We made it back to Galteir’s tannery just as the sun touched the horizon. The workers had already gone home, save for two men who lived in Galteir’s house. They helped us unload the horkers into what was basically a meat locker, an uninsulated stone box with iron banded doors. They’d explained it was to keep the trolls and bandits out. Galteir paid us for the horkers, laughing as he’d heard the story of the beheaded one. I’d asked the twins to keep the bandit ambush quiet until we spoke with the Jarl, thankfully nobody noticed the arrow hole in Angven’s vest or that the blood on it was his own.

The guards were all eating in the hall by the time I’d put my dogs away in the stable and made it inside, the twins following along. Rolvar tried to flag me down, but I waved him off as I made for the Jarl’s table.

“Jarl Korir, Jorman, I have something that you should know. I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner, but could we speak somewhere?” I tried to be discrete, but all the guards had their eyes glued to me anyways.

“Johannes, certainly. Come.” He waved me to follow through a set of double doors behind the table. It turned out to be his own quarters, a living room of sorts.

“What is it Johannes? Something to add about the black mage? We’ve already had him hung and burned.” Korir chuckled. It would have been more merciful for me to have killed Jurger while he was unconscious.

“No Jarl, I don’t think he had anything to do with this. I went on a hunt with Anglin and Angven, out to the west—” Angven interjected.

“We went along the road to Dawnstar, through the pass to Blackstone Beach, hunting for horkers.” He gave me an apologetic look.

“—right, on the way back, we were ambushed by bandits. There were eight of them, led by a man named Black Tooth. We won obviously, but Angven here was almost killed. He would have been if I hadn’t brought healing potions. I found this note on Black Tooth, he had orders to ambush a metal caravan from someone named Merkin.” I offered the note to the Jarl. He took it and read quickly. He handed it to Jorman after, and had a whispered conversation.

“A new day, a new service. It was good of you to bring this to me. You two. Angven, Anglin, you’d do best to keep this to yourselves. Johannes, do you have proof of their number?” He eyed the smaller leather bag I was holding. I offered it to Jorman. He opened it, counted softly.

“Eight hands Jarl, as he said.” Jorman nodded to me.

“Not four pairs?” Korir grinned when Jorman had to check again.

“Eight right hands, Jarl.” The housecarl smiled.

“Excellent. That makes for seven hundred pieces for the rank and file, this Black Tooth has a standing bounty, I put it out on him several weeks ago. Jorman, go see to the treasury, and pull three purses for these men, five hundred pieces each. You were planning an even split?” Jarl Korir looked for affirmation, quick glances were exchanged.

“Johannes saved my life, those potions aren’t cheap, or easy to come by Jarl. My brother and I will take four hundred each, the rest is due to Johannes.” Angven spoke.

“Then the debt between the two of you is settled. Clever boy, very clever. Go on Jorman. As I said you two, keep this quiet until you hear me make an announcement. These bandits almost certainly have someone in town feeding them information. We need a plan to deal with this scourge Merkin.” Jarl Korir leveled an imposing stare at the two before turning to me.

“Johannes, you have done me a great service with this, and I’d ask you do another. You’ve proven yourself an able warrior, and a thorough investigator. I’d like for you to help me resolve this situation. My guards are spread thin, there just aren’t enough men to raise more than the minimum to keep the town safe. You’re a stranger here, your face won’t be known as one of my retainers. That’s all I’ll say for now.” Jarl Korir eyed the two boys.

“I could do with killing a few bandits. Thieves and murderers deserve a short meeting with a long rope.” I bowed my head.

“A man after my own heart. I’ll send one of my servants for you in a few days. Your pay.” The Jarl gestured to Jorman, the man was loaded down with large sacks of coins. A brief thought of how much money the Jarl had crossed my mind, there was a good chance that he’d paid me a sizable chunk of the tax he collected this month, if not more. We put our pay away into our bags, and were ushered out back to the hall. Angven and Anglin got a free meal, and said they’d be ready for work just after first light in the morning.

Rolvar and some of the other guards tried to get us to spill the scoop for them, but all three of us kept quiet. Instead, we told the story of our horker hunt. That got enough laughs that the guards forgot about the strange meeting with the Jarl, for now. After dinner, I went to my barracks room and crashed. The fatigue of a long day hit me all at once, and I was sound asleep before I knew it.

The next day was less exciting. Nothing interrupted our hunt, and we were back to the tannery with three horkers just after noon. Galteir promised more work in the coming weeks, he was expecting to need elk hides for a regular client. The pay wouldn’t be as good, but that was hardly a problem. I counted out my coins after a long, painstaking effort, and came to a total of seventeen hundred and change, plus my cut of the jewelry and trinkets from the bandits. The twins were holding onto the bandit weapons we’d taken, keeping them out of sight till the Jarl’s announcement.

