Tirdas, 26 of Last Seed
The refugees havent arrived at Whiterun yet, but some survivors from Helgen came through the gate. A woman with a young son told me it wasn't just a fire, it was a Dragon.
Dragons flying in the skies of Skyrim again? Any Nord knows that the Dragons are the harbingers of the end times. Though it seems too fantastic to be true, looking into the ashen eyes of this woman, with the smoke and embers of Helgen still fresh on her cheeks, I can tell any man with certitude, she spoke the truth.
I sent her to the barracks, and to Caius. Last I saw, he had taken her up to Dragonsreach to the Jarl.
The twilight days of Skyrim, war chomping at the bit, the monster of Greymoor on the loose in the hold, these are dark times.
As I stand guard, I saw the engorged harvest sun sinking in the west. I fear the worst for the refugees from the easten holds. With the roads as dangerous as they are in this time of war, anything could have happened. The Bandits may have wised up to the helpless state of the masses forced out by the Stormcloak occupation. The men I saw carrying weapons have seen too many season to be any use with them. Talos knows whats become of them.
Earlier today, Mina came to me with a sweetroll. She made it herself, she told me with childish pride. It was delicious, I'll have to tell Heron and Fria that they ought to teach her to cook more, the child has a talent. From my days of travel and adventure, I've learned that its the smallest comforts that matter most. The kindness of a child is worth more to me than a barrel full of gold.
Ive kept a keen eye on all the travelers that came through the gate. None of them stood out to me. Then again, the monster of Greymoor could have been any one of them. If only I had a description of the man, some clue to his appearance that could give me a glimpse of his twisted face. The Bandit's last words have only helped bolster my vigilance, but haven't helped me find the man who ravaged the Fort.
Being bound to the Gate, I don't know if Caius kept his word and warned the Jarl of the incident at Greymoor. My gut tells me he hasn't. As soon as I'm relieved I'll find out the truth.
Ill give him one thing, he was right about the Imperials. Sure as a cocks crow at dawn, the Imperials that came early yesterday began selling they're belongings. I could hear their frantic shouts from here at the Gate. Anything made of gold or silver was for sale, even wedding bands. Its only a matter of time before things get out of hand.
Belan hasn't come back with his volunteers yet, and I fear he wasn't as succsesful as I hoped.The Nines know we need as many men as we can get get.
Caius just informed us of the Jarls wish. We are to close the Gate until further notice, due to the possibility of Dragons in the hold. A command that would seem insane, if it had come at any other time.
As the great oaken gates groaned shut, my thoughts turned to the the refugees that were still out there, beyond these high stone walls. Imperials they may be, but they were men of Skyrim, as I am. They would have no shelter from the legendary beasts of old should they come to claim sovereignty over our city.
With the Gate closed, I began my usual patrol through the city. The Imperials that were shut inside with us had taken to the walls for shelter, as the Bannered Mare was filled to the brim with their brethren. From the Gate to the steps of Dragonsreach, along the western and eastern walls, theirs tents and bedrolls stretched, a city within a city. Even with my thick fur cloak and padded armor, the cold northern air still chilled my flesh. I can only imagine what those wretches were feeling in their flimsy linen tents.
My shift past quickly as the night thickened, with no incidents to report. A good day for a guard, a terrible day for Skyrim. If the Dragons were back, as the woman told me, the worst was yet to come.
