Dragonborn Ascendant (2)

The city of Whiterun was far bigger than I remembered. The main road on the Plains District that cut through the entire layer right down in the middle, leading to the marketplace further inside the city and the stairs to the Wind District, was larger and much longer than I remembered, stretching far and bustling with people. The pedestrians that walked the streets were numerous, and although many of them were humans of the many races - though Nords were of course the majority of them - I could still very rarely see a Dark Elf or a Wood Elf here or there. I even thought I saw an Argonian at some point, but if that was true then the argonian quickly left my sight.

Many shops and inns littered the main street, much more than just a blacksmith right at the entrance, an inn, two houses - one of which was abandoned and in clear signs of disrepair, even if not looking outright decrepit, just merely left unattended - and a few more shops together with The Bannered Mare, another inn, right around the marketplace that were originally featured in the game. No, I counted at least some thirty different buildings while walking to the market square, and when I arrived there I was even more dumbfounded. There were dozens of stalls selling all sorts of things, but mostly vegetables. Perhaps a hundred people walked here and there was a buzz in the air of their talking, only being broken by the merchants yelling their prices to attract customers.

But then, as my group and I walked past them and went up the steps to the Wind District, the noises seemed to die down, contained by the thick walls that separated the two districts.

The Gildergreen tree was much bigger than I imagined.

“The Jorrvaskr is that way,” Farkas pointed out to the path going to the right. It led to a long house whose roof was an upside down ship. At least that one remained relatively in scale with what the game had shown. “Home to the Companions. Come see us once your business with the Jarl is done,” he offered. “You are shit with a sword but if you have the balls to taunt a giant and fight it then I’m sure we can make a warrior out of you yet. I'm sure everyone would be honoured to have a shield brother like you.”

“I’ll think about it,” I ended up grunting an answer. The offer was appreciated, and one I would probably be taking since I was sure I would end up finding myself in fights, having some actual combat skills would be invaluable to me then. “Still, thank you once again. You’ve made life quite a bit easier for me with the guards. And…” I hesitated, “about Aela…”

“Bah, don’t worry about her,” Farkas waved my words away, landing a heavy palm across my back. “Woman has been acting out for a while now, I’m sure it’ll pass. She’s done it before.”

That didn’t reassure me much, but I knew it would be all I could get. So I sighed. “Very well.”

“Godspeed to you, Magnus. I hope to see you again soon.” We clasped hands another time and I was off to Dragonsreach.

The stairs to the Jarl’s residence were numerous. Dragonsreach was an immense fortification raised on top of a hill that seemed to truly have been created with the intent to trap a dragon with its halls. It was massive, seemingly built to house giants, and as I rose two or three hundred steps it became increasingly clear to see why this was called the Cloud District. From up here, it really felt like the city below was so… small…

There were two guards posted on the doors to Dragonsreach, and I offered them a nod as they let me inside without much fuss. The interior of the castle was equally impressive, just as the outside. Impressive was a word for it, just as colossal, although the latter was perhaps a bit of exaggeration. Everything here seemed to be made as big as possible. The fire pit, the walls, the ceiling,tables. It was a ridiculous way to flaunt money the Jarls of Whiterun wielded, but it was an effective one nonetheless.

Though I didn’t have much time to admire the building as quickly a guarded Dark Elf approached me, a frown on her face as she stood poised ready with a drawn short sword on her hand.

“What’s the meaning of this interruption?” She scowled, eyeing me with suspicion. “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.”

“I have news,” I said. “From Helgen about the dragon attack, and Riverwood.”

“Dragon attack?” She muttered darkly, though still not low enough I didn’t manage to catch her words. Her lips pursed, drawing in a thin line. “That explains why the guards let you in. Come on then, the Jarl will want to speak with you.”

She sheathed her sword then, beckoning me to follow her as she turned and returned to her Jarl. Balgruuf sat on a throne in a slightly more elevated part of the great hall, and his eyes were immediately upon me just as Irileth, his Dunmer guard, told him what had brought me here.

I stepped forward.

“So,” the blonde Nord shifted on his seat, a hand lazily sustaining his head as he watched my every movement with an unreadable expression. “You were at Helgen?” He probed, “You saw this dragon with your own eyes?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I had a great view while the Imperials were trying to cut off my head.” I told, and that seemed to surprise the man as his eyes widened some and he adjusted himself.

“You are either foolish or rather brave, to admit having committed a crime in my presence,” remarked the Jarl slowly, considering me for a moment. “But who the Imperials wish to execute are none of my concern. Not now.”

“If fleeing from Morrowind is now considered a crime,” I scoffed, faking a scowl to the man. “I would have crossed the border to Cyrodiil that night, but the Legion suddenly came and stormed a group of Stormcloaks. They too were trying to cross that border, I’d wager, and the Imperials didn’t care about who they captured.”

“I assume they brought you to Helgen then.” Balgruuf interjected, unwilling to hear my story.

“Aye, they did. My name wasn’t even on their list but the captain would have none of that and put me to the block regardless,” I told the noble. I worked my jaw for a moment, trying and failing to mask the genuine hatred I felt for that woman. Good riddance. “Though I guess… since they had captured Ulfric Stormcloak in that ambush they must have thought everyone next to him was another rebel…”

“You say that Ulfric Stormcloak was captured?” Balgruuf shifted another time, and at my nod his expression hardened. A long moment of silence stretched as the Jarl pondered over things, and he was done, his features turned dark. “Ulfric and now dragons…” the blonde Nord muttered. “These are ominous signs, foreboding a dark future ahead of Skyrim if what you tell is true.”

“It is,” I affirmed, not that this was very convincing at all. Still I continued. “I only managed to flee the destruction with my life because of luck and the strength of mine and my companion’s arm. We stayed the night at his uncle’s house in Riverwood, Alvor, and he had seen the dragon too, coming south from the valley. Which is why I came here.”

