The cold wind of Solitude bit at my skin as I stepped onto the worn, wooden platform of Castle Dour's training grounds. My boots echoed softly against the planks, the sound swallowed by the murmuring soldiers gathered before me. They were a mix of seasoned veterans and fresh recruits, their faces a blend of anticipation, fear, and something else—an uncertainty that only the truth could quell. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of my leather vest over the simple monk's robes I wore. My fists, rough and calloused, clenched and unclenched at my sides, the muscles in my forearms tightening instinctively.
I glanced over the crowd, my eyes—sharp, ice-blue—meeting theirs. The wind tugged at my grey-streaked hair, tied back in its usual ponytail, a few loose strands whipping against my face. The cold was biting, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in Skyrim.
"Listen closely, all of you," I began, my voice cutting through the chill like a blade. The soldiers quieted, their attention locked on me. "The tale I'm about to tell isn't just history—it's the reason we stand on the brink of war."
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the story in my chest. "Ulfric Stormcloak," I said, the name alone causing a ripple through the crowd. "Jarl of Windhelm. To some, a hero. To others, a murderer. But to all, a man who has shaped the fate of Skyrim."
A few soldiers shifted uneasily. I saw in their eyes the same doubts and questions that had plagued this land since Torygg's death. I stepped forward, my gaze hardening as I recounted the events that led us here.
"Before this war began, Ulfric was a man driven by one thing—his belief that Skyrim should be free from the Empire's grasp. He wasn't wrong to want that," I said, the words laced with a bitterness that surprised even me. "The worship of Talos, one of our most revered Divines, was banned by the Empire—an affront to our very identity as Nords. And the Empire itself? Weak. Compromised by the Aldmeri Dominion, more concerned with keeping its power than with the people it swore to protect."
I paused, letting the truth of those words sink in. "Ulfric believed he could change that. He challenged High King Torygg to a duel—a duel of the Thu'um, the voice of the Dragonborn. In this duel, words aren't just words—they're weapons. And Ulfric's shout, his Thu'um, was powerful enough to take Torygg's life in a single breath."
There was a murmur among the soldiers, their faces a mix of awe and horror. I could see their minds turning, trying to reconcile the man they knew—or thought they knew—with the events I was describing.
"One shout, one word, and the High King of Skyrim was dead," I continued, my voice grim. "Ulfric didn't just kill a man that day—he tore the heart out of Skyrim. And in its place, he planted the seeds of war."
I let out a slow breath, the cold air stinging my lungs. "Some called him a hero, a man willing to do whatever it took to free Skyrim from the Empire's chains. Others saw him as a power-hungry tyrant who murdered his way to the top. But what you need to understand, what you all must grasp, is that this isn't just about one man's ambition. It's about the future of our people, our land."
The crowd was silent now, the gravity of the situation settling in. I knew I had to give them more—not just the facts, but the reality of what was to come.
"Ulfric Stormcloak was captured," I said, my voice quieter now, more intense. "And as we speak, he's being taken to Helgen, where the Empire intends to execute him. But don't think for a moment that his death will end this. His followers are many, and their cause won't die with him. This war is just beginning."
I scanned the faces before me, looking for the Thane of Solitude among them, but he wasn't there. A knot of worry tightened in my chest. I turned to Nikolai, the Thane's closest friend, who stood nearby, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Nikolai," I called out, stepping off the platform and moving closer to him. "Where's Jayson? He should be here."
Nikolai met my gaze, his expression grim. "I overheard from one of his party members—they're headed to The Reach."
I nodded slowly, digesting the news. "We can't afford any more distractions. If the Thane is in The Reach, then we need to keep a close eye on the situation. But there's more," I added, lowering my voice.
Just then, Jordis, the housecarl of Jayson, approached us, her face pale and serious. She bowed her head respectfully before speaking. "Sir Skaldor, I bring urgent news from my Thane. The Dark Brotherhood… they've made a move."
