Skyrim: A Craftman's Journey

4E 201, Dragonsreach Dungeon

Jarl of Whiterun

There was no day or night for the denizens of the Dragonsreach Dungeon, only the flickering of torches and the idle chattering of the guards accompanied the many poor souls that found themselves home to the cold and damp cells.

Balgruuf walked through the hallways, Irileth by his side, as he moved towards the guard quarters.

Ideally, a man of his station would never step foot in this kind of place. But Hrongar had sent word that they were close to cracking open the man that had snuck inside the palace and took Nelkir hostage.

While Balgruuf is confident that Hrongar is more than capable of extracting that information and would bring him whatever news he learns of in a more proper setting, Balgruuf would rather hear it straight from the source.

Whiterun has received many changes these past few months. The bulwark of central Skyrim had swelled with refugees. Their victory over the dragon that attacked Whiterun Hold had rippled across the land, filling his gates with frightened families, travelers, and opportunists alike. 

The fact that even Windhelm failed spooked many into seeking safety where it could be found. Most of them came from non-walled settlements, like Riverwood and the survivors of Rorikstead, while others were from the other Holds in Skyrim.

The sheer number was staggering—seventy-five thousand souls now crammed inside the walls, boosted from their original sixty thousand. 

The one good thing that came from this was that the defenses were bolstered in kind. Thousands of more men were recruited, swelling his army to eight thousand men, with more than half of them trained by the day as archers. Ballistas were lining the walls in equal measures, and Dragonsreach were undergoing a renovation, and the ancient dragon trap atop Dragonsreach was being restored.

They didn't lack for food, though randomly taking in unknown people with unknown backgrounds was a recipe for disaster. Irileth had suggested that the gates be reinforced, the process of entering the city became stricter.

Anyone coming in or out will be under heavy scrutiny, names and numbers written down for Proventus and his scribes to tally. 

It was a good thing too, since a problem came in not four days after this new rule was implemented. 

Balgruuf scowled as he recalled the Alik'r warriors demanding entry days prior, hunting some supposed fugitive that had been hiding in Whiterun for years. Suffice to say, they weren't let in, especially since the Alik'r refused to part with their weapons. 

For now, they were all camped outside the gates, alongside the travelling Khajiit Caravan that always stops by. Aside from that, the only other interesting thing that happened was the Orc man who claimed to seek recruits for an order called the Dawnguard.

They arrived in the guard quarters as Irileth stepped forward and opened the doors to allow Balgruuf to enter the quarters, startling every guard currently inside. Most were lounging around, but he could see a few here and there sitting on the floor with cards and coins strewn about.

"Jarl Balgruuf!" They started in surprise as they quickly fumbled to become respectable for their jarl. The ones on the floor immediately kicked a pack of cards underneath a bed while another threw a blanket over the rest. "We–!"

"At ease." Balgruuf said with amusement. While it was indeed unbecoming for the palace guards to partake in such activities, he could close his eyes this once. He had graver concerns to deal with. "I'm here to see Hrongar, where is he?"

One of the men, Orys if Balgruuf remembered, straightened. "The Master-at-arms is with Commander Caius and Esgard, my Jarl. Interrogating the spy."

Balgruuf nodded. "Take me to them." 

Orys led Balgruuf and Irileth down a narrow staircase and a long hallway—far and deep enough for the screams of the tortured to not be heard above the surface—until they reached an iron wrought door.

At the final door, Orys opened it, and the stench of blood greeted them.

The spy was a wretched sight. A Bosmer, frail and wiry, stripped to the waist, his skin marred by cuts, bruises, and dried blood. His lips quivered, teeth missing, his wrists shackled to the chair.

'It seems Esgard has done his job.' 

The thin and wiry Keeper of the Cells was the one responsible in making the spy amiable for questioning. Only when his spirits were broken would Hrongar and Caius start the interrogation.

It was a tried and tested method for eras and centuries, one that Balgruuf did not hesitate to use to unearth this plot that involved sneaking into his own keep in the middle of the night.

Hrongar and Caius merely gave him a look of slight surprise before nodding. They understood enough why he wanted to be here.

Hrongar began, voice firm. "Name."

The Bosmer's head lolled weakly. "O-Orsin… m'lord." 

His voice was ragged after a whole week spent in the dungeons, only given a small cup of cheap ale to drink everyday. Balgruuf was content to stand in the dark corner, just listening while Hrongar and Caius did their job.

"Who do you work for?"

"The Thieves Guild, m'lord." the newly introduced Orsin revealed, drawing an immediate, collective inhale from the room.

"What does the Thieves Guild have to do with Dragonsreach and the ruling family of Whiterun?" Hrongar pressed, stepping closer. "What was your target?" 

Orsin's battered face twisted. "W-We had a contract…To find a woman…named Delphine."

