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Power Corrupts: Lumbering Giants (ch. 52)
🕑 Added 2020-10-17 15:01:44 +0000 UTCAs a reminder, there will be no updates next week. I’ll be back on the 31st with a chapter of Power Corrupts and the schedule will continue as normal.
...
"Alright. Fine. Take it from the top -- what in the hell happened?" I sighed, considering to turn around and march straight back home. Sheogorath said the clock was moving on my time, right? It should be fine. I could totally go home, relax with Hestia, then deal with this shit later. But, given my source of that information was quite literally the embodiment of insanity, the information was pretty suspect. So, I resisted the urge.
Barely.
Farkas shrugged before he nodded at a bar, gesturing for me to follow. "As far as I've heard? The Thieves Guild stole something from Maven Black-Briar, they kicked up a big fuss about it, and apparently, she wasn't just bragging about having the Jarl and the guards in her pocket-" Wait, she actually went around saying stuff like that? "Because they flooded the underway, or the sewers, looking for them."
Hm. This hadn't happened… so I'm guessing Nocturnal. "And they didn't find them, I'm guessing?" I guessed and earned a nod from Farkas as we walked. Wait, shit, there was that Blades guy in the underway? I swear to fucking God…
I could feel my stress levels rising already.
"No, they did. But the Thieves Guild has deeper pockets because they came back out on their side. The guards stormed the palace and the Black-Briar manor, clamped the Jarl and Maven in chains, and now the Thieves Guild rule the city," Farkas explained the situation. He led us to the Bee and the Barn, a bar at the edge of the market.
Before we entered, I spared a glance over the city. Things did seem tense with guards and soldiers on the streets, but not the kind of tense that came before a slaughter.
"Then Ulfric came," I continued, spotting the blue color that marked soldiers as Stormcloaks. "Doesn't look like there was any fighting, though."
"There wasn't," Farkas confirmed as we entered the bar. It looked like a dive bar -- too disorganized to be called a normal bar, but not too run down to deserve to be called a hole in the wall. It was filled with a decent number of people though, and my gaze landed on the first Argonian I had seen since coming to Skyrim. A woman with a reptilian face, her snout was long and covered in pale gray scales, her eyes red. She wore a dress that almost seemed out of place on a lizard person, but no one said anything about it so I wasn't going to either.
"When Ulfric showed up with half an army, the Thieves Guild went to ground. With hostages," Farkas added as he took a seat. There wasn't one that looked like it could hold my weight, so I leaned against a wall with an uncomfortably low ceiling. I got some glances but no one said anything. "So, now it's a standoff," He continued, flagging the waitress down for two mugs of ale. I wish he hadn't, but whatever.
I nodded, thinking that made sense, "Jarl Laila Law-Giver is one of his supporters. It's a bad look for him if he lets her get executed. Maven is rich, and money talks." Then I glanced at Farkas, "Where's Aela?"
"She's keeping an eye on the Black-briar family. In case they do something," He answered as the Argonian woman handed each of us a mug. We cluncked them before we started drinking and it tasted like absolute shit. Worse than normal alcohol. "So what happened in Markarth?"
I swallowed a sigh, "The Forsworn tried to invade. The Jarl got kidnapped. And no one noticed because the city was in the middle of a party led by Sanguine and Dibella that raged for about a week." Farkas blinked at that, mulling it over with a sip of his drink.
"Tried?" He questioned and I shot him a smirk.
"Tried," I confirmed. He started laughing at that.
"A Thane three times over," He remarked with a shake of his head. Then he paused to shoot me a look, "They did just Thane you, right?"
I nodded, "Just Thane'd me. Falkreath is getting its food, but Markarth is an absolute mess. Half the population left to go party with Sanguine and they were heading to Solitude… and so is Sheogorath, now that I think about it." Shit, did anyone send a letter warning them about that? Because it felt like we should have sent a letter about that.
I guess I knew which city I was going to bail out next.
Farkas looked oddly relieved, "Sounds like a real mess. And not the fun kind. Are you sure you still want to be Jarl? So far, it sounds like a colossal pain in the ass." He pointed out, and he wasn't wrong there.
