“...ster?” General Tullius said, finally finishing his question.
Simon took a deep breath and replied. “Helgen is about to be attacked by a dragon.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. A Redguard woman in heavy imperial armour pointed at him with a sword that appeared from nowhere in her hand. Simon recognised her as the Imperial Captain from the game’s opening.
“How dare you mock the general?” she demanded with a scowl.
“Hold, Captain Chadarti,” Tullius said, turning his head towards her before returning to staring at Simon. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that we’ll be attacked by a dragon, do you?”
It took Simon a few seconds to register the question. He was too busy staring at Captain Chadarti’s sword. It had appeared from nothing. Were inventories a thing in this world? Did everyone have them? Is that what pocketry was for? He shook his head slightly and refocused on the task at hand. There would be time for questions later.
“Believe? No,” Simon said. “But, in a minute or two it won’t be a matter of belief.”
General Tullius snorted, an annoyed look on his face. “This is ab…”
A deafening roar rumbled through the city. Simon could feel it shaking his bones. Seconds later, a black dragon the size of a small house landed on one of the towers at the courtyard’s edge.
The change was immediate. The general snapped around to the dragon, a longbow as thick as Simon’s wrist appearing in his hands as he barked orders.
“Wide formation. Melee guard ranged. Fire at will. Emergency report protocol.”
The Imperial soldiers spread out through the courtyard, swords, bows, arrows and the glow of magic appearing in their hands. Tullius began rapidly firing arrows which pinged off Alduin’s head without seeming to do any damage. Whether that was because of the dragon’s Health protecting it or its natural resilience was something Simon would have to figure out later.
As the other archers and a handful of mages began firing on the dragon as well, the mob of Stormcloaks ran for the closest street out from the courtyard. In the game, Simon would have followed them. Unfortunately, he didn’t imagine that they would be inclined to help him after he got Ulfric killed.
Simon quickly scanned the courtyard for one particular Imperial. The character from the game’s tutorial who guided the player through the start of the game, if they didn’t choose Ralof.
He spotted the red-haired Nord running for one of the alleys around the edge of the courtyard. Simon took off after him at the best sprint he could manage with his arms tied up.
He felt a wave of heat at his back as he entered the alley, the roar of dragon fire drowning the shouts of the Imperial soldier. He kept running and didn’t look back.
He didn’t have time to wonder why Hadvar was running away, or why no one was stopping him. It took everything he had just to keep up. The fleeing Imperial was incredibly fast. The only thing that gave him a chance was his pool of 100 Stamina.
He could feel a sensation of something in his gut draining at a worryingly fast pace as he sprinted full-tilt down the alley and along the street to which it connected. Thankfully, Hadvar didn’t go too far, stopping at the door to a squat building made from torso-sized blocks of stone.
Simon’s Stamina ran dry just as he closed in on the door. It took all of his focus not to keel over as his legs and chest rapidly began to burn from his breakneck pace. He did just enough exercise on Earth to stay healthy but that was it.
He all but threw himself through the door as Hadvar began to close it, collapsing to the ground as his legs finally gave out. He felt a second pool, sitting over his heart, deplete slightly as he slammed face first into the floor, unable to catch himself due to his bound arms.
“What are you two here for?” Hadvar asked after the sound of the door slamming.
Two?
“Don’t know,” came the voice of the wood elf, “I was just following this weakling.”
The probable dragonborn was with them. That was handy.
Simon levered himself over, panting as he slowly got his breath back. He could feel his Stamina slowly trying to recover but it was draining far faster to combat his exertion.
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“Had to follow Hadvar to the armoury… so that we can escape through the tunnels,” he gasped out. That got the Imperial’s attention.
“How do you know about that? And how do you know my name?”
Simon forced himself to take several long, slow breaths, his heart finally getting the message to calm down. He thought about what approach to take as he did. His decision was made by the simple fact that he was a terrible liar. That and the hope that Hadvar was the same decent person from the game.
“I know, because I’m the champion of the gods, summoned from another reality to save Mundus.” Simon sat up as he spoke, locking eyes with the stunned soldier.
“Gods,” the elf muttered, “you aren’t lying.”
Simon frowned over at her. He’d been expecting a bit more resistance in that regard. “How can you know that?”
She blanched, seeming caught out. “Speech,” she shrugged.
He stared at her for a moment before looking away. He couldn’t afford to push too hard and scare her off. He’d need her to fight Alduin.