The name had Balgruuf scowling. That woman again.

"And who hired you?"

"I-I don't know, we weren't told—"

Esgard stepped forward, a meaty grin on his face. That sent Orsin into a spiral.

"I swear I don't know! We have p-protocol where the client's name is kept a secret! I'm telling the truth, please!"

Esgard looked to Hrongar, who looked to Balgruuf. With a single nod, Esgard stepped back.

Commander Caius stepped in. "How did you breach Dragonsreach?"

Orsin gulped then, looking around wildly before his figure shrunk as he released a breath. "We… have contacts. Guards… sympathetic to coin… to the Guild."

Caius and Hrongar immediately scowled at that notion, Balgruuf wasn't any better. 

If the Thieves Guild managed to plant their agents in his home, who knows how many of his own men were bribed or secretly shared other loyalties. Did Ulfric manage to put his own loyalist in his court? Did the Empire? What of the countless souls that now sheltered behind Whiterun's walls?

Ulfric's war. The Empire's schemes. Dragons, vampires, Daedric cultists—the threats were endless, but it was betrayal from within that gnawed at him most. They couldn't afford to face this coming war while worrying for daggers in the dark.

His jaw clenched as he straightened. It was something that needed to be rectified immediately. Every guard, every officer, every soul with access to Dragonsreach would face scrutiny. Blood would flow if it must. Better to cull the weak links now rather than wait when the war starts proper.[

…

4E 201, Road to Winterhold

Gerron Ironbreaker

"Hmmm…" Gerron Ironbreaker scratched his beard, the parchment map crinkling in his hand as he turned it sideways, upside down, then back again. The entire world around him was blanketed in ice and endless snowdrifts. Jagged mountain peaks loomed in the distance, though none of them looked remotely familiar.

His eyes squinted at the parchment. "Hmm…"

"Gerron," came Serana's voice, the exasperation thinly veiled beneath her usually composed tone.

"Yes, Serana?" he responded, still staring at the map.

"Are we lost?" she asked, folding her arms with one brow quirked so high it might float off her face.

He gave a skeptical hum. "What makes you think that?"

"For starters, you've been staring at that map for five minutes." Serana said. She pointed down the snow-choked path behind them. "And I haven't seen a single road marker, trail, or footprint in… what, five hours?"

Well, she wasn't wrong.

They had left Windhelm days ago with a map given by the Jarl himself. Ulfric was quite different from what he pictured, though he guessed a Jarl and a leader of a rebellion would have to be adaptable if anything else.

Gerron had half a mind to blame him for their predicament, the last landmark was a crooked pine tree they passed sometime after sunrise—two days ago.

Gerron fiddled with the map in his hand. "Did Ulfric give us a faulty map? I'm not seeing any of the landmarks that are supposed to be here."

"Could've been swallowed by the snow." Serana shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement under her hood. "The wind is certainly howling a lot more here than the other holds. Here I thought Windhelm was cold."

"Oh please, I doubt you could even feel the cold." Gerron said incredulously, which had Serana smiling coyly at him.

"As long as the mountains are on our left and we keep on going north, we should get there eventually." Gerron finally said, earning a nod from her.

'Eventually' turned out to be three grueling days of trudging through knee-deep snow, and one very near run-in with an ice wraith nest. Thankfully, the storm had eased as they approached their destination.

Winterhold wasn't that impressive of a sight, though the constant clangs of blacksmith and loud laughter coming from the inn said that this place wasn't as dead or depressing as many initially believed.

"Halt!" A voice interrupted them as they approached the main gate. "State your business in Winterhold!"

"My name is Gerron Ironbreaker, and this is my friend Serana. We're here to visit the College of Winterhold."

The gates opened then as three guards met them in the field. "Another one of you lot. Go on in, then." The man snorted derisively.

"Many thanks." Gerron ignored the tone as he and Serana rode past them. Finding a stable, Gerron and Serana unmounted from their horses to let the tired horses to rest. Despite walking through lands and lands of snow, Gerron managed to keep their horses well fed and hearty from the many crates of food he kept with him in his storage.

"This is one of the capital Holds of Skyrim?" Serana commented. "It's barely twice the size of Shor's Stone."

"They weren't always like this. It happened eighty years or so ago, the Great Collapse they called it. A majority of the city was swallowed by heavy storms that caused the ground underneath it to erode and collapse away, taking everything above with them." He looked at Serana then. "Except the College of Winterhold, which remained largely unscathed."

"I see." Serana said, glancing at the surrounding townsfolk who kept giving them glances. "I could certainly understand why distrust and enmity grew from that. Is that why those guards at the gate looked at us like we were dirt beneath his boot?"