At this point, I probably didn't need to become Jarl. I had thoroughly underestimated just how badly the gods descending would upheave the status quo. The point was to become Jarl so I could make the kind of changes to Helgen that Hestia was already making. Hestia just came in like a wrecking ball, said fuck the rules, and just started building. The reason to become Jarl wasn't there anymore.
But, I should still become the Jarl of Helgen. Being Thane was nice, but being Jarl would give me a seat at the big boy table when it came to making decisions. I would get to have a voice in what should be done about Alduin. Because, like it or not, titles had power in this era. That, and I was certain that I would get a Title out of it and that would mean another free perk point.
"Honestly? I think I've sunken so much effort into it I have to see it through at this point," I admitted another reason for wanting to become Jarl. Two weeks of just pure bullshit. With more bullshit on the way. If I didn't become Jarl at the end of all of this, I was going to be fuming.
Farkas chuckled at my honesty but didn't comment on it. He was right there with me for a lot of it, so he would know better than most. My attention was briefly stolen by the door swinging open and I saw Aela striding in followed by a woman that I didn't recognize. Given that I was a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, it only took her a moment to spot me.
"Jericho," She greeted, striding forward, an expression of relief on her face. "What happened?" She questioned and my eyes slid over to the woman standing next to her. She was tall, solidly built with blonde hair done up in a braid while light blue grease paint marked the left half of her face. "Ah, this is Mjoll the Lioness. She is a worthy warrior."
Ah. So that's who she was. Mjoll nodded at me, "Aela has spoken highly of you. I thought they were exaggerations, but…" She trailed off, earning a lopsided grin from me.
"Nice to meet you, Mjoll. As for why I was late…" I gave them both a quick rundown of the situation in Markarth. Aela blanched while Mjoll shook her head.
"The gods do love their games, but this is unacceptable," Mjoll muttered to herself. And she wasn't wrong there.
"But nothing can really be done about it," I admitted with a shrug. Imprisoning them is a bad idea. Killing them is a worse one. The only thing we can really do is sweep up the mess that they leave behind." Though, that wasn't exactly a reassurance based on the look that the three were giving me. "They'll settle down. In a couple of centuries. Hopefully."
Aela sighed, "Sanguine is one of the less malevolent Daedra. I shudder to think what Molag Bal is up to."
I couldn't agree more there. "With any luck, he won't be interested in descending. With Akatosh maintaining the barrier around Mundus and without having to divide his attention between a dozen different Daedra, he can be isolated or… what's with those looks?" I trailed off, noticing the owlish blinks that the three were giving me.
They shared a look before Farkas spoke, "Barrier around Mundus?" He asked for clarification. Was that not common knowledge? I'm pretty sure that it was… so it might just be a Nord ignorance thing.
To cover my tracks, I shrugged, "Sheogorath." I answered simply and they seemed to accept that answer. An explanation of who Sheogorath really was weighed heavily on my tongue, but now wasn't the time. We had more pressing matters to deal with. "So, any ideas on how to put out this fire?"
I was asking because I wasn't sure. Ulfric being here complicated things. For me, at least. If he wasn't here, I could probably handle the Thieves Guild and keep everything on the down-low. But since he was here, the entire situation was under scrutiny by everyone and doing Ulfric a solid would paint me as a sympathizer. And that would make things awkward for me.
Then, as if they were summoned by my thoughts, the doors to the bar opened and two Stormcloaks stepped in. A few went quiet, but Riften was ultimately a Stormcloak city so most raised their mugs and greeted them with a cheer. They looked around and spotted me with the same ease as Aela did.
One of them said something that was lost in the cheer, but it made a man that had been waiting on the other side of the door to step in. A tall solidly built man with a wolf pelt serving as a hat. Almost as one, the bar took in a collective breath and the Argonian woman dropped a mug of ale she had been carrying. He took in the room before his gaze settled on me. The sound of his footsteps seemed to echo through the tavern as he approached, Aela and Mjoll stepping back to clear the way.
