Goodbye Skyrim: Chapter 1

• Posted by The Long-Chapper June 23, 2018 - Filed in TSC: Short Story - #Straag Rod  #Lissette  #Karver  #Teineeva  - 1,625 views

  

  A collaboration by Karver the Lorc, Teineeva, and The Long-Chapper

  

  3 hours till dusk

   

  Erik set down another pair of chairs, wiping off the sweat from his forehead. The day was certainly warmer than he expected, but it was a nice touch for today’s event. If Grulmar spoke the truth, the homestead probably wouldn’t be big enough for all the people that were invited. Speaking of which, Erik wondered where they were all supposed to sleep. Well, I’ll let Grulmar worry about that one.

   

  He looked around, making sure Tilma wasn’t lurking and stole a bottle of mead from the table, uncorking it and took a sip. He sighed with delight. There was nothing like cold mead on a warm day. Well it was warm for Nords, probably other races would be freezing their arses off still.

   

  They had carried several tables out to the porch, setting them next to each other, along with any chair and bench from both Ronnie’s house and from Farkas’ and Greir’s home that they could find, including Ronnie’s big hearth chair, where the Elf liked to sit and smoke at night, usually with his nose in a book, or with Ronnie the Younger at his knee, reading the baby stories. That chair was placed at the head of the lined up tables and Erik assumed that would be Ronnie’s place. If Erik counted right, there were places for at least twenty people, and that was in no way a small party. He just wondered who was invited.

   

  After all, this wasn’t some public feast in Jorrvaskr or something. No, that had already happened according to Vilkas and Aela, who had arrived to help a short while ago, already putting their hands to work, though Erik wondered how long Vilkas would last in his full wolf armor. Aela was far more sensible, just in trousers and a pale shirt, but Vilkas... He was always the more formal twin. Probably wore that armor for Ronnie’s feast in Jorrvaskr too.  That, and celebrations in Dragonsreach with the full court assembled. Erik could only imagine that Ronnie had hated all of that, especially if he was this closed off. Instead, this was a feast for the Dragonborn, in his own home. Twenty people was quite a lot though and Erik eyed the work table that was set on the porch, their makeshift counter, with all kinds of bottles on it, everything from wine to mead to brandies, from several different provinces. He took another sip of mead and furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the collection of bottles. Are these from Ronnie’s own cellar?

   

  He’s going to be so pissed.  

   

  “Isn’t it a bit early to be eyeing that?” Vilkas chuckled and Erik turned around, smiling. The younger twin looked good, more filled out and a lot less…troubled was the word that immediately popped into Erik’s head, than he did before. There was a smattering of grey around the temples to match his silver eyes, but the eyes shone with a calm that Erik had not seen in the man since he first met the Companion.

   

  “Just making sure there’s enough once we get this thing rolling.”

   

  Vilkas patted him on his shoulder with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry, brother. We’ve booked kegs of mead, ale and beer from the brewery. Jon should be here with them soon.”

   

  “Jon Battle-Born?” Erik Talon-Hand raised his eyebrows, his smile morphing to a grin.  “You’ve given the job to the right man then. We can be sure the kegs will arrive full.”

   

  “Sure they will.” Vilkas laughed. “It’s Lucky Moons, remember? Best mead in Skyrim.”

   

  “Aye, not so sure now. How are you?” The words just came out and it made the older Nord pause.

   

  “Still getting used to it.” Vilkas answered while he scratched his head, the emotion in his eyes growing strong. “Not what I asked for, but I honor him because it is his wish. He will always be Harbinger to me though. Always ‘Harbinger’, always ‘‘Master’.” Vilkas cleared his throat and flashed a stubborn smile. “Mer can throw all the tankards he wants at me, I will always call him that, for his patience and his understanding. I had been very wrong about her and he.. it’s like none of that mattered, you know? Like nothing happened.”

   

  Before Erik could respond, there was a flash of purple light and then a figure appeared in the middle of the road. Erik narrowed his eyes when he noticed the robes of a Vigilant of Stendarr and the petite form. His knees suddenly didn’t feel so strong when he recognized that it was Tavia. Grulmar went to greet her and pointed towards the homestead, basically in the direction of Erik and the little Redguard woman’s kitten-blue eyes gazed that way.

