Frozen Tears: Prologue

• Posted by Felkros August 14, 2017 - Filed in TSC: Long Story - #Frozen Tears  #Civil War  #Felkros  - 1,388 views

  Jarl Balgruuf studied the letter, a headache already forming. Another push from Tullius to side with the Empire. The general was getting impatient, and Balgruuf wasn’t sure how much longer he could delay his answer. Pushing the letter aside, he studied the latest series of dragon attacks, seeing how they looked alone, and in comparison to the others, searching for patterns. Rorikstead was half destroyed, and Riverwood had no guards, which means a dragon attack would utterly destroy the little town. Even so, what could guards do against those beasts? There were a half dozen sightings every week now, and all they could do was cower. Apparently, an archer from Riverwood, a wood elf, was out on a hunting trip when he saw one. He then did the logical thing, and shot at the mythical beast from legends, with a hunting bow and iron arrows. He was in the temple now, with horrifying burns all over his body. From what they could get out of him, the dragon unleashed its flames for only a second before growing bored and flying off. And the man… er, the mer, barely made it. If it had stuck around even a second longer, it could have destroyed him as easily as a giant crushes a rabbit. Frowning even deeper, Balgruuf decided to focus on what he could do.

   

  “Irileth!”

   

  Turning away from her position at the door, she jogged over to the edge of the balcony, where Balgruuf sat. “Yes, my lord?”

   

  “How many guards are we not recruiting because they didn’t meet the weapon requirements?”

   

  “My lord?” Irileth was one of the few who questioned him, and usually he didn’t mind, even appreciated her criticisms. But he was not in the mood today. “Answer the question.”

   

  “Four, my lord.” It was clear she didn’t like where this was going.

   

  “And we have one lad who is temporarily suspended, due to goofing off?”

   

  “Yes, but with all due respect, I don’t-”

   

  Balgruuf tuned her out and stared at the table. When he looked up, his housecarl looked expectantly at him.

   

  “Give the suspended guard his position back. Accept the four other candidates. Send them, along with our… second best archer, send them all to guard Riverwood.”

   

  “Are you sure that is wise?”

   

  “No. But we must do it anyway.”

   

  Most people thought Irileth was always frowning, but that was just her resting face. But Balgruuf could tell that in this moment, she was truly unhappy with his decision. But she bowed all the same. “It will be done,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

   

  As his loyal friend walked away, Balgruuf regarded the view of the Whiterun plains, and moved his attention back to the Civil War. Back to the impossible choice.

   

  ~-~-~-~-~

   

  Far away, an Argonian thief slipped away into the night. Argonians weren’t allowed into Windhelm, which made it among his favorite city for stealing. He didn’t have to worry about ruining relationships or closing doors when the doors were already closed, and it was much more exciting worrying than the other cities, for he had to evade both the guards and the townsfolk. Soars-Above-Clouds looked up at the stars, and sent a silent thanks to his Birthsign, the Thief. Unlike others, unlike those born under the Lady or the Tower, his purpose was clear. He was born under the Thief, so, he stole. And he liked it, he took to it even from a young age. It was as natural as swimming for him. Little did he realize that by stealing that golden goblet, he set in motion a chain of events that could not be stopped. Ignorant to the coming manhunt for the goblet, he smiled to himself, content.

   

  ~-~-~-~-~

   

  “No, no, no!” Druiston cried out as his wife’s shallow breaths finally stopped.

   

  “Abella, no, no, stay with me… no, Abella, please, I can’t live without you.” When he finally realized she had passed, he looked up to the werewolves retreating forms, already on a distant hillside.

   

  “I’ll kill them. I’ll skin the damn beasts.” He ignored the wails of the villagers and the grief in his gut, and focused on the werewolves. Pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead, he brought her to their horse. First, he would go to Whiterun, and give her a proper burial. Then… he would have his revenge. As Rorikstead fell to pieces around him, he looked back at the tracks, going west, away from Whiterun. He pushed down his grief, and tried to focus on his desire for revenge as he rode towards the city. Even though it was a warm night, he couldn’t stop shaking.

  ~-~-~-~-~

   

  Arlya’s eyes widened as she cradled the tome in her hands, hardly able to believe it was in her hands. “Finally, I found you.” The thing looked positively ancient, she would have to talk to Urag gro-Shub about how to read it without it falling apart. But no matter what, she would find a way. Her search was finally, finally over. And power was one step closer.

   

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