“Jericho, Thane of Whiterun?” He asked in a rough voice after coming to a stop directly in front of me, looking up. I was still a head taller than him, but there wasn’t an ounce of fear in his eyes. Something that I hadn’t really seen since my time in Danmachi. And there I didn’t have the strength and reputation that I had here.
“And Falkreath and Markarth,” I added for him, pushing myself off the wall to look down at him. He blinked at the knowledge, and I was forced to remind myself that I traveled faster than news here. In the two weeks I’ve been traveling… they probably just heard that I was the Thane of Whiterun. “You are?”
“Galmar Stone-Fist,” Galmar introduced himself, deciding to hold out a hand to clasp. And despite my misgivings about his politics, I didn’t have it in me to leave him hanging. He was the second in command to Ulfric Stormcloak, the right-hand man and the general to his armies. Snubbing him was just a dumb move. “The Jarl would like an audience with you, Jericho Thrice Thane.”
Right. You know, the titles were a little fresh for me so it was easy to forget I was technically someone important. The kind of person that other important people would like to meet. In my defense, I spent the vast majority of my life as a total nobody.
I nodded, letting go of his hand as my mind raced. “Of course. Though, did he say what for?” I asked somewhat hesitantly because he could want to talk to me about a whole lot of things. Hestia had mentioned that people were soliciting her for building materials, and… simply put, Hestia wasn’t a small-time goddess anymore. She was amongst the Aedra, the one that set everything in motion by sacrificing her Arcanum.
And I was her lover and Champion.
“You have a reputation of solving problems, and Jarl Ulfirc wishes to make use of you. I’m sure your companions have told you what has happened in Riften,” He explained, nodding at Farkas and Aela. Farkas raised his mug while Aela nodded. So, I’m guessing that they knew each other, if only in passing.
Though, I’m guessing that topic was a foot in the door to ease into the elephant in the room. And it wasn't something I could brush off.
"Lead the way," I said with a nod, seeing Farkas knock back his drink while I left mine on the table along with a handful of coins. Mjoll fell in line behind Farkas and Aela, so I guess she was a member of the group or something. But given how it felt like we were a bit short-handed with the whole 'save the world's thing, I wasn't going to complain. I felt every eye on us as we walked out of the tavern.
Galmar wasn't one for small talk as we made our way to the palace. I briefly considered putting on my armor with a thought, but that was also a bad look wasn't it -- suiting up to meet the Jarl? But I could help but feel a little anxious. I was meeting pretty much one of the last people I wanted to meet. Ulfric shouted a king to death, started a civil war, and was a racist prick.
The Thu'um was something I had been hit with a couple of times, but each time it was different. The first time, it was like a sledgehammer hit me in the chest and nearly tore right through me. The second time, it felt like I had been hit by a speeding car -- it sent me flying, but the damage was more disbursed to the point I only got knocked on my ass. Ulfric was picked to become a Graybeard. He was trained by masters of the Voice for years.
So, it shouldn't be much of a shock that I wanted to wear my armor when I met the guy.
The keep was… old. It was obvious with a glance -- the solid stone was covered in vines that gave it a fantasy look, but the parts that weren't were clearly weathered by time. It was almost to make it look run down like the city around it, but the keep was large and grand enough that it seemed age with grace. Though, it was fairly obvious what were newer additions to the keep. And by new, I meant… possibly thousands of years old, just newer than the main building.
Walking up the steps that was flanked by high walls to separate the keep from the rabble. As we climbed up the steps, I looked to the side to see something that I hadn’t seen before at ground level -- half of the city looked like it was built on the docks. Or, rather the docks expanded and grew until it was solid enough to carry half of a city, then they tacked on docks at the end of those docks. There were gaps that made it obvious where the solid ground ended and where the manmade supports began.
It was a nice distraction for a few seconds, but as we neared the keep, my attention was stolen by who I was about to meet. Galmar pushed the door open with little ceremony, leading us inside. The hall was grand -- wide open with some steps leading to a platform, then some more steps where the throne sat. Behind the throne were stained glass windows and with the sun shining through them, the hall was dyed several colors.
And there was the man himself -- Ulfric Stormcloak. He looked older than I expected. His mane of brown hair was pushed back, but it showed a hint of gray at the roots at his ears. Around his hard blue eyes were some wrinkles… I had to remind myself that the guy was in his fifties. So, in that case, the guy was aging gracefully as hell.
