— Start of Act 2 —
4E 201, Dragonsreach
Balgruuf the Greater
The great oaken doors of Dragonsreach thundered open as Balgruuf strode inside. His breath was heavy, heart hammering in his chest—not from exertion, but worry, anger, and fear.
His eyes locked onto the figures gathered at the foot of the bed. Irileth held a serious expression over her face, while Hrongar stood beside her, his arms crossed with a hint of shame in the way his shoulders hunched.
On the bed, young Nelkir sat, a cloth bandaged to his cheek from a small cut.
His brows furrowed in anger. "What happened?"
Hrongar spoke first. "We caught a spy that's been prowling through Dragonsreach. He managed to sneak past the guards and sentries. It was only luck that we caught him."
Balgruuf' stomach turned, "How?"
"We heard a scream from the basement of the kitchens." Irileth responded. "Nelkir was there and taken hostage. I snuck in invisibly and subdued the spy before he could cause real harm." Her tone was even, but Balgruuf didn't miss the hint of tension beneath her words.
"How did a single man sneak through Whiterun and all its guards?! We had just been attacked by a dragon for Talos' sake! What if it was an assassin?!"
Hrongar held his head low, ashamed. "Forgive me brother. I take full responsibility. In our haste to protect ourselves from dragon threats, I neglected the protection of the keep. It will not happen again."
Silence fell. Balgruuf's fists clenched at his sides. His son had nearly died—his son—and somehow, the enemy had walked into his hall unchecked.
Irileth spoke again, gentler now. "My Jarl… perhaps it is now prudent to assign your children personal protection."
Balgruuf wanted to retort, but paused. True enough, the suggestion had merit. The only reason Balgruuf never bothered to assign personal guards was because they seldom leave the keep. With Dragonsreach brimming with guards, their safety was guaranteed.
At least he thought so. He wasn't so sure now.
He exhaled slowly before looking at Irileth. "Do it. I want housecarls for each of my children. They are never to be left alone again."
Irileth gave a firm nod. "It will be done. I'll assign Lydia to Nelkir."
Balgruuf nodded. Lydia was one of their best swords, a shield maiden worthy of keeping his family safe.
The Jarl turned to his youngest son, who had remained quiet this entire time. "Nelkir," the boy turned to him. "What were you doing in the kitchens?"
Silence and a blank stare was the only reply, and the Jarl released a sigh. "Rest, son. You're safe now."
He, Hrongar, and Irileth stepped from the room. Two guards in full Whiterun steel closed the doors behind them before flanking the doors and standing at attention. They would serve as Nelkir's protection until Lydia arrives.
Balgruuf didn't stop walking. His voice was low, edged with command. "Hrongar. I want our most skilled interrogator working on this. I want to know everything about that man. Who sent him. What he wanted. How he got in."
Hrongar nodded, pounding a fist to his chest. "It will be done, brother."
The Master-at-arms of Dragonsreach peeled off down another hallway, already barking orders to a guard nearby.
"Irileth, I need the truth from you." His tone was serious. "Which wing of the basement was Nelkir in?"
Irileth blinked, though she answered promptly. "The western wing, my Jarl."
A cold knot twisted in Balgruuf's chest. "Summon Farengar. Tell him I want him now."
Irileth's brows furrowed, but she bowed. "Yes, my Jarl."
As she turned and strode off to fetch the Court Mage, Balgruuf was left alone, if not for the trio of guards who trailed his every step. His feet carried him through Dragonsreach on instinct, past the long tables and hearth fires, until he stood in the council chamber above the great hall. The familiar map of Skyrim lay sprawled across the central table, dotted with wooden markers and banners of various holds.
He hoped he was wrong, by Talos he hoped it truly.
His youngest son had always been quiet, and held himself differently to the rest of his children. Unlike Frothar and Dagny, Nelkir was sired with Balgruuf's second wife, who died in the birthing bed to bring Nelkir to the world.
His hands gripped the edge of the table as he leaned forward.
The western wing.
If that was where Nelkir liked to go in his regular jaunts, then it brought ill tidings. For that was where that cursed door was hidden, where whispers of darkness would come.
He had found it decades ago, when a tour of his castle had him hear whispered words. Farengar had sealed it at Balgruuf's request and it had worked. Through whatever wards the Court Mage had done, the whispers disappeared. None was supposed to go near it.
And yet…
Nelkir was down there alone for who knows how long before the spy arrived. Why? Was it curiosity? Or…something more. Had Farengar's wards waned throughout the years and the cursed door found another willing soul to bewitch? Had it begun whispering dark words towards his youngest son?
The Jarl closed his eyes. Talos preserve us.
He couldn't afford this—not now. They couldn't afford to be blindsided by any more distractions. Windhelm had been burned by dragonfire. Hundreds had died in the defense, all by a single dragon.
Whiterun had been lucky. It was only by the grace of the gods that Gerron and Kiera were in the city when the Western Watchtower fell. Were it not for them, the city may have suffered much more severe losses.
Balgruuf vowed to never get caught off guard again. Luck or not, the Dragon Hunt had proven that the beasts could be killed, and it didn't have to be the Dragonborn's arm that did the killing blow.
The companions were strong allies, their werewolf forms proven to be capable of hurting the dragons, but it wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough. History had said that Dragonsreach earned its name when the ancient Nord Hero Olaf One-Eye imprisoned his foe, the great dragon Numinex within the palace.
The head of said dragon now adorns the great hall above his own throne. Whiterun had not fallen to a dragon then, and it won't fall now.
The Great Porch still held the contraption that managed to trap Numinex, though it had long fallen to disrepair after decades without use. Perhaps it's time for it to be fixed?
