(General POV)
The early midsummer morning in the ancient city of Winterhold was, as usual, a mess of fog and cold winds blowing in from the Sea of Ghosts, there was barely any visibility and it would remain as such until later in the day.
The residents hated it with a burning passion.
One might imagine that they would at least appreciate the small amount of warmth in the air and a general lack of snow but no, the air was wet, the roads were wet, and as soon as they left their homes their hair would unsurprisingly also end up just as wet.
Summer mornings in Winterhold were miserable and everyone agreed on that.
So it was surprising to the point of being suspicious when a majority of the less wealthy population of the eastern section of the city gathered in front of an abandoned, yet still very much intact, temple to Talos.
The presence of those who openly spoke in favor of Ulfric Stormcloak and even some of the guardsmen made the scene outright alarming.
The crowd surrounded a trio of Nords, the visible duo at least middle aged while one was not identifiable. Two wore armor while one was dressed in the thick furred robes of a Nordic priest of Talos and Shor.
Of the two armored men, the most recognizable was Thorgrim. An old guardsman of Winterhold and one of the Lieutenants, he was known among the people to almost openly hate all elves and his hatred of magic was the talk of the town for years.
Likely the reason why he was never chosen as the Captain of the guard even after all his long years of loyal service considering that one in four Winterhold guardsmen could use at least basic combat magic.
The second man openly wore the blue sash of the Stormcloaks but none of his other features was recognizable as he was covered head to toe in heavy housecarl's armor with his face hidden behind a long mail aventail.
As the final dregs of the assembled crowd finally quieted down the priest spoke loudly and with certainty "Welcome my brothers and sisters, my heart burns with joy to see so many of you were moved by the word of our righteous cause!"
People in the crowd nodded rapidly, many of them more than happy to waste their morning away for the promise of free food and sticking it to the 'rich pansies' in the other parts of the city.
"This city has been struck by a great tragedy!" The priest raved on "First the mages destroyed its proud walls and sunk its glorious halls!" Some among the crowd were already taken by anger with the mere mention of the great destruction that happened "Then your Jarl died to elven bandits, leaving his young son in the clutches of magi and elves alike!"
Even those who only came for the food were getting into it at this point.
"And the vile knife ears had the audacity to come here and infest our beautiful city with their stench, flaunting their no doubt ill gotten wealth in our faces!" The priest scowled terribly as he spoke.
One of the younger men in the crowd tried to speak out against the priest's words, for he knew that the King of Skyrim would never allow someone as wicked as the priest's words proclaimed into his council, that someone being the same person who invited the 'knife-ears' here of course. But the moment he showed disagreement an older man next to him smacked him in the head and shoved him back, throwing him onto the ground and right into a small pond of particularly muddy water.
The priest, too busy with his speech to notice this, spoke further "My lord, the true High King Ulfric Stormcloak weeps for your misfortune, just as he yearns to grant you the tools to liberate yourselves from the elven yoke!" The priest's sermon became more and more fervent as he kept speaking "I call for your aid, my brothers! Help us liberate this city and free our dear Jarl from the influence of foreign schemes!"
"You want us ta fight the guards?" One of the older men asked, his whole being radiating incredulity.
"Of course not, dear brother." The priest raised his hands placatingly "We need you to but cause a distraction while Talos' anointed warriors storm the keep, all you need do is cause a bit of a mess, enough to distract as many guards as possible."
"So just go an' smash the elves' place?" The old man snickers.
The priest smirks in response "Nothing would please me more."
The crowd started talking amongst each other and as the noise became too much for them to be overheard Thorgrim spoke to the other armored man "Are you certain you can take on Hjolmir? I can't counter his magic other than dodging it."
The chainmail-masked man grunted in irritation "For the last time Thorgrim, yes I can fight the Ebon-frost."
"And what of the false King's Court Mage?" The priest asked quietly.
"We need to take the keep before he arrives and delay him as much as possible." Thorgrim shook his head "I don't doubt for a moment that he would crush us like bugs."
The Stormcloak fixed him with a calculating glare "Just how powerful is this elf child?"
"Powerful enough to slay a thousand Falmer with three words." Thorgrim practically spat "Best way to kill him would be to ambush him but I doubt even that would work, we've got to take hostages and hope the creature has something resembling a heart."
"As honorless as I expected you to be." The Stormcloak snorted in disdain and before Thorgrim could retort with what was no doubt going to be a tirade of insults judging by his red face the priest interjected "We should begin soon, the more we delay the greater the chance of the magi interfering."
Thorgrim clutched his weapon and growled "Let us begin then."
The priest cleared his throat and outright yelled "My brothers it is time! March into the streets and cleanse this city of the foreigners' foul taint once and for all!"
The riled up crowd needed no more prodding than that and soon marched out into the streets in the hundreds. None of them ever noticed the lack of a certain young man who dared voice his doubts earlier.
Only when the last of the dregs left the temple's vicinity did a group of six dozen Stormcloak-marked guardsmen in Winterhold lamellar step out into the clearing.
