IdeasGuy
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Power Corrupts: Next Stop (ch. 56)
🕑 Added 2020-11-21 16:03:30 +0000 UTCWe ended up spending the night in Riften, despite me wanting to go ahead and hit the road. Now that our mutual problem was postponed until the Moot in a few months, staying in the same city as Ulfric Stormcloak seemed like an unwise idea. Regardless of the fact that we weren’t enemies, even if we weren’t friends either. It was mostly because I wanted to make sure it stayed that way and I didn’t say something that would bring the neutrality that my familia had to an end.
It was that, and the fact that just leaving would reflect poorly on me and Hestia. That, and the reward that I knew was coming my way.
At the crack of dawn, as everyone else was getting up after a night of sleep, a knock came from the door. I was expecting it, so I answered it. Standing on the other side of the door was a Stormcloak dressed in armor. “Jarl Ulfric requests your presence as soon as you are able,” he informed, and I nodded before closing the door.
Turning around, I saw the interior of the Bees and Barb, the tavern that Farkas and Aela had been staying at. Each of them were in their rooms, probably still sleeping away. I had tried, but I hadn’t been able to sleep. Too much on my mind, and I broke the habit of needing sleep. Part of me wanted to go ahead and wake them all up, but I didn’t want to appear that I would jump when Ulfric said to jump.
The sound had apparently been heard by another because I heard footsteps behind me. Keerava stood on the stairs, looking like she was caught out since she did expect to see me. I quickly offered an explanation, "Stormcloaks came to tell me that Ulfric wants to see me. Sorry if it woke you up."
Keerava offered a hesitant shake of her head, "It's fine. I usually get up at this time anyway. Can I get anything started for you, Thane Jericho?" She asked, finishing walking down the stairs.
My first instinct was just to say nothing, but then that would mean I would be sitting in silence for a while until the others woke up. Which shouldn't be long, but I was going to be dealing with enough awkwardness soon enough. "Breakfast?" I tried, and she gave a nod. Apparently, she knew what I wanted because she jumped into the back and started cooking while I found a wall to lean on since none of the chairs would hold me.
"What happened yesterday," I started, breaking the silence. "Does that happen often?" I asked with a frown in my voice. Was that just a one-off drunk or was it something that plagued her? While elves were the traditional targets for Stormcloak policies, they considered every race that wasn't a Nord to be an outsider. And as far as I could tell, she and her husband were the only two Argonians in the city or anyone that wasn't a Nord.
Or they were just making themselves scarce since Ulfric himself was here, but that was a problem in itself.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Thane Jericho," Keerava dismissed as she cooked what smelled like eggs and ham. "It's nothing that I can't handle. A bit of drink gets in them, they'll shout and bluster, but they know better than to try anything. My ale is the only thing that lot can afford. Though, that may change with Black-Briar dead."
"But does it happen often?" I repeated. "Things are changing in the city. It won't be long before Ulfric aims for the throne-"
Keerava looked at me sharply at that, "Are you certain that he will?" She questioned, "Has he said anything?"
"I know he will," I answered her. "I don't think it'll be that long until he does it either. And since this is a Stormcloak city, I'm worried that Ulfric's policies become law. And words become actions." This wasn't how I imagined myself spending my morning, but it was something that had been on my mind.
The Stormcloak policies were simple -- Skyrim is for the Nords, fuck the Empire, and double-fuck the Thalmor. That first one caused me some worry. Trying to solve racism wasn't an issue I could handle, but I was an American, and each year we had a month dedicated to Black history -- what they accomplished despite the shit white people put them through every step of the way. And it was mountains and oceans of shit. So, leaving the situation alone rubbed me the wrong way. Especially when violence was very much in the cards.
Keerava paused as she cooked. "More often than I care for," she admitted as she played everything up. And it was then that I saw that she assumed that my appetite was proportionate to my size. "But don't let it worry you none, my Thane."
I accepted the meal, and the proto-fork to eat it with, wondering how to approach the topic subtly. Then realized there wasn't a casual way to bring it up because this wasn't in any way a casual topic. "If you were able to move -- to take the tavern elsewhere, would you?" I asked and the question seemed to catch her off guard.
"I… I don't know where we would go," Keerava admitted. So she did want to leave.
"Helgen is probably your best bet. Hestia is rebuilding the city, and she'll be the most pissed if something like this happened in her city," I told her. I wasn't very good at reading Argonian facial features, but Keerava seemed pensive.
"Divine Hestia? I… find it hard to believe that a Divine would take notice of someone like me," Keerava hedged, sounding like she found the offer too good to be true.