Ulfiric watched us enter like a hawk, hitting on the first set of steps rather than the throne. Given that he hadn’t named himself king, yet, that was probably a status thing. His hands were clasped before him, his lips pressed together in a thin line -- if I had to describe his expression, it would be severe. His gaze never left mine, neither of us blinking as we approached. Then I came to a stop with him looking down at me.
“It’s hardly my place, but welcome to Riften, Jericho of Whiterun,” Ulfric started. I expected a gruff voice to match his expression, but it was irritatingly smooth. His second in command walked to the base of the steps, turning around to look at us, but he spared a glance at Ulfric.
“Falkreath and Markarth too,” Galmar added, and I was thoroughly surprised to see that Ulfric blinked in surprise at the news. I… shit, I think I was doing something dumb -- I was going with what I believed Ulfric to be. The guy stubborn enough to take on the entire empire, no matter how bad of an idea it was. I was expecting him to act how I believed him to act despite the fact this was the first time meeting him.
I made that mistake in Danmachi. I couldn’t afford to make it again, especially when the stakes were so much higher.
“That sounds like a tale,” Ulfric remarked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
I could only offer a shrug, “It’s more or less what’s happening here. Gods descending, made a mess, and I was in the area to clean it up.” Since I traveled faster than the news, they probably wouldn’t know the story. And… to put it simply, telling them I had punched out a couple hundred orcs then killed an army was going to sound like me bullshitting. They could learn how I became Thane in those Holds after I left.
“Hmph. Chance or ambition?” Ulfric questioned directly, and it was then that I noticed that his voice was oddly… powerful. They sounded normal, but they… I don’t even know how to describe it, but it was like they had some kind of weight to them that hit you physically. Except not really. Was that because of the Thu’um?
And that was a good question. I looked at Ulfric for a moment and considered something -- I was still biased against him, but… should I tell him about Alduin? I still didn't like the idea of him getting the kill or involving him at all. But, wouldn't it be worth it if I could nip the whole rebellion thing in the bud? If Ulfric didn't rebel then that was just one less problem I had to deal with. Rather than standing divided, fighting half of the country, we could fight together against Alduin.
If everyone killed each other after, then…
That would be my problem, wouldn't it? Hestia was invested in Skyrim. The city she was building -- it was a home. And her Arcanum… if we just left, never bothering to return, then Hestia would have given away a significant portion of her Arcanum for nothing. And I wasn't sure how I could fix that.
I couldn't treat this as a problem that wouldn't affect me.
"Hestia, my goddess, was the first to walk Nirn. And while the rest of the gods descending was a big shock to me too, I went to Jarl Balgruuf with the intention of becoming Thane to gain some protection for Hestia," I admitted to him, having paused a moment too long to brush the question off.
I couldn't tell him about Alduin. I didn't know Ulfric and I trusted him less. If I told him then he was just as likely to use it as a rallying point to boost his popularity.
To that, Ulfric nodded understandingly. "I can understand that. Though, it does seem that mortals are in need of protection of the gods these days," He remarked. Before I could say anything, Aela stepped forward.
"Having met Divine Hestia, I will give my word that she is a kind woman and a kinder goddess," Aela spoke up in her defense. "The Daedra and some of the Aedra's actions shouldn't reflect onto her. She holds herself to a high standard and expects herself to surpass it at every turn." I glanced at Aela as Ulfric did.
The man nodded, "At least one is." He said, not hinting at what he thought about Hestia. But before I could say anything, he looked back at me. "Rumors say that Talos was in Whiterun," He started and if I had to guess, I would say that he was jealous.
I nodded, "He was. If he has any plans, then he kept them close to his chest. He spoke to me a bit about the gods descending and Hestia joining their Pantheon, but after that, he just disappeared." Ulfric frowned at that and I could only shrug, more or less knowing his thoughts because I thought the same thing. "I'm sure he's planning something. He seemed pretty mellow, but a guy like that can't stay retired for long."