"Come on then lads." Thorgrim grunted and started walking toward the keep "We have Imperial dogs to kill."
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The early midsummer morning in the ancient city of Winterhold was, as usual, a mess of fog and cold winds.
Everyone hated it with a burning passion.
But when a crowd of angry poor people armed with implements and torches stormed out of the eastern quarter most of the residents swore they would thank the heavens for fog and wind the next time. Partly because they hoped they would live to see next time.
The response of the actual, loyal guard was swift... almost too swift, the hidden agitators among the crowd noted. However, they quickly decided that the situation worked for them perfectly and simply went on with the plan.
The crowd started smashing the houses and property of non-Nords or their local 'sympathizers' causing most of said residents of the city to flee toward the guards.
Soon the two opposing forces reached each other and a shoving match followed by harsh beatings of the rebels followed soon after. The crowd was never going to even dent the city's defenses but the thousand something rabble would easily take up hours of the guards' time.
Just as planned.
On the other end of the city, the band of Thorgrim reached the Jarl's keep without any opposition, one of the passing guards asked them why they were heading in the wrong direction but they simply lied about getting non-lethal weapons and the man went on his way, completely ignorant of the blue sashes his former fellows wore due to the fog.
They entered the keep with much the same ease for the Jarl never locked his gates to his people 'A respectful outlook but it would cost him greatly' thought the Stormcloak agent.
As they walked into the great hall they saw Jarl Assur reading up on some report while his steward leisurely scribbled down some notes, both of them enjoying hot breakfast as they were slowly waking up.
Yet the moment the rebels stepped into the hall Assur's eyes snapped up to meet them, and he gave them no time to threaten him "So... you finally decided to forsake both your honor and your people Thorgrim?"
The young man's words stopped the rebel leader dead in his tracks. "You knew we were coming." He frowned deeply.
"Did you really think I would allow a known rabble rouser to move around without supervision now that we were at war?" Assur asked mockingly "Your every move was watched and your every action prepared for."
"You and your fucking elven trickster!" Thorgrim spat "I see now that saving you from your own foolishness is a lost cause." He unsheathed his weapon "It seems to me that Winterhold needs a new Jarl to lead it."
Assur outright laughed at this yet his eyes carried steel beyond his years "Oh, craven traitor without honor, it requires not a new Jarl." He snapped his fingers "What it needs is a cleanup."
The moment he did so the chamber was swiftly filled to the brim with all twenty of the young man's housecarls and the Captain of the guard himself. Hjolmir stood as tall as his ancestor, his enchanted armor and mace glowing with power as he glared at the group of traitorous guards he considered to be his own failures "Give the order my Jarl." He spoke calmly but the harshness of his voice could have melted steel.
"Your opponent is me, Ebon-frost." The Stormcloak agent stepped out, his greatsword held ready.
"Another honorless assassin then?" Hjolmir spat "Very well then dog of Ulfirc, I will butcher the rest of these failures after painting the ground with your brain."
The two groups started sizing each other up, the more numerous attackers knowing intimately how much stronger the housecarls were, yet at the same time outnumbering them more than three to one.
Whatever further pre battle banter was about to happen was interrupted when the Stormcloak suddenly moved to the side, barely avoiding a vicious looking bolt which then slammed into the guard behind him, setting him on fire and filling the room with the smell of cooked meat.
The defenders took this as a signal and charged forward as one, smashing into the more numerous force of rebels like a hammer. Axes and shields crashed against each other yet even as both sides tried to keep to their formation, a couple of openings were inevitable.
Through one charged the greatsword wielding Stormcloak, now wary of the hidden crossbowman and easily dodging his next two attempts, something which was made much harder when a pointed iron rod nearly took his head off.
His eyes met his attacker and glared as Captain Hjolmir pulled back his telekinetic missile, both veterans turned utterly silent, far too busy sizing each other up.
While this was going on Thorgrim managed to push through the crowd, his task and goal clear to all as he rushed toward the young Jarl.
The young man was moderately skilled for his age, yet that availed him none as managed to deflect but a couple of the old guard's axe strikes before he found himself with multiple light wounds across his body, slowly slumping back toward his throne.
Yet just as Thorgrim was about to finish his 'righteous' task of killing the son of his once friend, his instincts screamed at him to move and he just barely managed to avoid the steel blade of a sword from decapitating him, the bridge of his nose was not as lucky.
He glared at his assailant but the moment he realized who he was looking at his heart fell "Thorfinn." Thorgrim said bitterly.
"Traitor." The young Nord spat venomously, his skin already covered in iron-like magic and his blades shining with enchanted might.
Something in the back of Thorgrim's mind told him that what he was about to do was wrong and that slaying someone he practically raised in the guard was a sin greater than foregoing his revenge.
He crushed the feeling with cold fury.
Nothing would stand between him and cleansing Skyrim from the knife ears, nothing.
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The stone toll cometh!
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