To that, I could only shrug. "I met Hestia at a food stand selling potato puffs -- if you're thinking of some holier than thou goddess, you need to think the exact opposite extreme. Down to earth, humble, and cares too damn much about everyone." I dug my fork in and met her disbelieving gaze. "If Hestia were here, she'd drag you to Helgen and build you a new tavern there herself."
An exaggeration, but a slight one. Hestia would make me build the tavern.
"I… I could sell the tavern. We've had plenty of offers, but…" Keerava muttered, "Most came from Maven. Didn't like competitors in her city, but she never bothered to burn the place down because we purchased from her."
In response to that, I reached into my inventory and pulled out a small chest filled with gold. "Then I'll buy the place. Just… head to Helgen, and Hestia will take care of you, okay?" It felt a little heavy-handed, but Keerava didn't argue. She simply stared at the trunk of gold. "And the offer is non-negotiable," I added, knowing that I had overpaid but they would need the money.
It's what Hestia would want.
"Thank you," Keerava said, earning a mod from me.
"Just take care of yourselves. Maybe wait until Ulfric is out of the city, or travel in a group," I advised as I stood up, my plate of food clean. She nodded, "Then I'll see you at Helgen."
…
The palace looked much the same as it had the last times that I saw it. Though, there were more people running about. More guards, servants, and the like. They bowed respectfully when I approached the doors to the palace. Apparently, I had come at the right time. The doors were pushed open for me, revealing the interior of the palace and while the exterior hadn't changed much, the interior certainly had.
It looked like they were in the middle of preparing for a celebration. I didn't see Ulfric anywhere, but Jarl Laila sat on the throne and she looked thoroughly blitzed. Her head rolled to the side, drool dripping from her parted lips as she slept, a tankard in one hand that looked like it had poured its contents over her boots. It seemed like she was still hitting the bottle hard.
"You must be Jericho Thrice Thaned," a voice greeted me as I stepped through the doors. Looking to my left, I saw it was a man wearing fine clothing with an axe at his belt. He held out a hand, "I am Harrald. I wanted to thank you for rescuing my mother from those sewer rats," Harrald said as I engulfed his forearm with my hand.
"Just doing what needed to be done," I dismissed, sparing a glance at the drooling woman. Something that Harrald didn't miss.
"She has taken the death of Maven Black-Briar rather hard. They were good friends since childhood," Harrald explained, trying to cover for her. I guess he didn't know that I knew she's spent the past week in a state of blackout drunk, and Maven's death was just another excuse.
I just nodded, not wanting to correct the guy. He seemed to be in his late twenties to early thirties, but there wasn't an age limit when it came to being a Mama's boy.
"Jarl Ulfric tasked me to bring you to him," Harrald said with obvious pride. A different reaction than mine when getting ordered around by the man. I just nodded again, wondering if I should have brought the others, but the invitation had been for me alone. Following him down a hallway and up some stone stairs, Harrald took me to a room with a thick wooden door. He knocked, and once he got the go-ahead to enter, the door swung open to reveal three men.
Two of which I recognized. Ulfric and Galmar. And based on how the unfamiliar man looked like Harrald, I'm guessing they were brothers.
The two sons of Jarl Laila. Though, I didn't know who supported-
None of the men in the room looked happy, "Ah, my brother and Jarl -- you're just in time, I was just telling Ulfric Stormcloak what a power-hungry pisspot he is and how the world is better off if he was a head shorter." Saerlund greeted, throwing on a wide smile.
Okay. That made things easy enough to guess.
"Brother- you speak treason!" Harrald snapped, striding into the room to grab a fist full of Saerlund’s shirt to snarl into his face.
“There’s no need for that,” Ulfric said, and Harrald let go of his brother as if he had been burned. “I am no king and disrespect isn’t worth spilling blood over. Especially between family,” he continued, looking between the brothers as he leaned over a table that was covered with a map. His gaze landed on me, and he offered a shallow nod.
“I’ll cut to the chase since we are both busy men -- have you been contacted by Nocturnal since she left?” Ulfric questioned while I leaned against a wall with my arms crossed.
I shook my head, “No, I haven’t. I thought she might pop up in the middle of the night, but she never showed. From what I know of her, she’s the type to avoid the spotlight. She’ll probably go to ground until the Moot.” To that, Ulfric nodded, seeming like he already expected that answer.
“And her familia’s combat abilities?” He asked.
