Our timing had worked out almost perfectly. The sun was dipping below the horizon, the guards would be changing shifts, the Jarl’s hall would be full of his men, either getting off guard duty, or about to take over the night shift. Karliene slowed to a stop at the gate, eagerly awaiting pats from her favorite guard.
“Rolvar. You look surprised to see me.” I stepped off the back of my sled, hands empty. The guard had a deeply conflicted expression.
“The Jarl said you were dead, killed during the fight for the barrow.” Figures he would try some underhanded shit like that. It still lets him claim me as a martyr.
“Ah, greatly exaggerated. I did get beaten bloody by a Draugr again, but that was after the Jarl tried to have me killed.” I traced my hand over the still fresh scar on my jaw. Rolvar twitched, as did two of the other guards close enough to hear.
“Champion, I don’t mean to call you a liar…”
“He’s telling the truth. Jarl Korir sent Hemjar and I, and those two.” Molnen pointed to the two would be assassins, bound on the sleds. “To kill the champion during his attack on Yngdaril. Johannes won, Hemjar is dead, and we have six witnesses. The Jarl betrayed his oath to his sworn sword, and spat in the face of the gods. I would suggest that you stay here Rolvar, don’t get involved.” Molnen looked to the other guards, none of them made any move.
“I… Do what you must.” Rolvar stepped out of the gateway. I stepped back on to my sled, and whistled for Karliene. There were more sleds behind me, Hania, Jorn, Lodor, their father, the Twins, Kalor, Molnen and the prisoners, Grimvald and two men from Seacrest, Gromm and his men from Icehome. Riga was sitting on the nose of my sled, she’d gotten very quiet, and very still as soon as Winterhold had come into view.
The town was quiet, the streets starting to thin out as the sun set. Everyone would be at home, or in the tavern, somewhere protected from the biting cold. We left our sleds in the street, the twins would keep a careful eye on them. There was no guard on the doors to the Jarl’s hall, and few people around to take notice of us.
“Champion, you still haven’t told us what your plan is.” Molnen had been pestering me about that for days. He’d find out as it happened, just like everyone else would. I reached into my ruck, and drew out the Helm of Winterhold. It had been hidden in the main burial chamber, in a chest tucked away behind a book case. It wasn’t an impressive thing, just a steel helmet, with Winterhold’s coat of arms etched on the front. It would be recognized though, the inscription across the brow and the obvious age left little room for argument.
“My plan is to save this Hold from an incompetent fool. Is everyone ready?” I looked at my assembled group, and handed the helm off to Jorn. Mages, old nords, young warriors, nobles, peasants, and prisoners. It seemed about right. There was a round of nods and affirmatives, then all there was to do, was to open the doors.
At first, not many people took notice of me. As the rest started to filter in, the conversations and scraping of forks died down, murmurs started, and finally the high table’s lively conversation died. It was quiet enough to hear a mouse for a moment, until one of the guards stood.
“The Champion lives!” A few men started the celebratory hoots and table beating, but stopped quickly when they realized none of us were smiling, and more than one hand was resting on a weapon. I kept right on going, up to the Jarl’s table, and came face to face with Korir. He’d seen better days, he was pale to the point of gray, and his face was haggard, but he wasn’t dying. Yet.
“Jarl, you don’t look happy to see me. Perhaps Hemjar would cheer you up?” I reached down to the sack tied around my belt, opened it, and dumped the head out into his dinner. Jorman jumped to his feet, hand on his sword, but not drawn.
“What is this?!?” The man was loyal to a fault.
“Really Jorman? You knew I wasn’t dead. Why would the Jarl spread that lie if he expected me to come back alive? Hemjar did his best to make sure I didn’t, on the Jarl’s order.” I turned back to Korir. The fear that had filled his face was gone, now it was fury.
“Lies! I was told you were—” I didn’t hold back, I slapped Korir full across the face with a plated backhand. Jorman started to draw his sword, but stopped as Hania beat him, the point of her sword hovering an inch from his neck.
“Jorman, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have overwhelming proof, don’t get yourself killed for this miserable drunk. Molnen, the prisoners?” I turned to the thegn, he brought our two prisoners forward for all to see. Korir was suitably cowed for now, an angry welt swelling on his cheek.