   

  Erik forced a smile on his face and raised his hand in greeting, which she returned, without a smile though. She nodded at him and then walked past the tables into the homestead, not even giving him a second glance. One would even say that she was avoiding looking at him. Erik sighed and he noticed Grulmar looking at him with raised eyebrows and then the Orc just rolled his eyes and went back to whatever he was doing before Tavia showed up - which was probably nothing.

   

  “Am I missing something here?” Vilkas grinned, poking Erik’s ribs with his elbow. “I know very well that Fort Dawnguard is not all that far from Stendarr’s Beacon. I helped the Vigilants move from the fort to the Beacon, remember?”

   

  The younger Nord rubbed his eyes, sighing again.

   

  “Oh. There is something going on, isn’t there? Normally you would be all grinning that you’ve peaked under another skirt, but now you’re not. So what’s the matter?”

   

  “Just don’t rub in it, Vilkas,” Erik murmured, pushing Vilkas away.

   

  “Ah, shit, is it like how it was with me and Ria?” The Nord asked, then he blew out a gust of air. “I’m sorry, brother. Have you tried talking to her?”  

   

  “I’ll be right back, need to piss.” With that, he left Vilkas standing by the tables as he walked around the corner of the homestead, where he stopped and leaned against the wall, making a tiny moan in the back of his throat.  He didn’t like where Vilkas’ questions were heading, and the call of the nature was the only excuse he could come up with as an excuse to walk away without hurting his Companion brother. Because it was exactly how it had been with Vilkas and Ria. He had been there when the two confessed their feelings at Ronnie’s birthday two years back, then there was that business with Morthal and an old flame of Vilkas’. They put that past them, but then she didn’t go with Vilkas when he left for the Vigilants, siding with Ronnie over the matter of Serana. And then, the awkwardness when Vilkas he returned after what happened to Ronnie at Snow-Throat. Now, he was Harbinger and he could only imagine how Ria felt as a member of the Circle.

   

  He knew he had messed up with Tavia, he didn’t need Vilkas rubbing that in his face, even if he had good intentions. Or Grulmar. Oh, please, may Grulmar not catch wind of this.

   

  “Are you hiding from Tilma?”

   

  He jumped after hearing a woman’s voice and looked to his left, noticing Serana standing few steps away from him. Oh, how he hated how silent she could be. “I wish,” he murmured, shaking his head.

   

  “Weeeeeeeeeee! Puppeeeeeeee!” something screamed with a high-pitched voice and Koor ran past Erik as if he just saw a rabbit. Then something came running after the dog, something that had two legs, blue skin and not even reaching Erik’s waist. “Pupppeeeee nooo ruuuun!” it screamed, waving its arms in the air like it was crazy.

   

  Erik just stared with wide eyes. “What in the blazes was that?”

   

  “That?” Serana raised her eyebrows, looking over her shoulder as the blue creature chased Koor over the tundra. “That’s Mahti. Grulmar’s pet.”

   

  Erik shook his head in disbelief. “Why am I not surprised? You can count on Grulmar to find himself something special. And it can talk. Oh, they are just made for each other.”

   

  Serana chuckled. “And do you know what the best part is? Mahti over there thinks Grulmar is his god.”

   

  Erik opened his mouth, struggling to keep his face straight until he erupted with laughter. “Grulmar...hahahaha! Now that is precious. You know what? Haha. Not even that surprises me, because that sounds exactly like Grulmar’s kind of bullshit.”

   

  “The Orc has a reputation,” she said, looking straight into Erik’s eyes, as if she was pondering something.

   

  “You hiding too?” Erik asked.