Gerron snorted. "Yeah, most likely. From what I heard, the people of this city grew to be the rivals of the mages of the College. They adopted a more martial lifestyle, turning the once down rotten town into a city of blacksmiths. Though their quality leaves much to be desired." 

Gerron eyed a passing blacksmith and his wares, his Artificer's Insight telling him that most of the weapons and armor were of cheap quality. Though with the amount of blacksmiths in the street, the quantity they could churn out was impressive.

"Will that be a problem for us in the future?" Serana mused as they continued walking down the dirt path, the snow having been shovelled to the side. 

"Probably not. Even with the enmity towards one another, I doubt the Jarl and the Archmage actually hate one another. It's more believable to think that they've reached somewhat of an agreement, especially with news of dragons being spread. The College can't survive without the city and its resources, and the city would need the College for protection." Gerron said. "As powerful as mages are, not even they could grow food out of thin air."

Serana chuckled. "True enough. I remember hearing about a College that existed when I was entombed, to hear it still stands to this day is impressive."

Turning around another corner down the street, they finally reached the gate that leads towards the bridge of the College, an enormous castle standing proud and far above the frigid waters below.

And by Zenithar was it impressive. The Artificer system came to life.

[College of Winterhold]

Constructed atop enchanted bedrock by Archmagus Shalidor himself. Warded to resist weather, erosion, and siege. Having existed for thousands of years, most original enchantments have weakened, with only a few being reapplied.

'Looks like I know the real reason why the College survived in the Great Collapse. Warded by the Archmagus himself, huh?'

A grin appeared on Gerron's face. He would have to add studying those enchantments to his list of activities.

As they walked across the suspended stone bridge, which was among the few of the wards that were being repaired and reinforced, Gerron and Serana turned their head towards the horizon, where the Sea of Ghosts sprawled as far as the eye could see.

Serana however, kept her eyes into the west, seeing something very far in the distance. 

"What is it?" Gerron asked, following her stare but seeing nothing beyond the foggy horizon.

Serana was quiet for a second before shaking her head. "That's where Castle Volkihar should be."

Gerron widened his eyes before looking in that direction. That was dangerously close to Solitude. 'So Harkon built his headquarters on the shores of Skyrim's capital city? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.'

He turned his gaze back to the College as they stepped through the main gates that lead into the central courtyard. A large statue of Shalidor stood in the center, surrounding an enormous glistening green garden with plenty of tall trees with fruits despite the cold weather. 

A group of people were at the front of the statue, what looked to be a teacher rapt in a lecture to a group of students.

Standing a good distance away was a Dunmer man with robes that immediately sent his system to a spiral. His robes were enchanted to Oblivion, not to mention the diadem he wore atop his head. 

That could only be Savos Aren, the Archmage. 

"He must be the Archmage." Serana said. "The amount of magicka he possesses is quite staggering."

High praise coming from an ancient pureblooded Vampire. The Altmer in gold and black clothing standing beside was much less impressive in comparison. 

'Is that a Thalmor agent?' Gerron paused. 'The College must be giving him protection, otherwise he wouldn't have lasted a day in Stormcloak territory without being gutted.'

He shook his head. He remembered Ralof's warnings that the Thalmor was involved with the Dragons. While Gerron didn't know if that was the truth or not, the fact that the Aldmeri Dominion has largely remained silent to the dragon threat was quite suspicious.

Whatever the case was, Gerron would handle it when the problem came at his face. He was never the scheming type after all. If the Thalmor proved trouble, then he'll just invent a bomb and chuck it at their embassy.

They took a step forward and started walking toward the Archmage, swiftly gaining his and the Thalmor's attention.

Savos Aren turned to look at him before his eyebrow quirked up in interest. Whether it was Gerron's size, the Mercury Hammer, or even Serana herself, it seems the Archmage was intrigued by their appearance.

The Thalmor however merely scowled in disgust and took a step forward, fire flickering in hand. His lip curled.

"The College has truly fallen low, allowing beggars and mercenaries to—"

"Shut up, Thalmor," Gerron deadpanned, and without hesitation, drove his forehead forward into the Altmer's face with a satisfying CRACK.

The mer staggered back, clutching his bleeding, broken nose, eyes wide with shock.

The courtyard fell silent. Students stared. Savos Aren's brow lifted in quiet amusement.

Gerron casually turned to the Archmage, acting like nothing happened.

"Afternoon," he said brightly, jerking a thumb toward Serana. "We're here to join the College."

…

AN: An update on Whiterun and Balgruuf. Esbern's actions sent the Thieves Guild on a path of confrontation with Whiterun since quite a lot of people actually know Delphine in that city.

Gerron and Serana finally arrive in the College and the big man immediately picks a fight with Ancano. Next chapter will kick back up with Kiera as well as something that I've been hinting at for a while. The vampires finally make their move.

As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 45 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!