“These two men, along with Molnen himself, were ordered by the Jarl to kill me. Molnen warned me of the Jarl’s intentions, and these two men saw reason.” I reached back for Hemjar’s head. “Hemjar did not. He tried to ambush me in the barrow. He admitted to everything that Molnen had warned me of, and then went on with his task alone. We fought, he died. I have six witnesses here. Jorn, son of Thegn Bellin, Lady White Oak, Kalor of Seacrest, Molnen, and these two men. All of them will tell you that I am telling the truth.” The tension in the air, the disgust, the anger, but more importantly, the belief. The guards in the room believed me.
“Liar! I would never order such a thing! You have murdered my thegn, now you come with lies and conspiracy to seize my titles!” Korir rose behind me. I noticed he still had both legs, he must have gotten magical aid, a shame.
“Where is your proof that you did not order it?” I turned back to the Jarl.
“The gods have spared my life, why would they have healed an oathbreaker? Your lies and deceptions will end here!” Bad choice of words Jarl…
“The gods had nothing to do with your healing. Jorman, you went and got the Master Wizard didn’t you?” The huscarl looked uncomfortable.
“I did, the Jarl’s wound would have killed him otherwise.” Honest to a fault too.
“So, the gods didn’t spare you. You have called on them though. If I am lying, let them strike me down by your arm, prove to your people I’m a fraud, a liar, that you were right to send a pack of killers after me. You seemed so righteous before, why the fear? Surely the gods know your innocence. Come on, clear a space.” I waved my assembled witnesses away. I’d prepared for having to talk it out, prove my claim, the whole courtly affair, but it seemed we could do it the Nordic way.
“You would have me fight, while I still recover from my injuries!”
“You seemed fit enough to call me a liar. I’m challenging you, let the gods say who is telling the truth. And don’t you dare name a champion to fight in your name, this is a matter for us. Or are you a coward, in addition to being an incompetent drunk?” I stepped down to the floor in the middle of the hall. Korir had no choice.
“Jorman, sword.” Korir stood, he didn’t seem shaky at all, magical healing would have fixed him right as rain. The huscarl turned, mindful of Hania’s blade still held ready, and fetched a blade leaning against the Jarl’s seat. My hand found the haft of my axe, I held it down at my side. I’d specifically not worn any of my armor for this. Korir would have thrown it in my face, and I didn’t want to wait for him to put on his own.
“To be clear, I am challenging Jarl Korir because he broke his oath to me, has called me a liar despite the honorable witnesses I’ve brought, and because he is a fool that will drive this Hold even further into the ground if he’s allowed to keep his seat. I am challenging him to prove my words are true, and to take his seat as Jarl. I do not want his seat, and I had no inclination to take it before now, but he is weak, cowardly, and stupid.” I made sure I would be heard throughout. Korir stepped down to meet me.
“How dare you insult me in my own hall! Enough! You will not have my Hold!” Korir finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, raising his sword. Long trained, but ill-practiced form took hold of his arms. Korir tried for a lunge high. His age, and drinking, showed in his speed. He was faster than Hemjar, but he wasn’t nearly so heavy or strong. I knocked his blade off course, it spun out of his grip, and that was the fight. A single swing from each of us and Korir was face down to the floor, an oversized axe blade stuck in his shoulder.
“So dies Korir.” Bellin, Jorn’s father, let out a sigh. I levered my axe blade out of the deposed Jarl, it’d severed his spine just below the base of the neck. All eyes were on me now.
“I did not want this!” I pounded the butt of my axe into the floor, just to be sure everyone was listening.
“And yet there you stand, Jarl of Winterhold, over the corpse of the last. What will you do now?” Molnen called from his place to the side. I looked to Jorn.
“Jorn, the helm.” I beckoned him towards me. I took it, and held it high.
“This is the Helm of Winterhold. We recovered it from Yngdaril, I have fought, and won my challenge against the Jarl. If any of you have a reason for why I should not be Jarl, speak it. I will not hold it against you.” I looked to the guards, to Molnen and Bellin, to Jorman, nobody seemed to have anything to say. Save for the newly made widow.
“Murderer! You have no right to this place!” Thaena, Korir’s wife, started screeching from the table. I turned.
“Jorman, I have no ill-will towards Korir’s family, they will not be harmed, but I don’t have the patience for this.” Jorman didn’t need any further prompting. Thaena pitched a screaming, shrieking fit as Jorman hauled her off back to the private quarters of the hall, but nobody else had anything to say.