   

  The vampire tilted her head and the green eyes quickly went their vampiric orange. Erik wasn’t a stupid man, she was very beautiful today, the new indigo shirt very flattering to her figure, and  Erik saw the necklace made of the shard, how the stone was just at her cleavage. Her hair was done in her more formal style, with its two braids, leaving the rest of her hair loose and framing her ivory face. The lips were subtly stained with snowberry and he could smell the frost mirriam she used. He looked down, still wore trousers though, a supple, dark leather. The woman never wore a dress. Even Aela wore them more and that wasn’t saying much. “I am not like Tilma and Greir, very little use around the kitchen.” She then smiled, shaking her head slightly. “It suits you, you know. The way you carry yourself now, the humour and the confidence. It’s almost as if there was something of Decimus in you.” There was an approving nod. “Goldpact suits you.”

   

  Erik flashed his most charming smile at her. “My lady!” he said and took her hand, gently kissing it. “You flatter me.” He then extended her arm and took her by her slender waist, taking several dancing steps with her, grinning like an idiot during that, just as she did, which told him she didn’t mind. He danced her towards the homestead’s wall, pushing her against it. “But we have to be quick, my lady,” he winked seductively, “before Ronnie returns.”  

   

  Serana laughed out loud, her laughter ringing in Erik’s ears. She gently slapped him on his chest. “Cheeky. Even worse than Decimus!” She then leaned closer and purred in his ear: “But he at least knew when he had bit off more than he could chew.” With that, she easily freed herself from his grasp and gently pushed him away, making Erik trip and land flat on his arse with a chortle. She then turned around and gave him a full view of that toned leather-clad bottom. “One more thing,” she said, looking over her shoulder, her eyes dancing with mock-flirtation. “I don’t do quick.”

   

  Erik grasped his chest where his heart was and fell on his back, playing wounded and dead, which only made her laugh harder. “You’re terrible, Serana! So cruel!” he groaned playfully and she chuckled. She then helped him back to his feet, even dusting off his jacket in the process. “If only Ronnie heard us now,” Erik shook his head. “Or, heh, saw us.”

   

  “He’d be laughing his arse off,” she smiled warmly. “Now come on, I could use your help.”

   

  “I can still hope then?”

   

  “Haha, you don’t quit do you,” she shook her head, leading him towards a large round slab of wood lying on the ground.

   

  When Erik walked closer he noticed something carved into it and he immediately cracked up. “Ha! Is that Decimus’ mother?”

   

  “Grulmar insisted,” Serana shrugged, rolling her eyes, which were now back to being green. Erik wondered if she would keep them green the whole time. Depended on who came more than likely. Tavia knew, Vilkas and Aela knew, keeping the secret because Ronne was happy, but he didn’t know about the other guests. “He said that no party can happen without throwing knives, though I’m slightly worried someone might get stabbed. So, let’s put it somewhere more safe.”

   

  “Well, still don’t understand why you need me. You could carry that thing alone.”

   

  She smiled at him and stuck her tongue out. “But then you would feel useless and your newly gained ego would crumble.” Erik snorted at that and she shook her head. “We can at least talk while working, unless you can’t do two things at once?”

   

  “Very funny. Talk about what precisely?” the Nord murmured as he pushed his hand under the slab, lifting it a little and grunting as he lifted one side to the level of his waist, getting his crippled hand under the slab too.

   

  “About the Goldpact, for example. How’s that treating you?” Serana tilted her head and lifted the slab with one hand as if it weighed nothing, but Erik had to grunt since the weight was now even between him and Serana and she was much stronger than him.

   

  “It has its ups and downs,” he started, Serana led by walking backwards with the slab in her hand. “Like, I had few near-death situations, just because I was on my own. And even though it sounds funny, it’s not a bad thing, because Goldpact and Companions... two different...things. Shor’s Bones! Mamma’s put on some weight! Can we take a break?”

   

  “Sure,” she grinned and put the slab on the ground, like she was putting down a fucking pebble.  Erik leaned against it trying to catch his breath. That thing was damn heavy.

   

  “Companions have each other, rely on each other. When you’re Goldpact, you’re on your own,” Erik continued and raised his crippled hand. “I needed that, because of this. Teineeva wanted someone to ease my way into this whole Goldpact thing by having someone watch my back, but I said no. And I’m glad I did. By the way, Teineeva really hates being responsible for leading the Skyrim branch. Don’t understand why, since we mostly meet during winter and decide who takes which Hold or region. But yeah, those are the good things.”

