank you, Jarl Igmund," Elisif began, "for taking the time to come to our—"
"I need more soldiers Elisif," Igmund cut off, "I barely have enough men to garrison Markarth. On the roads the Forsworn raid my trade caravans and grain shipments. Without wheat entering and silver leaving, Markarth is doomed."
"I promise that as soon as the Moot confirms my ascension to the throne I will send whatever aid I can, Jarl."
"I don't want promises Elisif, I want actions. You," Igmund looked towards Ysmir, "you're the one who slew Ulfric, are you not?"
"I am," Ysmir replied.
"That's how a true Nord deals with problems, with strength of arms. None of this politics and ceremony hog-wash, like some milk-drinking Elf maiden. The Reach needs someone like you."
"The Reach needs all of Skyrim, not just one of her sons," Ysmir countered.
"Hmph," Igmund grumbled, "if you say so. Let it be known that whomever seems most able to save my hold will have my support. Good day."
An awkward silence hung over Ysmir and Elisif as Jarl Igmund left. The silence persisted until the master of ceremonies announced another guest.
"Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun!"
Beside him, Elisif took a deep breath. A small smile crept onto Ysmir's face. This was the opportunity Ysmir had been waiting for. A chance to prove he was telling the truth.
Jarl Balgruuf walked down the red carpet to the table and gave a small, half-hearted bow. "Jarl Elisif," he said as he stood up, "my thanks for tonight's dinner."
"My pleasure," Elisif replied, "and thank you for honouring us with your attendance."
"Quite," Balgruuf gruffly replied. With the bare minimum of decorum finished, he immediately turned his attention to Ysmir.
"An honour to see you again, Dragonborn. The tales of your heroics are recounted and praised nightly in the halls of Dragonsreach. I'd have given anything to see you strike down the traitor Ulfric, in his own city nonetheless. As I'm sure you've heard, my voice is your voice tomorrow."
Elisif's face grew red with frustration, but she did not speak.
Instead, Ysmir spoke. "I'm honoured that you would put your trust in me," he said, "but Jarl Elisif is Skyrim's rightful High Queen. If your voice is mine, then you will speak in favour of her in the Moot."
Ysmir's words caused a small panic to the left of Elisif, where her court of scheming nobles and advisors were seated. But Elisif herself made no sound. Ysmir, his eyes locked with Balgruuf's, could not see her reaction.
Balgruuf ran his hand down his beard. "Very well," he finally said, "you've not led Whiterun astray yet. Jarl Elisif, my vote is yours tomorrow."
Balgruuf once again gave a meagre bow, then turned and left to his table.
Elisif was speechless.
Ysmir broke the silence, "I hope this proves I'm being sincere when I say you have my word that I will do all I can to support you, my Lady."
"I…" Elisif began.
"Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone of Hjaalmarch!"
Jarl Idgrod greeted her niece with all the pomp and tradition one could expect from an aged woman.
"I've always found clarity and directness to be the best way to handle these things," she bluntly said, "you have my support tomorrow, grand-niece."
"Thank you, great-aunt," Elisif replied.
"And you," Idgrod said pointing towards Ysmir, "the Divines revealed to me the strength of your character. You can trust him, Elisif."
Jarl Idgrod's visions, supposedly revealed to her by divine sources, were a well known, if controversial, topic in Skyrim. Many considered her enigmatic at best, and crazy at worst. But Jarl Elisif always knew her great-aunt to be wise and learned.
"I think I agree with you," Elisif responded, "enjoy tonight's dinner."
Jarl Idgrod smiled, but left without another word.
Ysmir mentally congratulated himself. "Thank you for trusting me, my Lady," he said.
No," Elisif replied, "thank you Ysmir, and my apologies for my rudeness before."
Ysmir shook his head dismissively, "there is nothing to forgive, my Lady."
A large queue had formed at the entrance to the great hall. It was clear the time for talking was over, for now there would be a constant stream of new guests being announced. Luckily, Ysmir was sure that he was able to gain Elisif's trust, successfully averting a potential crisis. The next few guests, unfortunately, proved his work was far from over.
One after the other, the Jarls indebted to the Empire came up and greeted Elisif. And one after the other, they dodged any attempts to confirm their vote at tomorrow's Moot.
This was a confusing turn of events for Elisif, but a terrible realization to Ysmir. It was clear that behind closed doors these Jarls had already been coerced into supporting a potential Imperial takeover of the province, whether that be by prolonging Tullius' status as military governor or by installing their own puppet High King. Nothing else could explain why they were purposefully vague about their intentions tomorrow.
After all the guests of honour were seated at their tables, with the notable exception of General Tullius, the feast truly began. Platters of meats and cheeses and breads and roasted vegetables were brought out and heartily dug into by all present.
Solitude may have been the heart of Imperial culture and influence in Skyrim, but that did little to temper the spirit of the Nords within it. It didn't take much time for casks of mead to be brought out and tankards to be filled by the dozens. And not long after that, boasting and chest-thumping turned into, mostly, good natured brawls between various housecarls and advisors.
Bards from the College in Solitude played merry tunes from a small wooden stage to the side of the hall. Many people, including Inigo, were now dancing in a small square that had been cleared of tables and chairs.
It was nothing short of chaos in the hall. But a chaos that was completely normal, even expected, at Nord feasts. At some time during the chaos, General Tullius entered the hall unannounced and took his seat at the head table beside Ysmir. Several different nobles and other important people tried to come up to Tullius and talk to him, but he seemed stressed and distracted. Like his mind was somewhere else.
Eventually people learned to leave him alone and let him brood in his seat.
After some time Jarl Brunwulf invited Jarl Elisif to dance, and she graciously accepted. Almost as soon as she left, Tullius walked over and sat beside Ysmir.
"Are all Nord gatherings like this?" Tullius asked, trying and failing to nonchalantly break the ice.
"For a victory feast this is actually quite tame," Ysmir replied, "I suppose that's to be expected after such a long and costly one."
"Indeed. The citizens of the Empire can rest easy for the time being. But there's no doubt about it, Skyrim, and the Empire as a whole, is terribly weakened."
"Yes, but Skyrim is strong, and I believe that when she recovers she'll be stronger than ever before. That strength will be the Empire's."
"I hope so, for everyone's sake," Tullius said, barely more than a whisper, "the Empire wants nothing more than to see Skyrim strengthened. There are… many in the Empire who would see a strong and loyal leader take the reins of the province, so to speak, and will do what it can to make sure that happens."
"Well that is… good I suppose."
"In my eyes, you have proven to be both strong and loyal. If you understand my meaning."
"Lady Elisif is the rightful High Queen, she has my support."
"Recent events have proven she's not... strong enough for the Empire. She does not have to support of the White-Gold Tower."
A long, pensive pause preceded Ysmir's reply.
"I think I need some time to think, General," he quietly said.
Tullius scratched his twitching nose, "by all means." And with that, Tullius left. Leaving Ysmir alone at the empty head table, where he would remain until the dinner's end.
Damn it, he thought to himself. All the progress he had made, turned to dust in an instant.