“So, no challenges. That’s good, because I only have a few things to do as Jarl. First, there are several villages lacking headmen and thegns. My first appointment as Jarl, is to name Gromm of Icehome a thegn for his courage, skill, and selfless actions. I would ask that you look after Girda as well, given the manner her father died. Second, Kalor. I don’t know if there are any other notable people in Seacrest, but if you want the job, you can have it, or you can organize a vote. Whatever, I leave it to you. Also, I’m sure that you’d do it anyways, but Fenrik’s young widow, make sure she is taken care of. I will help in any way that I can. I don’t know that any other villages lost their leaders, but if they have, we can figure that out later. Also, any wives, children, or otherwise dependent people of those who died fighting, I will see to their needs. That follows with what I have next.” I turned back to Kalor, but looked around the room quickly.
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“The Imperial Fort in Seacrest. I’ve already claimed it, my company is rebuilding it as we speak. I am officially stating here, that it is mine. If the Imperials want it back, they can come and take it. With that, I am also claiming the rights to mine and prospect for metals along the coast. I will be hiring men and ships for the job. Spread the word, there will be plenty of work in Seacrest by spring time, and I will see to it that every man that comes looking for a job will be fed, sheltered, and paid fairly, whether as a soldier in my company, or working the mines and ships. The wives and children I mentioned earlier are welcome as well. Now, most importantly—” Molnen stepped forwards.
“Sorry to interrupt, but what of Korir’s wife and son?” That was a good question.
“What belonged to her, is hers. I don’t want Korir’s money, I don’t want his horses, dogs, heirlooms, none of it. The matter of the Jarl’s longhouse though… It is her home, but it is also the seat of power in the Hold. She’ll need to find a new place to live, but I won’t put her out in the cold until she’s sure of a place for herself and their son.” That seemed to satisfy the people with rank to care.
“That is fair.” Thegn Bellin, the eldest man present, nodded. I gestured for him to join me.
“Now, finally, I said I did not want this position, these titles. I have more important things to see to as Stuhn’s Champion. I will not lie to you, hard times are coming. Even without the Stormcloaks and Imperials, there are grave dangers to Skyrim, and I intend to stop them. You guards here that don’t join my company, train hard, be ready, strong arms and sharp steel will be needed, and it will be the effort of everyone in Winterhold that saves you. Trust the Vigilants of Stendarr, the Dawnguard, and Stuhn’s Witnesses. We will fight for you, but you must fight for your self too. That being said, I cannot take the Jarl’s seat. Thegn Bellin, I name you as my interim successor, on the condition that a moot is held to elect a new Jarl, or confirm your position.” I held out the helm to him. A mixture of emotions shot through the old man, before setting on a determined expression.
“You honor me and my family, Champion.” Bellin bowed slightly before taking the helm.
“Thank your sons. I’ve seen them fight, they followed me without fear. They were ready to give their lives for their people, and you trusted them to show their capabilities when we cleared the barrow on the coast. Your village is one of the most successful in the Hold, you have years of experience, and Jorn would make a good Jarl if you win at the moot. I don’t know any other thegns I’d trust to take the position, Fenrik if he had survived, but he didn’t. I don’t know how long it would take for a moot to be convened, but that’s your problem now.” I smiled, and patted him on the shoulder.
“Ah, we’d need to wait a month at least, long enough to send messengers. Will you vote in the moot?” Bellin raised a fair point.
“I think… Only if there is a tie. I won’t speak for, or against any of the candidates either. I’d rather avoid a small civil war in the Hold that I just finished pulling out of the fire.” I just needed someone else to deal with all the bullshit of running a hold, without driving it into the ground.
“Sound reasoning. I should start my duties then. You men. Take Korir to be seen to by the priests.” Bellin didn’t waste time, a good sign. Two guards hefted the body off and out of the hall. It felt like they took the weight off of my shoulders with it. Everything I’d sworn to do when I arrived was done, finished. The bandits were dead, the necromancers shattered, and a better ruler for the Hold had been found. It hadn’t been easy.
“You’re a strange one Champion.” Grimvald found me sitting in the room that had been mine, picking over the two chests full of loot. I had a third one sitting in my quarters back at the castle too.
“Just noticed?” I closed the chests.
“No, but I can’t say that I’ve ever met a man who would just give away a Jarl’s title.” Grimvald took the chair across from me.