   

  “And the bad? Don’t tell me it’s the women.”

   

  “Far from it,” he grinned and nodded, letting her know they could resume the hard work. He groaned as he lifted the slab and grimaced. “But no.” He grunted his words. “It’s the thing with the gold and all that. I still mutter prayers to Shor or Talos here and there, but mostly quietly now, because I just can’t worship gold like it’s some kind of god. Man has to believe in something, and I don’t blame them if it’s gold for them, but for me…” Erik shrugged and Serana motioned to a spot little bit away from the porch, towards a large boulder. They set the slab there and leaned it against the rock. “I guess that’s why my profit isn’t something extraordinary. If someone needs help, I usually only ask for enough to repair my stuff, buy provisions and such. Maybe I’m just stupid and naive, as would Grulmar say.”

   

  “You’re a good man, Erik,” she smiled and looked him in the eye. “Don’t ever change that. Don’t let others, be they Companions or Goldpact, change that. Be who you want to be.” She then chuckled, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. “At least, that’s what Ronnie would say, I think.”

   

  “He would always say that when he was Harbinger, ‘every man his own, every woman her own’. Be who you want to be,” the young Nord repeated, sighing. It was a good motto, but was there always a choice? “Can I ask you something?”

   

  “You don’t have to ask if you can ask, Erik,” Serana let out a dry chuckle, but her eyes weren’t not laughing anymore.

   

  “How is he? How is Ronnie?” He could see that the question made her face harden, aging her dramatically before his eyes. Still beautiful, but weighted. She blinked a few times and the muscles around her jaw tightened, but he needed to know, because he was worried about Äelberon. “When I last saw him… the episodes…”

   

  “It’s better,” she said quietly.

   

  “Your face doesn’t say it is.”

   

  “What would you rather hear me say?”

   

  “The truth.”

   

  She let out another sad laugh. “Well it seems, he has influenced you more than you know, Erik Talon-Hand. And that is a good thing too.” Serana faced Erik and Erik was surprised to see the wetness build around her eyes, the green fading again to that ancient vampiric glow. “He was once one person and… that person loved me.” She began. “But now he’s two; one still loves me deeply and the other… well, it doesn’t. The dragon in him, it only tolerates me.” Erik saw it then, the pale blackish tears and the vampire bit her lip to compose herself. “And when that dragon dominates, those are the hard days, Erik, because the passion, the excitement that was Ronnie dwells in that infernal beast, but that beast feels nothing for me, no matter how hard I try. And I try, because I love that beast too. But it talks of a time that I only barely understand, drinks, and mourns for what’s been lost to him, a dark vengeance consuming his great soul. He doesn’t touch me, and doesn’t let the Mer who still loves me touch me either. It sends nightmares, visions instead, so much hate.” She growled, shook her head and took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her cheek as if burying any traces of pain, her eyes returning to their Illusion’s green.  “But at the same time, he’s the warrior-poet’s soul, he’s the fire, the song that makes my Beron who he truly is. Yes, I say his name in your presence. You heard him speak his name for me once.”

   

  Erik nodded, remembering. “Yes, at Raldbthar. He said ‘Ana’.”

   

  “Yes. It’s difficult being treasured one day and then only tolerated the next. But, in many ways, that Dov is exactly how I used to be. I didn’t know either, I had to learn love too. And with patience, Beron taught me.” She chuckled, clearing her throat. “At least the dragon no longer tries to kill me, remember in the beginning in the Underforge?”

   

  “Aye, I remember.” Erik nodded soberly.

   

  “You and Vilkas were so good to him, I don’t think he will ever forget that. How Vilkas came back and you too for a time.  But, I was the only one who could hold him down, the only one who could contain that madness.” The chuckle turned into a laugh. “You know, when we first met, we tried to kill each other too? What a fight that had been. He in all his righteous glory, like golden sunshine. What a sanctimonious bastard, I didn’t know then what was underneath all that shine. He won by cheating, you know, stealing a kiss, the thief,” she playfully scoffed.

