They had reached Falkreath Hold somewhere around 8 hours ago, if Ulfric’s reading of the sun’s position was correct, and were now nearing The Pale Pass, Ulfric noted. ‘Probably want to parade me in front of the Emperor. There are too many guards, there’s no way we can escape and the closer we’ll get to Cyrodiil, the smaller our chances will be’. Ulfric was brought out of his reverie by the sound of swords being unsheathed and bows being drawn. There were two dull thuds, followed by swords being sheathed and bows being unstrung. ‘What is going on? That didn’t sound like local wildlife being killed!’.
“Exchange her clothes for prison rags, Stormcloak scum shouldn’t be wearing niceties” Tullius ordered. Ulfric growled behind his gag, ‘her clothes? They captured a woman? If they captured another Stormcloak, she’d be wearing armour, not fancy clothes, besides there was no reason for a lone Stormcloak to wander around Falkreath Hold. Why would they exchange her clothes out here? Who in Oblivion did they capture? She must have tried crossing the border’. Thought after thought filled Ulfric’s mind. He could see his men were curious as well, all of them trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.
Moments later a young woman was thrown rather forcefully onto the cart. Ulfric glared at the Imperial who manhandled the woman. ‘Beasts! She’s already unconscious, there’s no need to manhandle her any further!’ “She’s not a Stormcloak!” Ralof tried to defend her. “It doesn’t matter who or what she is”, General Tullius said from atop his horse. “Of course it matters! She’s innocent!” one of the soldiers from the other cart tried. “Not likely” was Tullius’ reply. “The Thalmor ordered her death”. Ulfric’s eyes widened slightly, ‘the Thalmor? What could such a young woman possibly have done to warrant a death sentence from them?’. He watched as Ralof attempted to seat the woman slightly more comfortably, before ripping a piece of cloth from his cuirass to gently dab at the bleeding wound on her head. ‘Whoever hit her, had done so excessively hard. She looks young, perhaps around 25, certainly no older than 30. Nord by the looks of it. Her skin looks soft, yet her muscles are obviously developed as though she’s a trained warrior. Maybe she returned to Skyrim to join my army? Wrong place, wrong time young one. But what did you do to piss off the Thalmor?’ That question really intrigued Ulfric, though he would probably never know the answer.
The horse thief watched the young woman intently, obviously impressed by the curves revealed by the rough spun tunic she was forced into. ‘Filthy thief! Leering at an unconscious woman, disgraceful!’ A fierce glare from the Jarl and an elbow jabbed into his side by Ralof turned his lecherous gaze away. ‘It’s good to see my soldiers remain honourable even in a situation like this’.
It was only now that Ulfric realised they had not followed The Pale Pass, instead they were headed towards Helgen. ‘Where are you taking us Tullius? Was this a detour to capture the woman? Did you know she would cross the border here, today? If we’re not headed for Cyrodiil then are you taking us to Solitude after all? That leaves more time for opportunities to escape. By now Galmar will know something happened, maybe he’s working out a rescue attempt. If so, I’ll definitely never hear the end of this fiasco. The Jarl of Windhelm, future High King of Skyrim, rescued by his Housecarl who had told him so… Oh well… it would be better than death’.
Inner thoughts of a rebellious Jarl (3/6)
“Exchange her clothes for prison rags, Stormcloak scum shouldn’t be wearing niceties” Tullius ordered. Ulfric growled behind his gag, ‘her clothes? They captured a woman? If they captured another Stormcloak, she’d be wearing armour, not fancy clothes, besides there was no reason for a lone Stormcloak to wander around Falkreath Hold. Why would they exchange her clothes out here? Who in Oblivion did they capture? She must have tried crossing the border’. Thought after thought filled Ulfric’s mind. He could see his men were curious as well, all of them trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.
Moments later a young woman was thrown rather forcefully onto the cart. Ulfric glared at the Imperial who manhandled the woman. ‘Beasts! She’s already unconscious, there’s no need to manhandle her any further!’ “She’s not a Stormcloak!” Ralof tried to defend her. “It doesn’t matter who or what she is”, General Tullius said from atop his horse. “Of course it matters! She’s innocent!” one of the soldiers from the other cart tried. “Not likely” was Tullius’ reply. “The Thalmor ordered her death”. Ulfric’s eyes widened slightly, ‘the Thalmor? What could such a young woman possibly have done to warrant a death sentence from them?’.
He watched as Ralof attempted to seat the woman slightly more comfortably, before ripping a piece of cloth from his cuirass to gently dab at the bleeding wound on her head. ‘Whoever hit her, had done so excessively hard. She looks young, perhaps around 25, certainly no older than 30. Nord by the looks of it. Her skin looks soft, yet her muscles are obviously developed as though she’s a trained warrior. Maybe she returned to Skyrim to join my army? Wrong place, wrong time young one. But what did you do to piss off the Thalmor?’ That question really intrigued Ulfric, though he would probably never know the answer.
The horse thief watched the young woman intently, obviously impressed by the curves revealed by the rough spun tunic she was forced into. ‘Filthy thief! Leering at an unconscious woman, disgraceful!’ A fierce glare from the Jarl and an elbow jabbed into his side by Ralof turned his lecherous gaze away. ‘It’s good to see my soldiers remain honourable even in a situation like this’.
It was only now that Ulfric realised they had not followed The Pale Pass, instead they were headed towards Helgen. ‘Where are you taking us Tullius? Was this a detour to capture the woman? Did you know she would cross the border here, today? If we’re not headed for Cyrodiil then are you taking us to Solitude after all? That leaves more time for opportunities to escape. By now Galmar will know something happened, maybe he’s working out a rescue attempt. If so, I’ll definitely never hear the end of this fiasco. The Jarl of Windhelm, future High King of Skyrim, rescued by his Housecarl who had told him so… Oh well… it would be better than death’.