“Alvor?” The Nord hummed, stroking his beard for a pensive moment. “The smith, eh? Reliable, solid fellow. Not prone to flights of fancy.” He paused then, turning his head to address the man on his right, a balding man dressed in fine robes. “What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?”

“My lord,” Irileth took a step before the Imperial could speak, quickly catching the attention of the Jarl. “We should send troops to Riverwood at once.” Advised the red haired Dunmer. “It’s in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains…” She left the words hanging, but everyone present knew what wanted to say.

“The Jarl of Falkreath will see that as a provocation!” Proventus jumped. “He’ll assume we are preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him. We should not-”

“Enough!” Balgruuf yelled and the man stopped. “I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!” He declared firmly. “Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.” He commanded the Dunmer, and the woman bowed slightly before turning to carry her orders. And Proventus, who looked like he had eaten something sour, sighed, visibly deflating.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he directed to his Jarl. “I’ll return to my duties.” And he too left after Balgruuf’s dismissal.

Then the Nord sighed, watching the Imperial's back distancing.

"You sought me out of your own volition," the blonde Nord started, voice sounding a tad more tired as he turned to regard me once again. "And I am very grateful for your early warning. For that you have my appreciation." I bowed. "Take this, as a sign of my gratitude, and know that you are always welcome in my halls." The Jarl said, handing me another ten septims.

Fifteen gold septims. I believe that with this much gold I was quite rich for a free man. Probably richer than a farmer at least. I still don’t think I would be able to buy a set of armour. Alvor had told me that, if I wanted a full set of proper steel armour that was halfway decent I would need at least forty gold septims, and that was a lot.

Also, why did he have ten septims with him?

"Although…" Balgruuf stroked his beard. "Are you a mage, Breton?" He asked and I paused.

"I'd call myself a scholar rather than a mage," I started slowly, unsure on how to reply to that question. "But I can use magic to a certain extent, yes." I eventually nodded.

"I see," he nodded, rubbing his chin with a hum. "And, do you have somewhere you need to go? Or will you be staying in Whiterun?"

"For the time being," I nodded carefully. "I… I'll probably try and join the Companions. I met Farkas today, one of their members, he seemed receptive to the idea. Even offered me to join them at Jorrvaskr today."

"Oh, I see," the Jarl's eyes widened for a brief moment of surprise. He seemed pleased however. Well, the Companions were hometown heroes after all. "The Companions, eh? I would have offered you to be employed by my court wizard, Farengar, but since you'll be joining the Companions…"

"No, no," I shook my head quickly, cutting off the man. "I would very much like to work here." I told the man, and that got a curiously raised eyebrow, so I went to explain myself. "It's true that I intend to join the Companions, but… I would also very much like to learn magic, more than I currently do at any rate; and this is an opportunity I would not like to miss."

"That might pose a few problems to you, but, if you are willing to go through them, then I don't see why not." He got up. Balgruuf was a bit shorter than me, I noted. He was much more robust, but shorter, and that was quite surprising. I knew that amongst all the races of mer and men, the Orcs and Nords were the tallest on average, and I was finding myself quite surprised to frequently find myself taller - even if not by much - than even then.

Weird, but not in a bad way.

"Follow me," the blonde commanded. "Let's get you to Farengar, my court wizard. I'm sure he'll be pleased to have you around to work with."

The Jarl led me to a side room a short walk away from his throne, it was a study of considerable size, furnished with a number of bookshelves filled with scrolls and tomes. In the middle there was a grand table that acted as the centrepiece of the entire room, with a robed figure draped over it, fixated on a piece of parchment, quill moving furiously as he scribbled something.

"Farengar," Balgruuf called, and the wizard stopped with his writing to regard his liege, showing an old man in his early fifties, dark hair starting to grey on some parts.

"My lord," the mage bowed lightly. "How can I help you?" He asked, not even sparing me a single glance.

"Right now? Nothing," the Jarl returned. "Though that might change, soon. Which is why I… enlisted some help for you."

“Do you mean this Breton boy?” Questioned the darker Nord, soome tone of incredulity lacing his voice.

“Indeed,” I stepped forward, finding that as my cue. “I’m Magnus, and although I’m not a mage, I’d still like to consider myself a scholar.”

“A scholar you say?” The wizard regarded me with a sceptical brow. “We’ll see about that, I suppose. Do you have any talent with magic at least? That would greatly facilitate whatever task I might have to accomplish.”

“As I said before, I’m no mage, but I did manage to learn a new spell in less than a day,” I told the court wizard with no small amount of pride. “Admittedly, it was a remarkably simple one, just a simple Sparks spell, but I think not everyone could do the same I did. Except, maybe a High Elf.”

“Your words have merit, I suppose,” Farengar mused, working his jaw for a moment. “We’ll see how well you will fare then. For now, however, I have nothing for you to do, unless you want to deliver these frost salts for me.”

“Farengar,” Balgruuf said in an exasperated tone, but if the wizard picked up on it, either it went over his head or he willfully ignored it. And I wasn’t sure what was the most likely option.

“No, that’s all right,” I smiled at the Jarl. “I was going to depart shortly after this. The path from Riverwood was not a short one, and I feel rather tired. Sleeping properly on a bed would do me wonders.” Especially to the bubbles on my feet. Those were nasty. I’d need to go see the Temple of Kynareth, see if any of the priests could teach me a half decent restoration spell.

I grabbed the bowls. “Where should I bring these?”

“To Arcadia’s Cauldron,” Farenggar instructed. “It’s an apothecary surrounding the marketplace in the Plains District, hard to miss. Bring these salts to Arcadia, I’m sure that she will reward you. Somehow.”

Balgruuf sighed.