“Like I said, that Skeleton Key is a piece of work. Of all the Daedric artifacts, it’s probably the most powerful when it comes to empowering a familia. By the time the Moot rolls around, I would say you would need at least ten for every one of theirs. But since she won’t ever let you get a fair fight, you’re better off bringing a hundred.”
Galmar scoffed, shaking his head, but he seemed more angry than dismissive. “So, a thousand men for a band of thieves?”
“A band of thieves led by a goddess with a key to the universe,” Ulfric corrected. “Thank you, Jericho. The information isn’t what I wanted to hear, but the truth rarely is.” He stopped leaning against the table. "Beyond that, you accomplished the tasks set before you -- Jarl Laila and Maven have both been returned, one way or the other."
To that, Harrald nodded, "As the new Jarl to Riften, it would shame me to leave your actions unrewarded." And that got my attention.
"You're already Jarl?" I questioned, making Saerlund scoff. Harrald sent him a furious look before answering.
He hesitated for a telling moment and Ulfric answered for him. "While his mother is… indisposed, Harrald has agreed to act as Jarl in her stead as her heir," he answered. I didn't have to scoff because Saerlund did that for me.
"And the fact that my brother already considers you a king has nothing to do with it, I'm sure," he remarked.
"Saerlund," Harrald snapped, only to cut himself off from a sharp look at Saerlund.
"I'm a dead man, brother. By your own hand, or this bastard's -- but I will hang with the knowledge that I told you exactly what I think of you," Saerlund spat at both his brother and Ulfric. The latter met his gaze while Galmar was chuckling, clearly amused. Then Ulfric turned his gaze to Harrald and nodded.
Harrald nodded back, "Becoming Thane of Riften shall be the least of your rewards." Harrald continued, his face going red from either embarrassment or anger. The guy couldn't be more of a puppet if Ulfric's hand was literally up his ass and making him say the words.
"And as a reward of service and making yourself an enemy of a Daedra, I name you Thane of Windhelm," Ulfric added.
I blinked at that, two Thaneships dropped into my lap when I only expected one. It was easy enough to guess why though. Ulfric was staking a claim on me and attaching his name to mine. Of my three Thaneships, one was a neutral party and the other two were Loyalist. Now, with this, I was the Thane of two Stormcloak cities as well.
That was actually pretty crafty of him, I had to admit.
"Thank you, both of you," I told them, accepting the titles. Now I wouldn't have to step foot in Windhelm, and I was just four Holds away from getting that secret title. Neat.
"Jericho Fivefold Thane," Galmar commented, sounding like he was actually impressed. "At this rate, you'll be the Thane of Skyrim before winter sets in."
While Galmar appeared impressed, Saerlund was less so. "Another puppet for the would-be-king," he accused. The feeling in the room tensed, Ulfric, and Galmar undoubtedly remembering our last one on one conversation. Their gazes were on me, wondering how I would respond to that while Harrald glared at his brother.
I couldn't exactly agree that I was a puppet. And…
At the start, Aela had said that I would end up calling Ulfric an idiot to his face. I just had to hope that Thaneships had a no take-back clause attached to them.
"I think," I started, speaking directly to Ulfric. "That starting a war with the Empire is a stupid idea." Saerlund's eyes widened to the point that there was an honest risk of them falling out. Ulfric's expression hardened while Galmar outright scowled.
Harrald looked about ready to start swinging, "The Empire has betrayed every Nord and Skyrim. They're filled with milk-drinking cowards who-"
"I can't say that I was there during the war. Not like either of you were. It was before my time," I said, ignoring the acting Jarl in favor of speaking directly to Ulfric. "But it's clear to all that the Empire got fucked during the war. And since it got fucked, it had to sign its name on a peace treaty that anyone with half a brain cell could see that was going to tear the Empire apart."
I could tell him about Alduin, but I didn't trust him. Especially not after he openly showed off his puppet Jarl.
"The Thalmor is going to attack again. It might not be in our lifetimes, but it will be in theirs. The Thalmor get to play that long con of chipping away at the Empire until all that's left is ashes and rubble. And when the Empire falls apart, they get to sweep up the pieces," I told Ulfric, and there was a deep scowl on his face. "A civil war in Skyrim for independence from the Empire? The only side that wins is the Thalmor."
"Skyrim will stand stronger and taller without the rot of the Empire dragging her down," Ulfric responded tersely. Yeah, he was pissed. "Our infantry is unmatched. Without incompetent generals and politics plaguing our every step, the war would have been won. Easily. We had the numbers, our terrain was our own -- yet we lost because brilliant generals were passed over because of shared blood of the powerful. Our magic divisions were little more than apprentices because the masters bribed officials to be relieved of duty!"