I decided to relax for the next few days, spending time in the tavern, practicing my archery with the twins, and anxiously awaiting a summons. The twins had a house near the college, close to the cliffside. It had obviously been rebuilt from a ruin at some point, the stone of the foundation was mis-matched and the architecture didn’t match with the older buildings. Their family was a large one. Their father spent his time as a tailor, his leg had never healed right, with his wife and daughters to help. They were pleasant enough, the twins had apparently sung my praises without giving anything away. Their father had tried to corner me for answers about his son’s blood soaked vest. The boys had stonewalled him with a simple ‘Jarl’s Orders’ excuse. I told him the same, but that he’d know in time.

The old hunter hadn’t liked my answer, but stopped pressing me afterwards. Others in town were more insistent with their questions on other subjects. The time I’d spent in the tavern had introduced me to a fair few people, most of them excited to meet the man who brought the necromancer to justice. Others had different purposes.

“Johannes was it?” A robed figure came to sit at the table with the twins and I. He was about my age by the looks of it.

“That’s right, yourself?” I looked him over, he didn’t strike me as the usual tavern patron. He was too clean, and carried himself with a silent arrogance that showed in his eyes.

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“Jori, I’m a mage of the college. I wanted to speak with you about the things Mirabelle has been reading. In private, if we could.” He made a pointed look at the twins.

“Go on boys, go bother those pretty girls you’ve been looking at.” I waved the two of them off. Anglin and Angven shrugged, and did exactly as I’d suggested. Jori cleared his throat.

“Do you know anything of magic? Anything beyond the normal rumors and wives tales?” Jori asked.

“I might have before, but I took a blow to the head. Everything before the blizzard a couple weeks ago is a mess. I know some things about spells, but nothing more.” It was an honest answer.

“I see, then I’ll keep this simple. Jurger was playing at some very, very dangerous magic. He wasn’t like the other necromancers, but it doesn’t change the fact that what he was doing… It was heinous. Despite his goals to help solve murders and provide a last goodbye for the dead, the magic he was using doesn’t work that way. The powers that govern the undead are cruel, fickle, and greedy. Jurger’s work would have solved murders, surely, but it also sentenced the souls of the murdered to an eternity of suffering. You did the right thing to turn his journals over. I just thought that I’d warn you, in case you had taken a peek into his study. I wouldn’t use his magic against the worst, most awful enemy. Nothing a person does in this life warrants such a punishment.” Jori was deathly serious. What little guilt I felt over Jurger’s fate vanished. I’d been right to burn his cave.

“So what of the journals? Destroyed, locked up?” I asked.

“Best that you don’t know for certain. Be careful on your travels. Word will spread of the man who had a necromancer hung, and it will frighten those who hide out in the ice. Those bastards have burned what small amount of good will that I and some others had built in the last few years.” Jori’s face scrunched, cold fury emanating from his clenched fist.

“I noticed the locals don’t seem to hold the College in good standings. Seems a bit odd when most of the money coming in and out of the hold is from traveling wizards.” I spoke quietly, hoping not to anger any locals that might overhear. Galteir and a few others ran successful businesses, but they were the exception. Most of the population was barely scraping by.

“Because they know the stories of the old Winterhold, before the collapse. This city used to be a competitor to Windhelm, Solitude, and White Run. Now it’s barely a hamlet. The college can’t survive without help from the locals, and the locals need the college, it’s a shame that we find ourselves at odds.” Jori lamented. His words stirred something in my mind.

“The college, it’s the only thing that survived the collapse. Hundreds of homes, the Jarl’s palace, entire bloodlines of Winterhold fell into the sea, it killed hundreds, thousands even. You can’t blame them for looking at the mages with suspicion, when the only other theory is about a volcanic eruption that happened years earlier. It wasn’t an earthquake that dropped the city, it was the storms.” I didn’t know where the knowledge was coming from, I’d caught Jori off guard.

“You know your history well. You aren’t a local though? They’ve been calling you the stranger.” Jori’s brow raised.

“No, I’m not a local. Someone would have recognized me if I was. I don’t know where I’m from. There’s flashes of my life, things I know, like what I just said about the college, that come back to me at random. The nearest I can tell, I was a bounty hunter, or an adventuring blade for hire. I think I knew magic, but… it’d be dangerous to try.” I had been working on a story to live by, memorizing it, doing my best to keep it consistent.

“It would be. That leads to something else I wanted to speak to you about. Do you know of the Vigilants? The followers of Stendarr, hunters of the evil and foul?” He asked. That tickled something.