“I have very little use for it. My duties as a Champion are going to take me all over Skyrim for months at a time. The people here need a Jarl that can focus on them, and put the Hold above all else. I can’t do that for them, and I don’t want to either honestly. I’d really enjoy being able to relax in my new castle and spend all this gold on liquor and women.” I put my feet up on one of the chests, smirking at the reaction I’d gotten. Grimvald stopped laughing a while later.
“That’s certainly not what I expected of Stuhn’s chosen. I can’t say that I would do different in your place though.” Grimvald reined himself in.
“First chance we get, we’ll go on an adventure with black jack and hookers, promise.” I laughed. Grimvald looked a little confused. “Gambling and whores.”
“I’ll hold you to that Champion. What are your plans for the next few months? I know you’ve already started with the plans for mining and expanding the smithy in the keep, but where are your travels going to take you?” Grimvald had a curious expression.
“In the immediate future? Back to Seacrest. We’ll get things started there, train the new recruits that are sure to pour in at the promise of gold and glory. Once the roads are a bit less harsh, I’m going west to Dawnstar. We’ll hire foremen and miners to exploit the ore veins we find, and send them back to Seacrest, then it’s south to the Hall of the Vigilants. There’s now three orders of fighting men dedicated to Stuhn in Skyrim, and that means we’re wasting a lot of effort and manpower doing the same things. Keeper Carcette of the Vigilants is a very talented, very skilled mage, and her followers are more than just warriors, but they are very few in number. My goal is to get them to either join us in Winterhold, or take a stronger position in Whiterun Hold. There’s an abandoned fortification there, Greymoor.” I stretched back, thinking through my plan.
“They’re vulnerable in how they operate right now. They send one or two Vigilants to wander the land and cleanse it of evil. They’ve probably lost dozens of their order to bandit ambushes and wild animals because the fools were alone. We don’t have the time to train two hundred mages again, and if the Vigilants keep going how they are, almost all of them will be dead before the next winter. You’re one of the men I planned on taking with me, so I may as well tell you the whole story… Fuck, let me gather up everyone, time y’all learned the things I’ve been having visions of.” I’d already discussed most of it with Adalvald, the key points at least, ignoring the fact that in my visions it was the last dragonborn leading the fight. Still hadn’t told them about the dragons.
The guards had all left, aside from the few standing watch over the hall. Jorman had managed to get Thaena to calm down and go to sleep, so he joined us at the table. I sat to Bellin’s right, as he was the new Jarl. Everyone else was sat across from us.
“There’s some things I need to tell all of you, though you’ve all heard bits and pieces. The strange recollections I have of things, information that there is just no possible way I should know, regardless of who I was before I found my self in Winterhold. There’s one that I’ve kept close to my self, only Hania and Adalvald have heard it.” I looked to the knightly woman, she was all ears.
“We’ve encountered two vampires in the effort against the necromancers. The first was in the barrow near Frozen Wharf, the one that killed Fenrik. The second, we captured in Yngdaril. Being that Anglin removed the first one’s head, we didn’t get to question him, but we did end up with journals and tomes. Those proved that he was a member of Volkihar clan, they’re the most ancient vampires in Skyrim, that I know of. They’ve been around since the second era at least, before the Septim empire, before many of the holds we know today were properly founded. The second vampire is also a Volkihar. He hasn’t been very talkative, but he wears their mark. I intend to get the answers out of him one way or another, but their involvement has erased any doubts I had about my visions.” Bellin looked uncomfortably at Lodor, who seemed to be the only one to recognize the Volkihar name besides Hania.
“The Volkihars are led by a vampire named Lord Harkon. He pledged himself to the Daedric prince Molag Bal, and in return, was made into a pure breed, along with his entire family. He has a wife, Valerica, who has been missing for thousands of years. Harkon will never find her. His daughter however, Serana, has also been missing, and they are looking for her. Hania and Adalvald have been too, but they didn’t know her name, or where she is hidden, or the fact that she’s still alive… well, not alive, she’s a vampire, but you get the point. The reason that both Valerica and Serana have hidden themselves away is to prevent Lord Harkon from bringing about an apocalypse. He’s obsessed with a prophecy that one day vampires will snuff out the sun, and bring eternal darkness to Nirn, freeing them of the largest weakness they have. His wife and daughter are a bit smarter than he is though, and realize that won’t help vampires. They’ll die, either when the world rises up to smash them, or by starvation with everything else. Plants need the sun to grow. People and livestock eat plants, vampires eat people.” It was probably asking a bit too much of the Nords to listen to an in-depth description of photosynthesis, but everyone knew that plants need sunlight for some reason.