He slammed a fist against the table, making a solid thunk ring out in the room before he jabbed a finger in my direction. "If what Nocturnal said about you is true, then you are a peerless warrior. One of the greatest in Tamriel. If you had been born a few decades earlier if you were a soldier in the war? You never would have seen battle. You never would have come close. You would have been assigned to some fat, lazy and stupid noble that couldn't think past the end of his cock! Because that's what the Empire does -- everyone that could have made a difference is sidelined, passed over, or placed where they can't do a single thing."
Ulfric didn't tell or shout, but the anger in his voice carried well. He glared a challenge at me, and I was forced to think about what I knew about the war. Which was very little. All I really knew was that a Thalmor general had a Daedric artifact and used it to whoop the Empire's ass left right and center. But beyond that, I just knew that the Empire had lost.
One look at Ulfric told me that there was a lot more to the Empire's defeat that I didn't know or understand.
"That doesn’t change facts," I responded evenly. "Cutting Skyrim off from the Empire makes us isolated and alone. That's exactly what the Thalmor want. And anything that the Thalmor want, I don't want them to have." In that, we had a common enemy.
"If you have a better way then feel free to try it," Ulfric snapped at me. "The Thalmor is the enemy. They have always been the enemy. And I will see them destroyed. The Empire doesn’t have the strength or the will, and I will not allow them to lead my people into another war that they should win but choose to lose because of corruption and incompetence."
As annoying as it was, he did have a point there. The crux of the issue was that I didn't really know enough about the situation. The idea that Skyrim could fight off the Thalmor alone sounded ridiculous, but could Skyrim manage it? Yes? No? Probably? Maybe not? I had absolutely no clue.
I had opinions and ideas born from playing a game, rather than looking at the entire situation with my own eyes. And, to that, I understood why Ulfric was so angry. Partly because I was talking out of my ass, and because despite the fact that I was, I was also making some points of my own.
"The Moot is going to be a clusterfuck," I announced suddenly, making Ulfric blink while Galmar nodded in agreement. "Too many large personalities in a single room. You have the Jarls, the King, the Aedra, and the Daedra. And something like this can't be glossed over by the Empire, so they're going to send their own representatives. Probably the Emporer himself. Meaning that the Thalmor is also going to show up to remind the Empire that their boot is still on its neck."
"Is there a point to all of this?" Harrald demanded, sounding like he caught the memo I wasn't a Stormcloak.
"The point is that you're assuming that the Empire doesn’t want to crush the Thalmor as much as you do. And that the situation has changed dramatically -- the gods walk the planet. Talos among them. So, you want a better way than causing a war that'll weaken both Skyrim and the Empire? Use the Moot like everyone else will to shove their own agenda forward. Compromises will be made by every party. They have to, otherwise, it's going to turn into a bloodbath. Make your case and try to get the compromises that you want." I told Ulfric, meeting his gaze and I silently wondered what in the hell I just did.
I didn't want to empower him, but I also didn't want to deal with a civil war. If I had to give some advice to get him to use his words instead of starting a war, then I would just have to bite the bullet. Alduin was still the enemy.
Ulfric narrowed his eyes into a glare, but he did seem to be thinking about it. "Thank you for the advice, Thane of Windhelm," he bit out, not sounding very thankful. I simply nodded, taking it as the dismissal that it was and a confirmation that I still had the title.
My gaze slid over the people of the room, lingering on Saerlund. I doubt he could get away with talking to Ulfric like that. Not like I could. I should say something on his behalf…
But I didn't. I already rocked the boat too much with Ulfric and asking anything of him might be enough to tip it over. I couldn't take that risk, especially for someone I didn't know. So, I said nothing as I ducked my head to leave the room and closed the door behind me. Two weapons and two titles richer.
…
"Why are we in a hurry?" Farkas asked, sounding suspicious when I returned to the tavern. Aela and Mjoll were also up, both bleary-eyed.
"You know how I said that if Ulfric asked my political leanings, I would tell him?" I asked, and just like that, the sleep left their gazes and both Aela and Farkas looked like they were expecting Stormcloaks to start pouring in from the door and windows.
Aela's hand went to a dagger at her belt, "Is Ulfric still alive?" Mjoll's eyes widened when she realized that Ulfric dying was a possibility.
"He is. Just not very happy with me at the moment. But, good news, I'm Thane of Riften and Windhelm. So I have that going for me," I said, looking over the three. They were all packed up, ready to go… all except Mjoll. "So, I figure we should head out while we can. Before he changes his mind."
