While leaving Windhelm, it suddenly dawns on me that Ulfric may have been very serious when he said he'd "see me soon". After all, Whiterun is expecting an impending invasion. I realize that I may very well be the only warning Whiterun will have. I take off running into the forest.
I stumble across an old shack that is of some interest. While it's actually a pile of crap, I find the deed to the property lying nearby, and summarily pocket it. How fortuitous--I'll have to come back here later.
I crest the rise out of the valley, and see Whiterun on the horizon. It's still standing, so that's a plus. But the sun is coming up--I need to hurry.
Some bandits foolishly waylay me. Normally I'd stop, talk it over, beg for my life, and cut some sort of deal, but I'm not in an affable mood right now.
As the sun peeks over the horizon, I'm struck by a profound wave of headrush, like nothing I've ever had. I guess I really need to sleep or get a drink or something. I've been running on empty of just about everything for quite some time.
My frustration with Balgruuf upon reaching Dragonreach is palpable. Who should I find talking with the Jarl, warning him of an incoming Stormcloak invasion force, but a similarly breathless courier? I mean, I know these Skyrim couriers are the best in Tamriel (maybe it's the thin air they train in), but this is ridiculous.
I rather grumpily catch my breath while Balgruuf and the Legion commander argue about tactics. When given an opening, I report the now redundant point that the Stormcloaks are going to attack--surprise!--and lurch my way down to the outer wall, ready for a fight.
Now, this open air combat stuff really isn't my thing. When the Stormcloaks finally charge, I fire off a few perfunctory arrows but eventually get tired of it and charge in, knife swinging.
These Stormcloaks are easy pickings for a guy like me. They're just Noses after all. If Ulfric were serious, he'd have sent an army of orcs. Better yet: mammoths.
I scramble about the battlefield, killing who I can while dutifully looting the arrows from everybody. This Stormcloak steel is worth its weight in gold (for some reason), and I'm not passing up on an opportunity to make it big in a battle. Just because I'm fighting for king and country doesn't mean I can't get paid.
The arrows that are actually getting loosed are sure beginning to hurt, though.
I suppose I should clean this up before I'm genuinely in danger. Thank goodness I have the rest of the Imperials and Whiterunners to soak up some of the fire.
When we win, there's more speeches. I stand by patiently, hoping for a reward or something, while I look over the details of the deed I'd picked up from the collapsed shack.
Turns out that, yes indeed, as long as I hold this deed, I effectively own the property and everything on it. While the prospect of owning a downed tree and some rubble is appealing, I'm more interested in the fact that I'm now a landowner.
Professional mercenary, spy, and assassin accounted for, being a dignified property owner was not something I saw in my future, not for a former Windhelm dockworker.
When the speeches are over, I head back into the city to see if I can sell the arrows as scrap and make some coin. Unfortunately, the city's still such a wreck that none of the shops are available. Actually, it's almost empty.
Well, that's good for one thing, I guess.
I mean, seriously? We just fought off an invasion by a swarm of Noses and this guy has the gall to keep preaching about how great they are during the battle? If there's ever a kill I should have been paid for, it's this.
Since the carriage is also out of order, I reckon I'll have to take the long way back east toward my new property. Fortunately, I find an abandoned horse in the pass, and that makes the journey a bit easier.
I don't think Assfalloff will mind--this is like a spiritual completion of his journey, the part he never got to see because I got him blown up by a coven of witches.
It kind of ends the same way though since some bears scare the horse away and it runs off a cliff. Oh, well; we didn't really have time to bond.
I pass through Ivarstead on my way up north and remember that one of my Brotherhood targets is in the area. I move quickly, trying to find him before another dragon shows up and kills him too. I am successful, although I don't linger. Beggars being beggars, I think people still frown on their murder. I think.
I soon find my way back to the shack, but not without a spot of getting lost. I realize I need to commit this place to memory or this could be a problem in the future, if I plan on visiting it with any regularity.
I clear away the rubble and head up to the nearby shed to take stock of my inventory. I'm going to need a lot of supplies--wood and nails--but the building I can do myself. I'm a dockworker, after all. I'm good with my hands.
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