“That’s… And you know all this from visions?” Bellin had a note of disbelief in his voice. Hania answered.
“He’s been right about every single thing he told us, things that Adalvald and I have spent years collecting and piecing together. Nobody aside from the two of us, and Jori, would have known. Jori said he hadn’t spoken a word of it to Johannes. If I hadn’t seen what I have of Johannes, I wouldn’t believe him either, but he has been sent by Stuhn for a reason.” Hania backed me up.
“Thank you. Now the more pressing matter I’ve seen, is that someone is going to wake Serana from her hiding place. Adalvald dies there when he’s ambushed by vampires, the Vigilants are hunted down, nearly exterminated. My goal is to prevent that future from happening, before it has the chance to. Without Adalvald’s journals, the vampires have next to nothing in regards to fulfilling their prophecy, but Harkon sees the state of Skyrim, he knows that now is going to be his best chance to make a move for it. I don’t know if they’re already aware of Adalvald’s work, but if they are, we can’t waste any time. I want to head them off, get the Vigilants in order, unify a fighting force that can take the war directly to the Volkihars before they make a move. For that, I need soldiers, equipment, supplies, money, and every bit of help I can get.” I looked to the assembled notables. Bellin, Molnen, and Kalor all looked between each other. Molnen nodded first.
“I can help in some ways. We have the ruins of an old tower and wall in the village. It could be our west watch to your eastern position. The mountains aren’t an impassible barrier, but they are dangerous, and ill-suited for larger groups to pass through. We can at least host a garrison, feed and shelter some of them, be a safe refuge for patrols. The outlying families and those in the village itself, maybe sixty men could be pressed to service in an emergency, twelve full time.” Molnen offered, I’d take it.
“That’s generous. I’ll do what I can to help rebuild the fort there. I plan on turning Seacrest into a new industrial heart for the Hold with time. If you have any spare sons of smiths and carpenters, they’d be welcome, paid well. I’m going to use my money as a tool, just the same as a hammer. Gold and steel wins wars. Jarl Bellin, I’ll need ships too. A lot of them. I don’t expect your shipwrights to work for free, but if we can come to a deal…” Bellin raised his hands.
“You’ll have your ships. An investment now will pay in the future. I imagine they’ll be pressed into service as merchants first, moving your metal and workers, warships later?” Bellin smiled at the word warships.
“They will. The faster, and the more they can carry, the better.”
“I’ll give you raiders fit to sack a kingdom. Jorn, Lodor, you’d best brush up on your sea legs, the Champion will need Captains. I can have the first ship built by the spring, two more by the first days of Midyear, so long as you can get the iron and timber we need. They’ll carry fifty warriors each with empty holds, but you will need to wait for the ice to melt to get them out of our harbor, the ice will be thinnest near the end of Last Seed.” Bellin had a proud look, one that probably only came about with the thought of seafaring adventure.
“Midyear will be the soonest I could arm a hundred fifty men I think. By the seventeenth day of Last Seed, every Volkihar needs to be staked in the sunlight, total victory. Six months.” Six months till Alduin sacked Helgen, and the Last Dragonborn would be known. With luck, I’d be sitting in Riverwood with the last of the Emperor’s Blades on that day, Harkon would be ash, and his daughter would be lost to time, along with the Elder Scroll she carried.
“What happens on that day? Is that the day they complete the prophecy in your visions?” Hania seized on the scrap of information.
“No. That’s the day our hero emerges, and that hero does not need to be distracted by a bunch of fucking corpses trying to kill the sun. In the same vein, we do not need to be distracted by the things our hero is going to be busy with. If we don’t end the vampires by then, we’ll have much larger problems. Speaking of, Bellin, if Jarl Ulfric comes along demanding troops from Winterhold, don’t turn them over. You’ll understand when he comes begging for your reserves later. Also, there’s a certain pointy eared cocksucker I need to kill that might cause problems with the Thalmor, so don’t be surprised if a bunch of angry elves show up in a few weeks, maybe months.” That caused more questions, but I wasn’t ready to answer any of those yet. Our new Jarl had succinct words on the Thalmor subject.
“The elves can go fuck themselves. We’re sons of Ysgramor and servants of Talos, we beat them bloody twice, we’ll do it again.” I liked Bellin.