   

  Erik’s eyes widened. “He kissed you? While you two were fighting?”

   

  “Oh yes. Understand that I was trying to thrall him, not knowing that he was immune to Illusion. We were both fighting dirty. Aye, he kissed me, and then promptly head-butted me, cheating and winning that battle. I will not lie, though, I remembered that kiss, even when I kicked him square in the nuts later on, even when I returned to Castle Volkihar, I remembered that kiss. There was something in it that was…” she paused, thinking, “that was purest passion. And he’ll learn this again. All he can think on now is Alduin, and you know him, he doesn’t stop when he has a goal. This party is to force him to stop. To perhaps smile his smile once before he goes.” Another sigh. “And maybe, just maybe my Star-Knight will steal another kiss.” Her brow creased and she shrugged nonchalantly. “Or maybe not...depends on which one I get tonight. The Dov or the Mer.”  

   

  Erik was about to say some comforting words, maybe even try to say that he understood, but… he didn’t. He didn’t know what to say to that, to such… resignation in the face of the end of the world. Resignation that there was nothing they could do to really steer the outcome of what was to come. Up until now, he wasn’t realizing how much Äelberon needed this party. That reminder. Erik opened his mouth, wanting to say precisely that, when a creaking sound on the road interrupted him.

   

  They looked in the direction of the noise and noticed a wagon being pulled by two oxen, a wagon loaded with kegs full of ale, beer, and hopefully, even mead, all bearing the mark of the twin moons. Erik could see that Jon was steering the wagon and right next to him was sitting… “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured, looking at Serana with raised eyebrows. “Has the Jarl of Whiterun decided to change his occupation? Because I sure can see him with my own eyes delivering booze to this party right now, in very non-Jarl attire,” he added with a chuckle. “Though, Irileth doesn’t look very happy about that.”

   

  “Irileth never looks happy about anything, but Balgruuf? He’s not your regular Jarl. He almost looks like Jon’s older brother in that getup.” Serana said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and Erik lowered his gaze. He understood that. “At least he didn’t bring Proventus. How that little Imperial weasel sired Adrianne is beyond me.”

   

  “I know.” Erik took her around the shoulders and began pushing her towards the wagon. “It’s going to be alright, Serana. Trust me. This here will remind him what he is fighting for. Now let’s unload the kegs, so that we have something to toast with, hmm?”

   

  “I hope you’re right. Actually… Can I ask you for a favour first?” She asked, digging her heels to make him stop.

   

  Erik frowned, looking at her with confusion. “Favour?”

   

  She averted her gaze and looked almost sheepish, if a vampire could look sheepish. “Unrelated to Beron. I saw Farkas heading towards the hills earlier and… I think he’s angry.”

   

  “Well, kegs with mead just arrived and he’s not here to taste it, so that really is strange. Why would he be angry though?”

   

  Serana sighed, rubbing her eyes in the process and she relaxed her heels so he could continue pushing her. “Well, we might have…” she hesitated, “not told him about the party.”

   

  “Ah crap.”

   

  “Grulmar said we shouldn’t because he might slip and tell Beron.  And we were all so excited with the preparations we just didn’t consider Farkas’ feelings about this. The consequences of not telling him.”

   

  The young Nord ran his fingers through his ginger hair with long inhale drawn through his nose, and even longer exhale. “It’s not like you’re all adults, right?”

   

  “I know! It would be easy just to blame the Bungler - though from what I’ve heard he didn’t pull any punches when Farkas confronted him earlier. Just look at it this way, it’s very clear Beron doesn’t know about this party, because you know he’d be marching me and Grulmar right up to Farkas like we were naughty children and make us apologize. He’s definitely done that before, remember Windhelm?”

   

  “So you want me to talk with Farkas?”

   

  She smiled and gave him a seductive look, batting her eyelashes.  “If you’d be so kind.”

   

  “How can I say no to such a smile, right?” Erik chuckled and shook his head. “So which way did he go?”

   

  Serana pointed towards the hills to the west and Erik began walking in that direction, still shaking his head. It almost felt like one of those moments of the past, when he had to go talk to someone because Grulmar was an asshole.