“Look,” he said to Hadvar, “right now I’m basically useless, but if you help me get out of here alive, I’ll be able to shred that dragon to pieces after a month or two.”
Hadvar grimaced and ran a hand over his face. “Ok,” he said, “here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to cut you loose and you’ll take some gear from the armoury. You,” he pointed at the elf who, unlike the still knackered Simon, seemed completely fresh, “will help me fight any hostiles and you,” he pointed at Simon, “will hide and try not to die. If either of you slow me down, I’ll leave you behind. I need to get out so that someone can report what happened here.”
Hiding… Now there was an idea. The Sneak skill was incredibly easy to level up. The normal grinding tactic was to use melee sneak attacks, since they gave 30 XP per attack, but Simon didn’t see any sneak attacks in his near future.
However, Sneak’s other XP source was 0.65 XP per NPC within 45 feet per second while hidden. If he could keep out of sight round a corner, assuming that the two Stormcloaks from the game were there in this world, just one minute would net him 78 XP. Once that was modified by Sneak’s skill use multiplier of 11.25 it would become 877.5 XP.
From level 0, that was enough to get him 6 skill levels, the 6% bonuses to Body and Mind which came with them, though he wouldn’t get any Stamina until level 11. If the fight somehow lasted 8 minutes, he could get to skill level 30 and unlock the next perk.
“Hey! Dumbass of the gods, get up.” The voice of the wood elf jolted him from his thoughts. He looked over to see Havar and the elf staring at him. The soldier had already cut her arms free and she stretched them out as she sneered at him.
“Sorry,” he said, awkwardly clambering to his feet and moving over so that Hadvar could cut him free.
“I was distracted by maths. How useful is level 3 sneak?” he asked while Havdar sliced through his ropes, lowballing a little, “I should be able to get that in the first fight.”
They both looked at him like he’d grown a second head.
“What fight?” asked Hadvar
“3 levels in one fight?” the elf asked at almost the exact same time.
Simon jerked his hands down, severing the last strands of rope that had been left as Hadvar’s dagger froze from surprise.
“I can’t be sure, but there might be two Stormcloaks waiting in the next room,” he said, pointing at Hadvar with his newly freed hand. He turned to the elf. “And if there is a fight, then yes, I can get 3 levels in one fight. More if it’s a long fight.”
The stunned silence that followed was cut short by a thunderous crash from outside. Hadvar snapped into action, an Imperial shortsword appearing in one hand and a large, square shield appearing in the other.
“Gear, now,” he said. He looked at Simon. “Do you know how to use your Pocket?”
“Nope,” Simon answered as the elf walked over to the shelves of weapons and armour that filled the room. An instant later, she was dressed in full leather armour and holding two shortswords.
Hadvar nodded and explained in a clipped tone. “Touch the armour and weapons that you want, focus on the feeling of your palm and imagine pushing outward. Concentrate on wearing the armour and holding the weapon in your dominant hand. If you have trouble, forget about it. We don’t have time.”
Simon walked up to a conjoined set of leather chestplate and thigh armour. They seemed to be made without any openings or straps. He could only assume that they weren’t meant to be worn normally. The other thing that he noticed was that every set of armour was the same size.
He put his hand on it and imagined pushing out through his palm as instructed. As he did, he felt a space, not inside him but… beyond him. He imagined wearing the armour and a sense of pressure filled his mind. He kept pushing. After a few seconds, the not quite headache vanished and the armour appeared over the top of his rags.
He could feel it sat inside his… Pocket, despite the fact that he was also wearing it. The armour had clearly resized itself when he equipped it. It fit him perfectly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but was far better than he had expected.
He repeated the process with a helmet, greaves, bracers and a shortsword before moving to join Hadvar and the elf by the room’s other door. The elf had one ear pressed up against it. She stepped back as Simon joined them.
“There’s definitely someone through there,” she said.
Hadvar nodded. “We go in ready to fight. Hopefully they're ours, but we can’t risk assuming. First though, If we’re going to fight together, names. I’m Hadvar of Riverwood.”
“Simon Cartwright of Earth,” Simon said, waving with his swordless hand.
They both turned to the elf. Her eyes flicked back and forth between them for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and spoke. “Larenia Nightshade of Skyrim.”
“Fake name?” asked Hadvar.
“Not fake,” Larenia replied with finality. “Just new.”
The soldier shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said and turned to the door, equipping his shield. “Opening on three.”
Simon moved a metre or so along from the door and pressed himself against the wall. Hopefully no one would notice him.
“One, two, three.”