The Dragonborn Comes - Chapter 5

Chapter 5


"You said you had a sister in Whiterun, didn't you?"

Torsten's eyes were pulled from the city of Whiterun's walls, shaken from his reverie. They were close enough now to pick out the individual stones making up the barrier. It wasn't a particularly high wall, but the size of the city it encircled was undeniably impressive.

"Yes, I did," was his only reply.

The Sinyail waited for more to come, frowning lightly as he realized that was all he would get without further questioning. "Will we be seeing her while we're here? I wouldn't want to impose, you understand, I simply have so few contacts in Skyrim-"

"I don't expect to, we aren't exactly on speaking terms," Torsten cut him off. "Besides, she'd be useless as a political ally. No influence outside of her own manor."

"You misjudge me!" The elf gasped. "I just love meeting new people! And I've told you I have no taste for politics."

The bigger man simply grunted and shrugged, and the two fell into silence as they began climbing the slope up to the city. Whiterun was perched on a large hill or small mountain, like an island in the seemingly endless sea of the rolling plains of the Hold, the great hall of Dragonsreach standing tall like a beacon on top. That was where the guards directed them to; the Jarl's court was starving for any sort of news regarding the dragon attack.

Sinyail found himself impressed with the city. He had never visited any of Skyrim's great cities before, and had always written them off as hives or squalor and barbarism. However, here he was amazed at how… clean the city was. The spring water funneling through small canals was likely to thank for that. He also took a moment to appreciate the carved woodwork decorating the various buildings he passed, no two alike, growing in beauty and complexity as they travelled higher into the wealthier parts of the city. He would have loved to stop and more closely examine the architectural artwork but his companion agitatedly urged him on. Likely worried of spotting this mysterious sister of his in the crowded market, the elf thought.

Finding the keep was easy enough, they simply had to keep moving uphill. Before long they climbing the steps to the great hall itself, all of Whiterun stretched out around them. The companions were stopped at the great, carved door of Dragonsreach.

"Halt!" the guard held out her hand, "State your business, Dragonsreach is not receiving visitors."

She was not the guard that either of the pair would have expected. Her armor was a fine mesh of chain and leather, comparatively light and flexible, with the yellow scarf of Whiterun wrapped around her shoulders, finely embroidered to signifying some importance in the court. Her ash-grey hand rested on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw if needs be, and her merrish face was decorated with old Dunmeri clan tattoos that seemed to spring out of her red eyes like flames – or perhaps tears.

Torsten cleared his throat, straightening before the Dark Elf. "We bring news of the dragon attack on Helgen, as well as Riverwood's call for aid."

The guardswoman's eyes widened slightly, her stance softening. "Come in then, the Jarl will want to speak with you immediately."

It was far from the grandest structure Sinyail had ever been in – he had been raised in the Adamantine Tower, after all – but he couldn't help but look around wide-eyed as he entered the great hall. The ceiling seemed to tower high above him, supported by great wooden pillars, every inch carved and engraved beautifully. They climbed a small stair, taking them to a roaring fire and a set of long tables, covered with the finest meats, cheeses, wines, and mead. Far in the back, sitting on a grand throne beneath the ancient skull of a dragon, sat the Jarl of Whiterun.

Jarl Balgruuf was tall, even for a Nord. Had he been standing, he would have been the same height as the High Elf. His long blonde hair was finely braided, falling to his shoulders beneath a well-crafted circlet acting as a crown. A long, thick goatee grew out from his chin, also braided. His tunic was dyed in expensive reds and blues, embroidered with flowing knotwork and with a great furry collar, leaving his muscular arms bare. He turned from his steward, a short, plump Imperial, and focused his keen eyes on the approaching trio.

"Who are these, Irileth?" he asked his housecarl.

Torsten stepped forward to introduce himself, having some knowledge of court etiquette. "Torsten, son of Torsten, of clan Wolfhelm." He gave a small bow, then gestured to his companion. "And Sinyail, of Clan Direnni. We came to bring you the news from Helgen."

The Jarl leaned forward in his seat, instantly interested. "Are the rumors true?" he asked in an almost hushed voice. "Was it really attacked by a dragon?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid so, my lord. We've prepared report of all the details, if you like."

Sinyail stepped forward, pulling a few papers out of his bag. He had written the document on the way, and was rather proud of the hasty report. He had even managed to draw a few pictures of the dragon. He handed them to Irileth, who ferried them over to Balgruuf and his Steward.

The two men spent a moment looking over the document. "Still think it was a Stormcloak attack, Proventus?"

The Imperial sighed heavily. "This is all new information, Balgruuf. You can't expect me to give advice on rumor and heresay… But this report does change things, indeed."

"There is more," Torsten said, "Rierwood calls for your aid."

Irileth nodded. "If a dragon is lurking in those mountains, the village is completely vulnerable. We should send some troops at once."

Proventus shook his head. "The Jarl of Falkreath may see that as a provocation, young Siddgeir could think we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him! We should-"

"Enough!" The Jarl cut off his steward sharply. "I will not stand idly by as a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" He turned to his Housecarl. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once. Proventus is right though, we don't want to provoke Falkreath's little lordling. Keep it small, and tell them they are to assist in evacuating the town should the dragon threaten the town."

Irileth nodded and left. Proventus turned to leave as well. "If that is all, my lord, I will return to my duties."

Balgruuf thanked his steward and dismissed him, turning his attention back to Torsten and Sinyail. "You have my thanks for bringing this to my attention, both of you."

The pair nodded. The elf raised his hand and said "if it is not too much trouble, my lord, I would like to see your court wizard. I had business with him before this whole Helgen affair, and recent developments have proven to be relevant."

The Jarl nodded and stood. "This way. You may wish to come too, kinsman. If you would do me the honor, I think you could assist me further."

Torsten thought for a moment. While he had no desire to be the Jarl's errand boy, it never hurt to have friends in high places – especially when they paid him and kept his belly full. He followed them to the court wizard, a thin, wafer of a Nord named Farengar. He was quite happy to see Sinyail, and the two immediately fell into discussion about the dragons.

"You'll never believe what I found in Solstheim," the elf began, "When I dug beneath the tribal animism that has dominated the island for centuries, I found ruins of the old dragon cult. Utterly fascinating!"

"Intriguing, I never thought the cult extended that far …" the wizard thought out loud.

Balgruuf cleared his throat. "Farengar, I want you to know that this dragon research of yours is a top priority now. With the attack on Helgen confirmed, we need to know everything we can about these beasts."

"Of course, Jarl Balgruuf," he scratched his chin. "There is something, an item, that I've been needing. If I could hire a few men to go retrieve it…?"

"I have just the man for the job," the Jarl smiled and patted Torsten on the shoulder. "If he's from the clan Wolfhelm I know, then he should be more than enough to claim any old relic you need."

Torsten's nose twitched at the mention of his family name. He had hoped it would be beneath the Jarl's notice, but he took the high opinion of his skills as a compliment. The wizard looked him up and nodded. "Very good. Sinyail, would you mind going with him? You know what I'm looking for."

"Of course," the Altmer smiled and turned to his companion. "It seems you won't be rid of me quite yet."