I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. The Dark Brotherhood was a shadow that loomed over us all, its reach long and its methods lethal.
"What have they done?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jordis handed me two letters, her hands trembling slightly. "We found this in the assassin's body. It's a—a list of targets. Some are Imperial targets."
I took the letter, breaking the seal with a swift motion. My eyes scanned the contents, and my heart sank. "This is bad," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else. "Very bad."
I looked up at Jordis, my expression hardening with resolve. "You need to get this to Jayson immediately. Tell him that your party must return to Solitude at once. We need to act on it, and quickly. We can't allow the Brotherhood to strike first."
Jordis nodded, determination replacing the fear in her eyes. "I'll be on my way sir Skaldor."
"Good," I replied, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "And Jordis… be careful. This message must arrive as quickly as possible."
As she hurried off, I turned back to the soldiers, who had watched the exchange with growing concern. "This war is not just about swords and shouts," I said, my voice carrying a new urgency. "It's about shadows and whispers, about enemies who strike from the darkness. We must be vigilant, strong, and united. If we let our guard down, even for a moment, it could be the end of us all."
I let my gaze sweep across the gathered soldiers one last time, feeling the weight of their expectations, their hopes, and their fears. "This is our land, our people, our fight. We stand together, or we fall. The choice is ours."
With that, I stepped down from the platform, the weight of the coming days heavy on my shoulders. I knew what lay ahead wouldn't be easy, but I also knew that we had no choice but to face it—together.
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie shadow across the camp. Jordis, my house carl staggered into the clearing, her face pale and eyes heavy-lidded from exhaustion. I could see the weariness etched into every step she took. My anger flared like a firestorm; she shouldn't be pushing herself like this.
"Jordis," I snapped, my voice cutting through the chill of the evening air. "You're done for the night. Take some rest." I said as she gave me a letter with the imperial stamp in it, which means that this is an official order from the Legion.
She opened her mouth to protest but closed it with a resigned sigh, her shoulders slumping as she trudged toward her bedroll. Aldis and Titus were already on edge from their shifts, and I could see the fatigue in their eyes too. It wasn't just Jordis who was feeling the weight of our troubles.
"Aldis, Titus," I barked, "you two are switching shifts. Keep sharp. I'll go out and find us some food."
As I read the official orders from the Imperials. Ulfric Stormcloak had been captured. Relief should have washed over me, but it was quickly overshadowed by a gnawing sense of urgency.
"Returning to Solitude at once?" I muttered, gripping the message tightly. I crumpled the letter and threw it by the fire. "Return my ass. It's better to venture out in good condition than exhausted. We will stay here for one more day. Belrand and Jordis need their rest."
Aldis looked up, a question in his eyes, but I cut him off before he could speak.
"Before you take your rest, Aldis, help Titus with the watch. I'll handle the hunt."
Aldis nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face as he moved to assist Titus. I watched them for a moment before slipping into the shadows. My mind was racing, but my body was calm and focused. I'd seen the Dark Brotherhood assassins lurking a while ago, their presence like a dark cloud on the periphery of our camp. They were waiting for us to lower our guard, and I was ready to give them a reason to regret their choice.
As I moved stealthily through the trees, a maniacal grin spread across my face. I whispered to myself, "Finally, I can release some heat."
The thrill of the hunt coursed through me as I wove through the underbrush, my frustration and anger bubbling beneath the surface. The moonlight played tricks on the leaves above, casting ghostly patterns that flickered and shifted on the forest floor. My hand gripped the hilt of my sword tightly, every crackle of the foliage heightening my senses.
I knew the assassins were close. They probably saw us as a weak party, easy prey for their twisted games. They had no idea what I was hiding, no inkling of the power I had kept concealed. Tonight, I was going to channel all my pent-up rage and unleash it on them.
The night felt like it was mine to command, and I was eager to make them pay for underestimating us. I grinned in the darkness, eager to show them the true strength I possessed.