“Vampire hunters? No, not just vampires. There’s something there, tell me.” A feeling of admiration had joined the recollection of the faction, protectors of humanity from the evil and profane arts of magic.

“Vampires, werewolves, undead, daedra, and all other abominations that roam Tamriel. They’ve only really found a foothold in Skyrim, but other orders like their own exist. The Knights of Stendarr are another, they fought bravely during the Oblivion Crisis. The Vigilants though, they’ve been sending their members across all of the holds. I thought that perhaps you were one of their number.” Jori tried to jog more memories.

“No, I don’t think I was a Vigilant, but I do like the sound of them. Why don’t they send a force here to hunt down the necromancers?” It seemed like Winterhold was in desperate need of their help.

“I first learned magic as a Vigilant, I walked the roads, purged beast and corpse. My wanderings led me here, where I decided to learn more of magic. The reason the Vigilants don’t come in force, is because there aren’t enough of them. The Reachmen conjure up daedra with their blood sacrifices, the ancient barrows of our ancestors hold all manner of cursed skeletons and draugr. There are rumors of… A friend sent a letter to me some months ago, saying that two master vampires had been caught and killed, one in the Rift, one near Solitude. I’ve heard more rumors of other covens appearing too. Keep that to yourself. The simple answer is that something is happening in Skyrim, and the forces of darkness have grown powerful.” Jori sounded exasperated with the last sentence. It must be disheartening for him, having fought the things.

“The Jarl here wants to fight back against the evils, why don’t you try to arrange a meeting with someone senior in the Vigilants? I know the College isn’t widely respected here, but you could approach him as a follower of Stendarr.” I suggested. The Jarl had been generous for my own act against a single necromancer, the Vigilants might find an ardent supporter with him.

“I’ve tried. He says that he couldn’t support a wide campaign against the necromancers while the bandits are raiding the roads.” Jori leaned in very close, a slightly conspiratorial look in his eyes.

“If you ask me, it isn’t because he can’t afford it. He’s worried that this business between the Jarl of Windhelm and the High King Torygg will become an open war. If he spends his blood and treasure to fight the bandits and necromancers, he’ll be caught out of position when the war comes. The people here need a victory though, otherwise the hold will die a slow death.” Jori jogged another memory.

“The Stormcloaks… right. The Jarls will be building their strength now, trying to be ready. Must be like that all over the holds if the rumors you’ve heard are true. How they expect to fight a war when their holds are overrun with bandits, demons, and corpses is beyond me.” It was grim tidings. More memories crossed my mind, ending with an awful, black scaled fiend.

“Alduin.” I whispered to my self. Jori’s eyes narrowed.

“What was that? I didn’t hear.”

“Nothing, I think the troubles for the people are only just starting. You should send a letter to your friends in the Vigilants. Prepare for a war of their own. If the holds do march on each other, there won’t be anyone but you all to hunt down the wicked things.” There was a man that was already doing that, far to the south.

“You aren’t the first to think that. There was a split in the ranks a few years ago, some of our best thought that the Vigilants weren’t being aggressive enough. A man named Isran has made fools of the rest, even if his claims were baseless at the time.” Jori shrugged.

“Or he saw things that the rest of you didn’t want to.” I countered. That annoyed Jori, but he didn’t argue.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll probably find my self on a horse to the Rift before long, rumor is that Isran is rebuilding an old fort. Care to join?” Jori let out a chuckle.

“I might, I’d also like to learn some of the magic of the Vigilants, if you could make the time. Healing, righteous spells, protection from all these foul things roaming about. I can fight bandits and beasts, mages are hard to kill when they’re lighting you on fire.” I grinned. Jori nodded.

“I have several projects to finish at the College, but by the new year I should have time. Speaking of, I have a lesson to attend soon, I got carried away in our conversation. Thank you for the time Johannes, it was good to speak with someone who wields knowledge as well as an axe.” Jori put his hand out. I shook it, and the mage left. The twins came around a few minutes later.

“What was all that about?” Anglin asked.

“Just a talk about the troubles of the world. Come on, we’ve got more mead to drink.” I flagged down one of the serving girls. They’d hassle me about it for the next few days, but Jori was right. Master vampires, daedra worshippers, undead, necromancers, the rumors would only spread more panic among the people. If the Jarl wouldn’t help to hunt down the evils directly, it may be up to a merry band of freelancers. Dungeon diving was profitable, wasn’t it?

My plans would have to wait until after the business with the bandits was done. Making a name for my self in the hold would be a good step in the right direction. Having the backing of the Jarl would be even better. Maybe he wouldn’t send his own guards along, but his money and his blessing would help all the same.