Chapter 51

“I swear, my Jarl, if I hadn’t been there to see it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it! As it is, I’m going to just have to write this all down, I’m sure that bards all over the realm are going to want to sing about the battle.”

“Yngvar, I know you’ve told me three times already. But still ... one woman?”

He began singing, showing that he truly was a bard with a good voice. “Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior’s heart. I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes. With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art. Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!” He took a drink of mead.

“It was spectacular. Her shield-maidens guarding her flanks, her sword flashing in the dim light, the Shouts resonating through the tunnels of the mine! I can feel the lyrics coming to me now, traitors to their Jarl falling at her feet, a civil war ended with the edge of a sword...”

“Damn you, Yngvar! I’m not in town to see this battle below the ground, and I’m jealous.”

“Kottir, you and I at one time thought Ulfric was our leader. He’s not worthy of cleaning the shit from the soles of her shoes if she walked through a cow pasture.”

I leaned forward in my chair. We were seated at the Jarl’s dining table. Thongvor, myself, Yngvar, Kottir, and ... Annekke. Several others were standing behind and around us. “Okay, the fight was two days ago. What have we accomplished since?”

Kottir looked at his list. “I’ve brought forty troops in town so far. We’re ready to retake Kolskeggr mine from the Forsworn at any time now, since the ... threat from Imperial troops no longer exists. That was very strange, by the way, having the Imperial supply sergeant come to our camp with a wagon load of supplies. After that, we’ll be able to retake the rest of the Reach, we’ll just have to coordinate our activities. A couple of my troops aren’t happy about the end to the war, but when I told them we’d get to break Forsworn heads, they were happy. Just brawlers, in the end.”

Annekke looked at her list as well. “The few survivors from the rebelling forces against Jarl Thongvor are mining again in Cidhna mine. The new Overseer says he should be back at full production within a week. The costs for the improvements to the living conditions for the smelter workers has been covered easily by the funds recovered by the guard commander. Even after his ... finder’s fee.” She smiled a little at that.

Thongvor looked grim. “To think that my own brother had stolen that much, for his own enrichment. When even a small tithe of that would have helped so many people here. I thank you for not being greedy.”

From behind him, the guard commander said, “My Jarl, it was an easy decision to make. After watching Her Highness cleave through the force inside the mine literally like a hot knife through butter, through men equipped like I was, with nary a scratch, I decided that living a long life required a certain ... honesty. And it was quite refreshing, to not have to look over my shoulder and wonder if someone would question me, I tell you.”

I looked over at Lydia. “I thought I got a few scratches in there, didn’t I?”

She smiled back at me. “You did. We took care of those that night, though.”

Thongvor kept going. “So what was the result, then? What was the cost to Markarth?”

“Twenty eight guards from both sides, mostly theirs, dead. Five injured, but expected to recover, with three of them having a date with the mines afterward. Ten citizens dead, most of which were actually Forsworn in disguise. All of the prisoners in the mine were killed either during the fighting or before it started, including Madanach. And your brother and his wife were also killed.” Annekke flipped pages.

“We lost three homes and one business to fire, but fortunately the way the city is built what happened to Riften could never happen here. So only the contents were destroyed, the buildings themselves just need cleaned up. To that, the Temple of Dibella has pledged half a dozen women as workers to help with the cleanup. Which means we’ll probably see lots of volunteers as well, of course. And the net result so far is that the city treasury has grown by just over a hundred thousand gold.”

“Wait, what?” Thongvor sounded puzzled. “Homes and businesses were destroyed, and the treasury got fatter?”

“Yes, Jarl Thongvor. I found where Reburrus had hidden his ... stash ... here in the keep. And of course, anything that Nepos the Nose had was forfeit to you as well.”

He blinked in astonishment. “Very well. Assign half of that to the rebuilding effort, that should more than pay for everything so my citizens don’t suffer any losses.” He looked at me. “I presume you’ll want some of that for a reward for what you’ve done?”

I was puzzled. “Why? It’s just gold. I have plenty. In fact, until I heard what the final tally was, I was going to pledge some of what I have to help your people out ... since they’re also my people as well.”

“Ah, that you’ve already done.” He looked around the table, nodding as he met the eyes of everyone but me. Then he looked back at me. “One thing. Your Annekke has been most helpful to me. I need a steward since the position is vacant.”

“She is her own woman, Jarl.” I said.

“Oh, bullshit. I’m as pledged to you as much as Lydia and Jordris are. But ... I would stay here, with Thongvor, as his steward, if you will allow it. And I can provide support for Sky Haven Temple and the Chantry from here as well.”

“So be it, then. You might mention to the Jarl at some point that his realm includes the training center for the bodyguards of the Empress, and it is not subject to his rule.”

“I can live with that, my Queen. And here, you’ll be wanting these as well.” With that, he stood up. I took my cue from his words and remained seated even though everyone else rose. He walked to my end of the table, and went to one knee. “Markarth and the Reach pledge themselves to you, Queen Martina Grizé.”

Three days later my companions and I found ourselves on the outskirts of Dawnstar. “You seem quite familiar with this town,” Jordris said.