   

  Well...some things never change apparently.

   

  But this wasn’t just on Grulmar. Others were to blame too, because they had their own minds and opinions, they didn’t have to follow Grulmar’s ideas like sheep led to slaughter. She was right, Ronnie wouldn’t have tolerated it. And if he found out that Farkas had been hurt? He knew exactly what Ronnie would do, he’d turn right around, walk back to Whiterun, and there’d be no party. All because one brother was hurt.

   

  But that was the thing with the Orc, sometimes he just needed a proper NO followed by a slap to prevent hurt like that from happening. It was like Grulmar didn’t see. Farkas had all the right to know about the party after all, he was Äelberon’s kin. Farkas’ damn kid was named after him for Shor’s sake. Still… Erik couldn’t really get mad at Serana, Greir, and all the others. They were excited, and worried that Äelberon would find out about the party.  So they kept it a secret from Farkas, who, as Erik heard, had been working with the Altmer on the trap in Dragonsreach, as well as spending lot of time in Jorrvaskr.

   

  That was actually the other big news. Vilkas was the new Harbinger of Companions, Äelberon passing that mantle to him just a week ago. It was almost funny how everyone felt the need to tell Erik when he arrived, and if he had to be honest with himself, Vilkas was perfect for that job, now especially. But in Erik’s mind, just like Vilkas even said earlier, there was only one Harbinger. The Mer who helped him, both of them, survive. The Mer who told everyone to follow their own paths.

   

  The Nord then snorted, shrugging. Life keeps going forward no matter how hard you want to it to stay still. Everything keeps changing, progressing. His eyes darted towards his hand, still somewhat fascinated by his own stiff fingers he couldn’t even feel. The hand was scarred, the fingers bearing scars from scraped-off skin and burns. Erik was damn clumsy with the hand at first, the fact he couldn’t even feel it making it even worse. But he managed. Still, this is a change I could have lived without, but it did offer a new perspective, did it not? It was difficult to say where he would be if his hand was still healthy. Maybe I’d still believe Ulfric is the hero and not the Mer who smacked me at Anga’s Mill, he snorted.

   

  He climbed up a rocky slope and sure enough he found Farkas there, the bulky Companion throwing stones into the distance, each swing of his arm accompanied by a grunt. He turned around when he heard Erik’s footsteps and the younger Nord could see the smirk through the thickening beard. The belly had certainly grown, which made Farkas raise his eyebrows.

   

  “Ronnie calls it ‘sympathy weight gain.’ It’s bullshit, I got fat, but I can still lick you.” Erik didn’t doubt that for an instant. The older Nord sighed, scratching his beard. “So you’re the envoy sent here to negotiate with me?” Farkas snorted and then shrugged with a chuckle, stooping to pick up another handful of stones. “I expected Greir or even the Captain of Jorrvaskr coming here to beat some sense into my head with the magic stirring spoon of eminent humiliation.”

   

  “I could go back and bring her here if that’s what it takes,” Erik chuckled, sitting down on a boulder. “Magic stirring spoon of eminent humiliation?’

   

  Farkas threw a stone. “Sounds like a real artifact, doesn’t it?”

   

  “Actually, it kind of does.” Erik gestured towards the ‘stead. “Jarl Balgruuf just drove a wagon of booze to the ‘stead and I was surprised you weren’t there to taste the new batch.”

   

  Farkas turned around, raising his eyebrows. He then pointed at the ground and when Erik leaned forward so that he could see around a rock obscuring his vision, he saw a bottle of mead lying there. “Got my own stash here.”

   

  “You planning on spending the rest of the night here then?”

   

  “It’s only one bottle, Erik. Pff. Of course not. I’m going to cool down soon, can’t be mad for very long. It’s Ronnie’s party and he doesn’t know either. Just wanted to enjoy it why it lasts, but didn’t want to snap at someone, or snap someone in half.” He threw another stone down the hill and looked over his shoulder at Erik. “Does that make sense?”

   

  “Kind of. Do you want to talk about it or would you rather just throw stones into the air?”

