She was out there somewhere, he was sure of it. Probably nearer to Windhelm than he was happy with. He didn't think it was coincidence the dragons had vanished all at once like this. And there were other reports too. A stray goat turning up at Hollyfrost Farm, clearly tame but not belonging to anyone nearby. Then the following night it had vanished again, and the snow melted in a neat path leading south along the road until the snowline was the only thing to mark its passing. Scouts and patrols were disappearing, and while Ulfric knew there was an Imperial presence somewhere in the Velothi foothills, the disappearances were increasing of late. He'd had hardly any news out of Riften recently, and nothing from Darkwater Crossing. For all he knew there could be an army camped out on the Aalto – not that he could see anything on the plain, but the Imperials were cunning.
And then there was the Great Soul Gem Shortage. A small thing, a seeming curiosity, of more concern to wizards and mages than true Nords, but Wuunferth had been furious at his entire supply going missing, and his Stone of Barenziah too, and enquiries had revealed everyone else who owned any had had theirs stolen too. Valuable items left largely untouched for the most part, but the soul gems? Gone. Didn't matter what size or if they were filled or not, they all vanished regardless.
Ulfric was damn near positive this was Elisif's doing somehow, but damned if he could work out why. Wuunferth had been no help whatsoever, merely saying that perhaps someone wanted to enchant an entire army's weapons, either that or set up soul gem traps to guard somewhere. Apparently mages liked to prime the things so they'd automatically cast Destruction spells at intruders, which was a possibility, but who would want so many? And guarding what?
He'd send runners to the College of Winterhold to ask their opinion, but as with the scouts to the south, they'd disappeared. He'd sent couriers on board ship, but the East Empire's ships all seemed to fall victim to the Blood Horkers whenever one of his men travelled with them, and when he'd tried one of Shatter-Shield's, the courier had sheepishly come back having had the letters stolen from him.
Someone was sabotaging his communications. Someone had stolen every soul gem in the city for magical purposes as yet unknown. Someone had dealt with the dragons.
Just as someone had got to his crown first despite Galmar swearing no one else could have known it was there, and someone had escaped from both Cidhna Mine, which Thonar had always said was an unbreakable fortress that no one got out of, and then from the Forsworn who couldn't possibly have let the beautiful young Queen of the Nords go voluntarily.
She'd even wiped out the Dark Brotherhood, and that story had had tankards raised in her name in his own city. Quietly, but they'd been raised.
Ulfric was beginning to wonder if he was going mad.
“Galmar,” he said quietly. “Do you think we're doing the right thing? By Skyrim, I mean. With the war.”
“What are you talking about?” Galmar scoffed, then he realised his Jarl was serious. “By the Nine, Ulfric, of course we're doing the right thing. Those witch-elves would have us grovelling at their feet and thanking them for the pleasure if we let them! We need to prove true Nords won't stand to be pushed around! The Empire's weak, Ulfric. We'll bring the whole rotten edifice crashing down and then we'll take the fight to the Dominion. Of course we're doing the right thing.”
Ulfric thought of the dreams, of Elenwen, of Markarth, of the wildman they called Madanach, eyes hollow and broken when they'd finally hauled the usurping, Jarl-killing bastard out of that filthy redoubt and off to prison. Of Torygg dying as Ulfric's sword skewered him, looking confused and personally betrayed as the light died out of his eyes, and Elisif screaming like some wild animal, all sanity and reason gone. Of Elisif the Dragonborn calling him a murderer and backing away like he was some sort of monster.
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 29.13
And then there was the Great Soul Gem Shortage. A small thing, a seeming curiosity, of more concern to wizards and mages than true Nords, but Wuunferth had been furious at his entire supply going missing, and his Stone of Barenziah too, and enquiries had revealed everyone else who owned any had had theirs stolen too. Valuable items left largely untouched for the most part, but the soul gems? Gone. Didn't matter what size or if they were filled or not, they all vanished regardless.
Ulfric was damn near positive this was Elisif's doing somehow, but damned if he could work out why. Wuunferth had been no help whatsoever, merely saying that perhaps someone wanted to enchant an entire army's weapons, either that or set up soul gem traps to guard somewhere. Apparently mages liked to prime the things so they'd automatically cast Destruction spells at intruders, which was a possibility, but who would want so many? And guarding what?
He'd send runners to the College of Winterhold to ask their opinion, but as with the scouts to the south, they'd disappeared. He'd sent couriers on board ship, but the East Empire's ships all seemed to fall victim to the Blood Horkers whenever one of his men travelled with them, and when he'd tried one of Shatter-Shield's, the courier had sheepishly come back having had the letters stolen from him.
Someone was sabotaging his communications. Someone had stolen every soul gem in the city for magical purposes as yet unknown. Someone had dealt with the dragons.
Just as someone had got to his crown first despite Galmar swearing no one else could have known it was there, and someone had escaped from both Cidhna Mine, which Thonar had always said was an unbreakable fortress that no one got out of, and then from the Forsworn who couldn't possibly have let the beautiful young Queen of the Nords go voluntarily.
She'd even wiped out the Dark Brotherhood, and that story had had tankards raised in her name in his own city. Quietly, but they'd been raised.
Ulfric was beginning to wonder if he was going mad.
“Galmar,” he said quietly. “Do you think we're doing the right thing? By Skyrim, I mean. With the war.”
“What are you talking about?” Galmar scoffed, then he realised his Jarl was serious. “By the Nine, Ulfric, of course we're doing the right thing. Those witch-elves would have us grovelling at their feet and thanking them for the pleasure if we let them! We need to prove true Nords won't stand to be pushed around! The Empire's weak, Ulfric. We'll bring the whole rotten edifice crashing down and then we'll take the fight to the Dominion. Of course we're doing the right thing.”
Ulfric thought of the dreams, of Elenwen, of Markarth, of the wildman they called Madanach, eyes hollow and broken when they'd finally hauled the usurping, Jarl-killing bastard out of that filthy redoubt and off to prison. Of Torygg dying as Ulfric's sword skewered him, looking confused and personally betrayed as the light died out of his eyes, and Elisif screaming like some wild animal, all sanity and reason gone. Of Elisif the Dragonborn calling him a murderer and backing away like he was some sort of monster.