“Uh, yes. Come, let us get something to eat before we have to see the Jarl.”

We went in to get warm and eat. After taking our order, the waitress said, “Lucky you’re just passing through. Nightmares don’t seem to bother visitors.” Upon her return with our food, she also had a priest of Mara in tow. “Come on, Erandur, tell these folk. Maybe they can help.”

“My apologies, travelers. Karita thinks that everyone who comes through can help. But I’m just a simple priest of Mara, and with a Daedric Lord involved, no one can help.”

“I know there’s a plot of Mehrunes Dagon going on, and I’m working on taking care of that. What other trouble is the Prince of Destruction causing?” I asked.

The Dunmer priest sounded startled. “Mehrunes Dagon? Oh, you mean that stupid museum that Silus has built? No, Karita was referring to the horrible nightmares that plague the whole town. They’re manifestations created by the Daedric Lord Vaermina, from her strange realm of Quagmire. She has an awful hunger for our memories. In return, she leaves behind nightmares, not unlike a cough marking a serious illness.”

Serana coughed on her drink. When she regained her breath, she said, “Another Daedric plot? Two in one city, no less. How could we get so lucky?”

“I’m sure that luck has nothing to do with it.” I sighed. “One of these days I’ll be so happy to be done with these plots within plots. In any event, I’m going to make a guess here that at some point in your life, since you do happen to be Dunmer, you happened to be a worshiper of Vaermina before figuring out that following a Daedric Lord is not always a good choice and became a priest of Mara.”

In a hushed voice, Erandur said, “Keep your voice down if you’re going to spout things out like that, traveler. You’re obviously aware that many from Morrowind don’t worship the Eight. We can change, though.” He took a drink of his wine. “Especially if you have a life changing experience.”

“Nine, and we have the time, we just sat down for a meal. Regale us with this tale.”

“Will you assist me in helping the people of Dawnstar if it’s possible to do so?”

“Brother Erandur, the people of Dawnstar are also my people, so of course I’ll help. And quit rolling your eyes, Lydia. You know as well as I that obviously my mother set up this little meeting this evening. One thing, Erandur. How far will we have to travel? I have a bit of a time constraint.”

“Your mother? Oh, never mind. In any event, it’s just up the mountain from here, in what used to be called the Tower of the Dawn, but became Nightcaller Temple when, well, some worshipers of Vaermina moved in. The priests were seldom seen in town, they preferred seclusion. Years ago, the temple was raided by an orc war party. They were plagued by nightmares just like the people of Dawnstar.” He took another drink.

“The priests knew they could never win, so they released what they called The Miasma, putting everyone to sleep. That ended up sealing the Temple and the Skull of Corruption inside, making it impossible to get in or out through a magical barrier. Unfortunately, Vaermina is able to use her Skull on the people who live here regardless of whether the barrier exists or not. And even if we could get through the barrier, well, long term exposure to the Miasma is dangerous, and can drive people mad. It was only intended for short term use, to help with deep sleep.”

“Remarkable amount of knowledge for a priest of Mara, I think.” I smiled.

“Yes, well, I am paying my penance, after all. I must stay here, endure the nightmares, until I can finally gain help in breaching the magical barrier, and ... redeem myself.”

“I’m glad that was a filling dinner. I hate going out on an empty stomach.” I got up, my ladies as well. Erandur looked at me in amazement. “Come on, I said I’m on a time constraint. Let’s go to this Temple and fix things.” He wordlessly arose and followed.

The next afternoon we were walking back down towards town. Erandur looked at me with gratitude. “Thank you for not killing me in there. Vaermina allowed me to hear what she was telling you while I was performing the ceremony to destroy the Skull. I have to admit, I ... I was scared.”

“Some people might be tempted by certain Daedric artifacts of power. Don’t get me wrong, something simple like Volendrung, it’s a serious war hammer, and no offense to Malacath, it’s still just a war hammer with a Daedric enchantment on it. Dawnbreaker is a great sword to use fighting undead, and again, no offense to Meridia, it’s still just a sword. Now the Wabbajack ... that’s something best kept under lock and key.”

“Wait, you own several Daedric artifacts?”

Lydia laughed at hearing that. “Why, of course she does. Erandur, you have no idea who just helped you in there, do you?”

He walked a few steps, thinking. “You know, we never were formally introduced.”

“Ah, well, Erandur, priest of Mara, formerly known as Casimir, priest of Vaermina, I am Lydia, housecarl to the Thane of Whiterun. This is Jordris, housecarl to the Thane of Solitude. This is Lady Serana, formerly of the Volkihar vampire clan but now human, and like Jordris and I, pledged in service and love to Martina Grizé, the Dragonborn, Ysmir, Dragon of the North, the Thane of Whiterun, Solitude, and Markarth, the Jarl Consort of Solitude, the High Queen of Skyrim, and Septim Empress of Tamriel.”

I raised my left hand a bit. “That would be me. I think I have too many titles.”

Serana giggled a little at that. “My sweets, you know you’re going to gain more.”