To that, Ulfric smirked, "I suspect not." Then he shifted, "But, I didn't summon you to speak of the gods and their plans, but rather how to deal with one underneath our feet. Nocturnal and her Thieves Guild have taken several hostages."
"Have they made any demands?" I asked with a frown. I didn't know much about Nocturnal, other than she was apparently motherly but stern in the game. I couldn't even begin to guess her game plan. But taking hostages sounded like a reactionary thing rather than a game plan.
Ulfric shook his head, "None."
My frown deepened. "Since it's Nocturnal… it's possible that they're already gone," I said, making Galmar's eyes narrow, so I quickly explained. "I ran into Sheogorath, and she had one of her Daedric artifacts. A fork called Forky that turned whatever she stabbed into a cheese wheel." That was a story and a half to hear -- apparently some random guy rolled up to the house and started making demands before he caught a fork to the throat.
Ulfric massaged temples with a hand, "She?" He questioned after a pause that was filled with the sound of Farkas chuckling. Before I could answer, Galmar spoke up, questioning what I meant that they could already be gone.
"If Nocturnal has the Skeleton Key, then they could be long gone," I explained. The Skeleton Key was more than an unbreakable lockpick. It could be used to teleport. The entire Thieves Guild questline hinged on no one knowing that it was Mercer Frey having the Key and murdered Gallus Desidenius, the former Thieves Guild leader. If Nocturnal spilled the beans and ambushed Mercer, then it would be simple to get the Key back and the entire questline was avoided. So, I had to assume that she had the Key, and considering it was her artifact, I'm guessing that she could use it for more than just teleportation.
Ulfric went quiet, his expression stony. "They haven't all left then. Before we were issued a demand to stop, my men were ambushed in the tunnels below." Huh. Home field advantage had to account for something, but there was only like a dozen names characters in the Thieves Guild. In the game, that is so maybe there were more members.
I considered that for a moment, then I shrugged, "I can try to negotiate with them," I offered. "I'm a lot tougher to kill than a normal person, and they might be more willing to talk to me since I'm the Captain of the Hestia familia." I guessed, making Galmar scowl.
He let out a sigh, "Familias… that's what the rabble down there was calling itself. So, just because they get a blessing from a god, all of a sudden they're a familia instead of just a band of thieves?" He shook his head, "I don't like that at all."
Ulfric nodded, though I couldn't tell if he was giving me the go-ahead or agreeing with his second in command. "Would that work?" He questioned, his tone serious. "Given who you are, it would be a lot of trouble for me if you end up getting yourself killed."
Huh. “I’ll be fine, and I think it’s the best shot. From what Dibbela told me, the gods haven’t hammered out the rules for the great game that they’re playing yet. Of course, it means that there aren’t any rules to say that she can’t try to kill me, but, likewise, there aren’t any rules to say that I can’t slaughter her familia without consequence. So, I’m banking on her not wanting to rock the boat.” Ulfric cocked an eyebrow at that, but I didn't elaborate.
In Danmachi, there was the War Game to regulate conflict between familias. While the fact that there were no rules offered no form of defense for us, it also meant that Nocturnal didn’t have it either. Her Skeleton Key would be a real problem, but ideally, it wouldn’t come down to a fight.
“That sounds like the arrogance of youth, but if that were the case, then Jarl Balgruff wouldn’t have named you Thane,” Ulfric said before he nodded. “Very well, I will trust your judgment -- save Jarl Laila. I’m sure you will have her thanks… And mine,” He added, his tone serious. I met his gaze and offered a firm nod, knowing that was a dismissal.
And I already knew what I wanted for my reward.
"Consider it done," I said before turning to leave. I felt Ulfric's gaze on my back as we left the keep, and no sooner than the doors had closed did I let out a sigh. Next to me, Farkas started chuckling.
"That went better than I thought it would," He stated as we walked down the steps. With my expanded vision, I saw Aela nod while Mjoll simply walked along with us.
I shot Farkas a look, "What's that supposed to mean?" He gave me an unrepentant smile in response, letting Aela answer.
"You haven't made your distaste for the Stormcloaks a secret, Jericho. I thought you would start a fight." Aela said, making Farkas laugh and it only intensified when I scowled.