   

  “Well, maybe it helps me think. About ways to kill that fucking Orc, for example.”

   

  “Sorry to give you the bad news, Farkas, but… Get in line,” the ginger smirked.

   

  Farkas chuckled, dropped the stones, and picked up the bottle. He plopped down on the flatter boulder opposite to Erik. He opened the bottle and took few sips, smacking his lips after that. He offered the bottle to Erik who gladly accepted and took a proper swig. “Very good batch this one. Not too sweet, but not too strong either. Lucky Moons?”

   

  “Yeah, the last batch before the…” Farkas started and then hesitated for a second, narrowing his eyes. “Attack. But they recovered, though no thanks to Maven still trying to screw them over. Black Briar will never taste like this, try as she may. Something very special about this mead. Something I think only Ronnie will ever know.”

   

  Yes, the attacks. The reason why Äelberon had gone to Solstheim. So many lives lost only to get the Dragonborn’s attention, but that was the thing with mad cultists blowing themselves up, wasn’t it? They were beyond a common man’s reasoning. Erik himself was at Fort Dawnguard when the strange men came there, spouting some nonsense about false Dragonborns and then they proceeded to turn most of the outer palisade to ash. The guards didn’t make it, but thanks to their paranoia, the cultists weren’t able to reach the fort itself. The Dawnguard - and the Goldpact - were lucky in that way. Others not so much. Torvar, Njada, the Ragged Flagon...

   

  He took another sip of the mead and then handed it over back to Farkas with a sigh. “No other option but to keep moving forward though. Even if it hurts.”

   

  “It hurts Ronnie sure enough. Still blames himself for all that.”

   

  Of course he does. It’s in his nature. “It wasn’t his fault. There was nothing he could do.”

   

  “Tell that to him,” Farkas raised his eyebrows, flashing a sad smile before pouring the mead down his throat. He then looked at Erik and grimaced. “Look, I get it, that they didn’t tell me. I was helping him at Dragonsreach, big chance I could slip. But damn it, I can keep a secret. Vilkas knew for sure, Jarl Balgruuf too and he was at Dragonsreach the entire time as well - it’s sort of his job after all.” He then scratched the top of his head. “It just hurts, that I wasn’t included in all this. I could have helped. I know they didn’t mean to hurt me, this rational part of myself knows that, but the other just can’t help but think that maybe they just didn’t want my help, that I’m just baggage to them. Which is funny because Ronnie has never once seen me like that. Even when I screwed up in front of him at Dustman’s. He even let me help him with the trap. Me, help him. Apparently, I saw something that he didn’t see with the calculations and it allowed the chains to work. They work, Erik, and he said it was because of me, says I got a real knack for numbers. Me, the icebrain. But the mind is a funny thing, right?”

   

  “It seems you have given it plenty of thought,” Erik chuckled, looking to the west, watching the sun slowly descending. No more than two hours and it would set and that’s when Äelberon would be coming back. “That rational part of you,” he then said, looking back at Farkas. “That’s the one who’s right. You’re not a baggage, brother. You’re just an honest person and you have no idea how rare that is these days.”

   

  “Maybe I’m just too stupid to lie,” Farkas sneered.

   

  “Did you finish the bottle? If not, then finish it, so I can break it over your head,” Erik narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth at the other Nord. “You don’t like to lie, so maybe they didn’t want to put you into a situation where you would have to, especially to Ronnie.”

   

  “I told you I know that, you smartass,” the Companion chuckled, handing the bottle back to Erik. “I just needed to cool off, let out some steam. He’s like a brother to me and it hurt. Don’t make me let it out on you though.”

   

  “You could try,” the ginger grinned.

   

  Farkas rubbed his beard and his eyes snapped. “Well, that sounds like a challenge from a boy with milk still on his chin. Maybe later, boy. Now let’s go look at the new batch Jarl Balgruuf so kindly brought here.”

   

  Erik smiled and shook his head. There was one undeniable truth about the man in front of him. If Vilkas was the head of the Jorrvaskr then Farkas was its heart, and it was one damn big heart.

   

  Skyrim could use more of those.