“High Queen of Skyrim?” Erandur had stopped walking. “Empress of Tamriel? Ladies, I know that you’re all fierce in combat, I just witnessed that, but please, I’m just a simple priest of Mara now. No need for such jests.”

“Tell me, simple priest of Mara. What are your thoughts about the Jarl of Dawnstar?”

He began walking with us again. “All right, I’ll play along. Jarl Skald the Elder is ... well, loyal to Ulfric is an understatement. He was Jarl here before I ... well, you know. So it’s been more than three decades he’s been in power. I’d like to say that his views are the popular ones here, but ... they’re not.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a lot unsaid in that simple comment. Let’s just say that most people here aren’t as rabid supporters as he is. And since I can tell you’d ask, his biggest issue is with a woman, a retired Legate. Brina Merilis is her name. Oh, that’s her up ahead, now, just outside the White Hall. What’s Skald up to now?”

Erandur got quiet as we approached the Jarl’s longhouse. An older woman in finery with an older man in Legion armor were standing on the pathway. Another old man, this one wearing the robes of a Jarl, was on the steps above them, shouting at them.

“Divines sake, Skald. Who do you think we’re threatening with our old war wounds? We’re not soldiers anymore,” the woman said.

The Jarl yelled out, “Your man Horik is wearing his old Legion armor! What should I make of that?”
“He’s proud of his service, Skald. The Legion taught us all loyalty. And we’re loyal to Dawnstar.”

“Bah! This isn’t over. I catch you sending one letter to General Tullius, I’ll have you both executed!” He started to turn around to enter his hall.

My only excuse is that I was tired. “That would be impossible for her to do unless she’s got a way to send letters to Shor’s Hall.”

All three of them stopped and looked at me. Brina spoke first. “Really? That old war horse is dead? What happened?”

From the steps above, the Jarl said, “Ah, I’m sure that Ulfric had a hand in it. That’s got to be the sign we’ve been waiting for, that the battle against the filthy Empire is going our way now!”

“No, actually Markarth recently swore allegiance to the High Queen of Skyrim as well. The forces there are joining the command of General Rikke to go against the true enemies of the Nords, the Aldmeri Dominion.”

“High Queen? What nonsense is this? Skyrim will not bow to a false king or queen. Ulfric is the true king. The Stormcloaks are destined to win this fight. Talos is with us, and when you fight under a Divine’s blessing, victory is assured,” Skald said. “And what do you mean about Markarth? Thongvor Silver-blood is a true Stormcloak! More Imperial lies!”

“Well, you’re right about one thing. When you fight under a Divine’s blessing, it does seem that victory is on your side. There’s just an awful lot of unnecessary bloodshed in the meantime achieving that victory. Oh, and it’s not nonsense. On the contrary, Jarl Skald the Elder, it’s reality.”

Several more residents of Dawnstar came up and watched, fascinated as I argued with the Jarl. The door opened and a middle-aged woman wearing the robes of a mage walked out. “Ah, there you are. Skald, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a leave of absence. I wish to return to High Rock until this war is over.”

“You wish to leave now? In Skyrim’s moment of triumph, just before we cast off the yoke of Imperial rule?” Now the Jarl was livid with anger.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking. I’m not a Nord, I’m a Breton, and I have no wish to fight this war.”

“I don’t think so, Madena. There will be no deserters from this hold, and that’s final!” He turned back to me. “Now, you, Imperial outsider, who are you to be making such wild and incredibly ignorant claims?”

“Ah, excellent. The court wizard. Please, use your spells, to determine that what I am going to tell your Jarl, no matter how upsetting it will be to him, is the truth.”

She looked startled. “When I came here, my only duties were to cure crop diseases and occasionally light a bonfire. I know it upsets Skald that I won’t fight, but ... telling the truth, huh? That’s an unusual request, but I can do that.”

“Thank you.” I raised my voice so all could hear. “First, I have some good news. The source of the nightmares that have been plaguing this town is no more. We were able to assist the priest of Mara, Erandur, in destroying the Skull of Corruption.”

There were several murmurs through the growing crowd at that pronouncement. More so when Erandur said, “More like you and your ladies did everything, simply so I could get to the Skull. So all thanks and credit goes to you.”

Skald said, “See, you said that the Divines would cure us. This is a sign that the Empire is doomed, I tell you!”

“Ah, yes, the Divines. In that respect, you are correct, Jarl. The Divines are involved, both the Aedra and the Daedra. The civil war between the Stormcloaks and Imperials is over. A majority of the holds have pledged their allegiance to the wearer of the Jagged Crown, the High Queen of Skyrim. In conjunction the Empress of Tamriel has declared the White Gold Concordat to be null and void.”

“No, no, no! I won’t have it ... what...” Skald reached for his chest, then fell to the ground, dead before he hit the ground.

From out of the crowd, a middle-aged man came running up. “My Jarl! Oh, my Jarl! I told you and I told you, watch your temper. Would you listen to me? No, I was just a servant. My family have served the rulers of the Pale for generations. What do we know?”