"I figured you would have walked right up to the guy and tell him you thought he was an idiot," Farkas picked up where Aela left off. "Make fun of the entire Stormcloak idea, challenge him on the civil war that's coming… maybe challenge him to a duel or something." My scowl only deepened and I shot him a sharp look… before sighing.
"I'm not that direct," I defended weakly.
"Jericho, the first time I saw you fight, you literally went to a fort full of bandits and asked, 'Are you bandits?'" Aela pointed out, sending me a teasing smirk. I thought back to that fort of bandits -- I had been unsure what to do, really. I didn't want to risk killing an innocent group of people just because they were camped out in an old fort. So, just kicking the door down and start swinging sounded like a bad idea. So, I asked. And was answered with an arrow shot at my face.
So, I could only shrug in response to that point. "Fair, but I wouldn't say it's not going to happen," I remarked. Now they looked concerned that I would start lambasting the guy right to his face. "He's feeling me out right now. Probably to see if I'm an asset or a problem. Once he sees what I can do, he's going to make a pitch for me to join the cause and get Hestia to pledge support."
Something that was true throughout human history -- when people believed the gods or God was on your side, then you were righteous. And few could hope to match the will of the faithful when they truly believed that they were doing god's work. Except the gods could now be seen, spoken to, and when you asked for direction, they could point the way out to you.
Having Hestia, or any of the gods, declare for Ulfric was pretty much the last push he would need to become king.
So, he would ask.
And I would answer.
…
Short chapter is short. I wanted to get more into the action, but this was a good stopping point. Riften gets wrapped up next chapter, then, after that, it's time for a training montage.
Comments
Ahtu Nyarlathotep
So, the better option is to waste both the empire and Skyrim's resources/human lives - Rule through force and fear, and do the Thalmor's job for them? A ridiculous notion. It's certainly worth negotiating for, but not even remotely worth fighting a war with them for. A war they can't afford. What Ulfric did, is as they say in accordance with Skyrim law. And Torygg even accepted it. You might have had a point if Torygg referred to imperial law, and refused. But he didn't. They had the perfect excuse to distract the Thalmor using Skyrim, and supporting them on the downlow through the trade. And then joining in when they were ready. A fairly brief period serves the humans WAY better than it serves the Thalmor. As they're way more reproductive, and willing to get their hands dirty in the literal sense - Rebuilding, and preparing for the next war. As things stand they *are* being maniuplated against one another. This really is the worst case scenario that the empire is going in for. With the premise that Ulfric wanted take the throne on, he could hardly have refused when they later called an alliance in fighting the Thalmor - Even if he wanted to. Which he certainly would not really refuse either way. Letting the province go, was the only even half-intelligent choice to make. They had the excuse they needed in Skyrim law, and the displeasure of the population. Now they are instead fighting the Thalmor's war, enforcing their laws, and giving them free reign.
Benjamin Lawton
Yeah, no. If Skyrim splits off, then rather than a single, mostly-united enemy with diminished but still significant strength, the Thalmor would instead be facing several, far <i>weaker</i> enemies that can be either picked off individually with far greater ease, or else manipulated against each other. Basic "divide and conquer" tactics. Prior to Ulfric doing the incredibly stupid and impossible-to-ignore thing of killing Torygg, the Empire had been perfectly content with sitting back and let the Stormcloaks and the Thalmor slaughter each other, all while continuing to half-ass their "enforcement" of the Talos ban which they didn't even like anyway.
Ahtu Nyarlathotep
Hmm he's not exactly wrong about the war per se. But it's the empire that is stupid enough to fight that war, and weaken both sides up for the Thalmor. They can only lose by doing this, instead of letting Skyrim leave the empire, like Hammerfell. Letting them leave would keep the Thalmor busy while they build their strength. They can still trade with them afterall, Skyrim would just become independant. The treaty does not force them to fight for the Thalmor, they're stupid enough to do that willingly, when there's a better solution. Ulfric is going about this all the wrong way, and he's probably doing it out of personal greed as well. But his basic cause is the right course of action(even if he is a terrible choice for a ruler).
