“Then we’ll just have to do things the hard way,” he said. “Have the healer look at you, and I’ll plan an attack.”
“Wait,” Dyce said. “I have a plan.”
Galmar nodded to show he was listening.
“Give me a horn. Take our forces back into the well. I’ll take care of the fort. When you hear the horn, then you can mop up.”
“You’re going to assault the fort on your own?” Galmar asked.
Dyce shook his head, damp strands of hair hanging before his bloodshot eyes. “Not alone.”
The sun rose over the Rift, glowing white on the low lying fog that hung over the hot springs in the nearby valleys. The birds had only just begun their morning chorus when the Imperial sentries noticed Dyce making his way towards the gates of the Fort. Just out of range of their arrows he halted, and bared his teeth.
The birds were silenced as a call that echoed off the near mountains.
OD AH VIING
Dyce extended a gloved hand towards the fort as the morning sun flashed red off the drake’s gleaming scales, and the dragon’s shriek pierced the heavens.
“Sic ‘em.”
~~~ “And Ralof?”
“His lung needs to recover. The last time I saw him he was raring to get back into the fight. A week or two, the healers say.”
Ulfric nodded. “I see. Without Fort Greenwall to protect Riften, Maven will have to accept that she cannot hold the city herself. I can afford to be diplomatic, for now. You’ve done well, Dragonborn.”
“Jarl Ulfric,” Dyce raised his head. “I don’t think I want a new nickname this time.”
“Very well. Dismissed, Dragonborn.”
Dyce didn’t go far. He expected Ulfric would want to see him again quite soon, so he parked himself in one of the upstairs rooms, waved at a guard so they’d know he was there, and propped his elbows on a stone windowsill and watched the snow piling up against the leadlight glass.
Ralof was going to be all right, he reminded himself. This time. They shouldn’t have assumed the Imperials hadn’t investigated the well the way the Stormcloaks had when they’d held the fort. Dyce knew it was pointless going over it now, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it.
He fought alone. He always did. He was quiet and quick, and charging into battle screaming at the top of one’s lungs was nothing more than a shortcut to Sovngarde, as far as he was concerned. But that’s what they wanted him to do. That’s what they needed him to do. The fact that the Dragonborn now fought under Stormcloak colours had seen the number of recruits presenting themselves to Galmar rise sharply.
They were fighting because he was. Nords and their bloody hero worship. There was no doubt that some of these people were going to die. And if it hadn’t been for Dyce they wouldn’t have fought in the first place. And he’d thought fighting Alduin had been an unbearable responsibility. The end of the world had been an abstract thing; he’d fought for Tamriel as a concept, and against the dragons as an immediate and present danger.
His actions saved people. In war it was the opposite; you worked to put people in harm’s way. It went against every instinct he had.
He realised something had changed about the window he stared out of. Dyce narrowed his eyes to focus on the faint reflection of the room behind him in the glass, the reflection that was now almost entirely obscured by a large, Nord-shaped silhouette.
“What didn’t Galmar put in his report, Dyce?”
“Nothing he actually knew, Jarl Ulfric,” Dyce said. “I’m sure his report is accurate.”
“As far as it goes,” Ulfric said. “You are going to tell me what happened.”
Dyce turned his head slightly. “Do you have any rooms without ears?”
Dyce was obliged to put his cloak and gloves back on, and he and Ulfric paced the battlements of the Palace of Kings, on the sheltered side, looking along the snow clad valley in the general direction of Whiterun. Above them low hanging clouds, thick and round with promises of snow, scudded endlessly off the sea.
“Galmar says only that you assaulted an entire fort and by the time they received the signal the only Imperial troops left alive were inside the fortress itself.”
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timeasmymeasure
What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 14/??
Date: 2013-02-10 12:06 am (UTC)“Then we’ll just have to do things the hard way,” he said. “Have the healer look at you, and I’ll plan an attack.”
“Wait,” Dyce said. “I have a plan.”
Galmar nodded to show he was listening.
“Give me a horn. Take our forces back into the well. I’ll take care of the fort. When you hear the horn, then you can mop up.”
“You’re going to assault the fort on your own?” Galmar asked.
Dyce shook his head, damp strands of hair hanging before his bloodshot eyes. “Not alone.”
The sun rose over the Rift, glowing white on the low lying fog that hung over the hot springs in the nearby valleys. The birds had only just begun their morning chorus when the Imperial sentries noticed Dyce making his way towards the gates of the Fort. Just out of range of their arrows he halted, and bared his teeth.
The birds were silenced as a call that echoed off the near mountains.
OD AH VIING
Dyce extended a gloved hand towards the fort as the morning sun flashed red off the drake’s gleaming scales, and the dragon’s shriek pierced the heavens.
“Sic ‘em.”
~~~
“And Ralof?”
“His lung needs to recover. The last time I saw him he was raring to get back into the fight. A week or two, the healers say.”
Ulfric nodded. “I see. Without Fort Greenwall to protect Riften, Maven will have to accept that she cannot hold the city herself. I can afford to be diplomatic, for now. You’ve done well, Dragonborn.”
“Jarl Ulfric,” Dyce raised his head. “I don’t think I want a new nickname this time.”
“Very well. Dismissed, Dragonborn.”
Dyce didn’t go far. He expected Ulfric would want to see him again quite soon, so he parked himself in one of the upstairs rooms, waved at a guard so they’d know he was there, and propped his elbows on a stone windowsill and watched the snow piling up against the leadlight glass.
Ralof was going to be all right, he reminded himself. This time. They shouldn’t have assumed the Imperials hadn’t investigated the well the way the Stormcloaks had when they’d held the fort. Dyce knew it was pointless going over it now, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it.
He fought alone. He always did. He was quiet and quick, and charging into battle screaming at the top of one’s lungs was nothing more than a shortcut to Sovngarde, as far as he was concerned. But that’s what they wanted him to do. That’s what they needed him to do. The fact that the Dragonborn now fought under Stormcloak colours had seen the number of recruits presenting themselves to Galmar rise sharply.
They were fighting because he was. Nords and their bloody hero worship. There was no doubt that some of these people were going to die. And if it hadn’t been for Dyce they wouldn’t have fought in the first place. And he’d thought fighting Alduin had been an unbearable responsibility. The end of the world had been an abstract thing; he’d fought for Tamriel as a concept, and against the dragons as an immediate and present danger.
His actions saved people. In war it was the opposite; you worked to put people in harm’s way. It went against every instinct he had.
He realised something had changed about the window he stared out of. Dyce narrowed his eyes to focus on the faint reflection of the room behind him in the glass, the reflection that was now almost entirely obscured by a large, Nord-shaped silhouette.
“What didn’t Galmar put in his report, Dyce?”
“Nothing he actually knew, Jarl Ulfric,” Dyce said. “I’m sure his report is accurate.”
“As far as it goes,” Ulfric said. “You are going to tell me what happened.”
Dyce turned his head slightly. “Do you have any rooms without ears?”
Dyce was obliged to put his cloak and gloves back on, and he and Ulfric paced the battlements of the Palace of Kings, on the sheltered side, looking along the snow clad valley in the general direction of Whiterun. Above them low hanging clouds, thick and round with promises of snow, scudded endlessly off the sea.
“Galmar says only that you assaulted an entire fort and by the time they received the signal the only Imperial troops left alive were inside the fortress itself.”