Aela and Farkas nodded, approaching the door, but Mjoll lingered. "I will stay here," Mjoll decided, looking at me as she announced her decision.
Aela frowned, "Are you certain?" She asked, earning a firm nod from Mjoll.
"For years, I have tried to do good in this city, but I was stopped every step of the way by maven Black-Briar and the Thieves Guild. With them gone, I believe I can finally start making a difference," Mjoll stated. And as far as reasons to stay went, it wasn't a bad one.
"I won't try to stop you if you're certain you want this," I told her. It would be good to have a friendly face in the city, and she was probably right about being able to make a difference. I had considered having her join the Hestia Familia, but… I didn't know Mjoll well enough to make that offer. We just didn't spend enough time together for me to see who she was underneath the meta-knowledge and good intentions. "If you're looking for a place to start -- try the orphanage. One of the kids informed me that Grelod the Kind isn’t as kind as the name implies."
Mjoll nodded firmly, looking relieved I hadn't challenged her on the fact that she was staying. “I will look into it. You have my word,” Mjoll agreed. That was a relief. Since the city was a dumpster fire when I arrived, I didn’t have the time to wrap up some loose ends. If someone else could tie them off for me, then that was great.
Aela stepped forward and offered a hand, “It was an honor,” she said as Mjoll clasped forearms with her.
“The honor was mine,” Mjoll returned, letting go of Aela and taking a step back. With that, I left the tavern with Aela and Farkas at my back. Stormcloak eyes were on us as we headed to the warehouse.
“She’ll be fine,” I told Aela as we entered the warehouse to find my wagon. It had only been a day or so, but it felt so much longer since I had arrived. Aela seemed to agree.
“Her place is here,” Aela agreed, climbing into the wagon with Farkas. “But that does beg the question of what do we do now? You have the backing of your would-be neighbors. Do we report back to Jarl Balgruuf?”
That was a good question. We accomplished what we set out to do. Sort of. Pulling out the wagon from the storehouse building, I turned my attention skyward to see snow beginning to fall from the sky. And as I pushed the wagon to the gate, looking beyond it, I saw that snow had already gathered on the stone and grass. Snow from yesterday, but it never warmed enough for the snow to melt.
Winter was setting in.
“I think we should. Just to give him a heads up,” I agreed, but my gaze found the mountain that separated me from Whiterun. The Throat of the World. At the top were the Greybeards. And Parthamax.
“What are you thinking, Jericho?” Farkas asked from the back of the wagon. I must have sounded distracted by my thoughts.
The top of the mountain was obscured by low hanging clouds, but a white cap could still be seen. “I’m thinking that it might be a good idea to pay the Greybeards a vist. Before the winter really sets in and climbing the mountain becomes a bigger pain in the ass than it has to be.”
Farkas let out a small laugh, “Planning to master the Thu’um?” He questioned, and to that, I could only shrug.
“Either that or convince some of the Greybeards to throw their hat in when it comes to stopping Alduin,” I answered thoughtfully. “I could always do it later, but they Greybeards don’t feel like a faction that you include at the last minute, you know?”
Aela made a noise of agreement. “You might not have much luck with them. They’re an ancient order that hasn’t come down from their temple in thousands of years. Or ever.” That was also true.
But I needed to start making progress with the skills I came to Skyrim to learn. The task I was given was completed. Now, it was time to learn how to use the Thu’um. Enchanting, magic spells, and so on. I had the winter to prepare. When spring came, I would be on the road again, picking up pieces of the kingdom and preparing for the Moot. After that, Alduin would come. Winter was my best shot.
With that thought in mind, I pushed the wagon towards my next destination.
...
So ends the Arc. Still have some mixed feelings about it, but based on all of the feedback, the problems I have with it seem to be in my head. The next arc begins were with a transition chapter, then it's on to the Greybeards and College of Winterhold for a training arc. After that is the Moot, then cleaning up Skyrim with some odds and ends, then there's the battle with Alduin.
I didn't realize it, but we're probably over halfway through with the Skyrim jump.
Comments
Ahtu Nyarlathotep
Can others see my comments on this chapter? They're missing in my message log(except weirdly enough the comment I made on the main comment xD). And the author says he didn't delete any comments, ever. He never saw a reason to, so I am guessing this is patreon. Question is: Is it a bug, or intentional?
Mioismoe
Man, that conversation with the gray Greybeards is gonna be hilarious.
