Posted by
Paul M December 9, 2014 -
639 views
Fredas, 24th of Frostfall, and I have a feeling today will be the last day of the Stormcloak rebellion. In the early morning gloom I saddle up Bono and take the path east from Fort Amol before fording the river at Mixwater Mill. My aim is to report back to the imperial camp in the far east, which I'm hoping will confirm that the only target left to eliminate is old Ulfric himself.
The dragon that has been a menacing presence during my whole time in these volcanic lands finally notices Bono and I, but handily we had just passed an encampment of giants before he did. Leading the dragon back in that direction Bono and I are able to watch in relative comfort as they pulverize the grisly lizard. I get the sense when they're done that this dragon was a significant bother to the people of Windhelm, and his death might now attract a reward beyond the now standard dragon soul. I make a mental note and continue east.
A bear with a bad attitude knocks Bono and I over some rocks as we near the dwarven ruins discovered yesterday, and while dispatching him I get the feeling I may have broken a bone somewhere. I jog it off before getting back on Bono, who proceeds to limp his way back to camp. Our efforts are rewarded though: the battle of Windhelm begins now! Or at least it will once I've traipsed back the way I've just come. It's a shame the Legate couldn't have broken camp and met us in Fort Amol, but anyway, what's done is done.
As I ride back to Mixwater Mill I ponder whether to go to Whiterun and grab Lydia for this last battle. She's a little naive when it comes to military strategy, but she was with me at Fellglow Keep when we resolved to strengthen the empire by whatever means necessary. She should be with me at the end, I decide, and I turn west to go pick her up.
It's about 2:30 in the afternoon by the time Bono has limped her way back to Whiterun stables, and I dash into town to buy some ingredients with which to make some healing tonics for the coming battle, and to find Lydia. She is easy enough to find, having moved in to my sparsely furnished home just by the main gate of town. By the time I'm done turning base ingredients into useful potions or gold though it's 5pm, which means if we leave for Windhelm now the final battle will take place in the dark. I think even the General wouldn't be keen to take that approach, as in the chaos of the moonlit battlefield there's no telling what could happen. No, Lydia and I will spend one last night in Whiterun before wetting our swords with Stormcloak blood for hopefully the last time.
So we head out early on Loredas and follow the road east. There is little grief for us in doing so, possibly because we have trodden this path many times before and done away with all those who would do us harm. We pass some Stormcloaks hanging around at Mixwater Mill, but they don't seem to want to fight us, and Lydia and I leave them be. We arrive at Windhelm soon after, to see the stables and the bridge into town are on fire. Both Lydia and I are reminded of the harm Ulfric sought to inflict on Whiterun, and the sorrow of the king's widow in Solitude. War never changes, I guess, and that unfortunately means Lydia and I must become the destroyers and the marauders if it will bring this killing to an end.
The General stands at the gate and gives a speech that lasts slightly too long, and then we rush in. The battle in the streets is frantic, as the Stormcloaks have placed barriers around the city to funnel the fighting into narrow passages where my destructive flame bursts cause as much harm as aid to our side. Eventually I manage to get behind most of the enemy using my ice shout to hold them still while I dash past. From that position I then leave the foot soldiers to the fighting and make for the palace.
The General and Legate Rikke also make it to the final confrontation, so I let Tulius take the lead. Ulfric sits passively, disgustingly unmoved by all the violence about him, leaving the mighty axe wilder Galmar to fight his battle. Galmar makes a bee line for me, but I'm armed with a poisoned sword of elf fire which means he doesn't cause me much bother. By the time I've seen to him, Tulius and Rikke have dealt with the rebel Jarl. Ulfric surrenders, but asks for me to lay the killing blow, naming me the dragonborn. I'm sick of it all though: sick of the lives wasted by Ulfric's vanity and intolerance, and this miserable rebellion, so I refuse the request. Nothing happens, but then as I pick up a sweet roll from the palace table, decked out for a lavish banquet while the city burned, Rikke kills Ulfric, and the war is over.
Outside the General gives a speech, all chest thumping and victory, but I'm just numb. The dwarven armor I've donned feels tight and heavy compared to my usual mage robes, and the ash from the burning city stings my eyes. Lydia comes over to console me and bring me back to myself, and it works, making me glad I took the detour to Whiterun to collect her. I sheath my sword, take off my armor, and then head to the local inn to see if they can provide me a warm room and a sturdy bed to collect my thoughts together.