…
4E 201, Hall of Vigilants
Keeper Carcette
She stood atop the stone steps leading into the Hall of Vigilants, her eyes surveying the lively training yard below. The rhythmic clash of steel rang through the air, accompanied by the low, steady chants of magic incantations.
A handful of initiates practiced spells under a senior Vigilant's guidance, while others sparred with wooden staves or short swords, forming circles of training around the central courtyard.
Though it wasn't just the Vigilants in the yard today.
Their pale grey robes, lined with brown sashes, now intermingled with the crimson cloaks of Solitude's soldiers—a hundred and fifty of them, to be exact. An entire company had marched to the Hall's doorstep a little over a week ago, led by a man called Aldis, the Captain of the Guard in Solitude.
Carcette had known trouble from the Empire would come eventually. The moment the Stormcloaks had attempted to pull the Vigilants into the war, she knew retaliation would come from the other side.
The Vigilants had remained neutral for as long as they existed—watchers, not warriors, guardians of mortal realms from the creeping shadow of the Daedra. But the Civil War did not care for neutrality. It had bled into every corner of Skyrim, and now even her sacred order had begun to feel the pressure of its weight.
She had refused Ulfric's request, not that they tried very hard. All they did was send an envoy before promptly leaving with a simple veiled promise of "religious unity" and "freedom from elven laws."
In contrast, Jarl Elisif had done something far more dangerous. She had extended a hand.
Aldis brought with him a letter bearing Elisif's personal seal, stamped in purple wax. It pledged no demands, made no offers of allegiance. Instead, it simply expressed the Jarl's recognition of the Vigilants' struggle against the Daedric threat—and offered soldiers and supplies in return.
Carcette saw the political maneuvering for what it was, of course. The Empire didn't want the Vigilants drifting into Stormcloak influence, and Elisif was wise enough to offer support without strings. Yet for all her wariness, Carcette had found herself nodding. There was sincerity in Elisif's words.
The Hall was ill equipped to house or feed another one hundred and fifty men, but Aldis had assured that they were fine making camp outside the walls. Said promise of supplies had even come in abundance. Not a few days after they arrived, carts and caravans bearing food, cloaks, and weapons came trawling through the snow.
The only thing that rivalled Carcette's current relief was when Kiera had shown up at her doorstep. Now, with fresh men and supplies, the coming war didn't look so bleak. The hall had never looked livelier, with the small sea of tents that now surrounded it as well as the supply trains that kept coming and leaving.
What truly mattered was that Aldis and Elisif were honest in their goals. Numerous excursions that Carcette had sent her Vigilants to were followed by a score of Solitude guard every time. Red cloaks became a usual sight in the snowy lands of the Pale as patrol duty was largely taken over by soldiers of Haafingar, accompanied by at least one senior Vigilant everytime.
Less and less of his Vigilants died in their missions, and Carcette was glad for it. Aldis had admitted that the company he had brought were not veterans, but rather men and women unblooded.
Carcette appreciated the honesty and wasn't really bothered by their inexperience. The fresh-faced recruits from Solitude may not have been hardened, but they were loyal and far from incompetent. That alone made a difference. As long as they were here to help, she would welcome them in their halls.
She folded her arms as she watched a Vigilant initiate parry a strike from a red-cloaked soldier, the clash of their weapons echoing across the courtyard. Aldis was here, having just returned from another patrol. His arms were crossed as he watched the drills. He had proven cordial so far, never overstepping his authority.
Her musings were broken as she heard footsteps approaching from the eastern road. She turned, immediately spotting the group climbing the path toward the Hall.
Tolan was in the lead, his long grey robes flaring in the mountain breeze. Beside him stood a man Carcette had not seen in many years—but recognized at once.
Isran.
He looked… older. Grimmer, if such a thing was possible. He was tall—taller than Tolan by a hair—and broad-shouldered, clad in thickset heavy armor dyed black, with no visible weapons save for a small dagger at the small of his back. Though that wasn't much of a surprise, the Redguard was the only other mage in the order that rivalled Carcette's mastery with Restoration spells. Whereas Carcette's mastery stemmed in healing and protection, Isran was the expert wielder of Stendarr's light.
Behind him followed three others: a large, scarred Nord with a runed bearded axe and shield—Gunmar, if Carcette remembered Tolan's letters correctly; a sharp-eyed Breton woman with a custom-forged crossbow slung over her back; and a young Nord boy, barely older than an initiate, his posture stiff. He stood straighter than the others, trying to hide his inexperience beneath discipline. Carcette watched him carefully. If Isran had brought the boy along, he was more than he seemed.
All three wore armor similar to Isran, with minute differences on each one. 'Uniformed armor and high quality weaponry. He must've already succeeded in refounding the Dawnguard.' Carcette mused. It was impressive. Recreating the ancient order from scratch was no small feat.
The Vigilants and Solitude guards had already begun to notice. Training slowed. Eyes turned. Even Aldis shifted slightly, narrowing his gaze at the approaching figures.
Carcette stepped forward, her tone level. "Isran."
"Keeper." The Redguard stopped before her, his intense amber eyes scanning the courtyard. "This place is a lot livelier than I remembered."
Carcette allowed a faint smile to tug at her lips. "It's a new day."
Isran snorted, not without some appreciation. "Indeed," he said. "Nevertheless, I'm glad for it. These are troubled times."
Behind him, Gunmar's gaze lingered on the Hall's great stone pillars, while the Breton woman seemed to be evaluating the Solitude guard formations with a warrior's eye.
"Come," Carcette gestured, her voice now firm with purpose. "We have much to discuss."
…
AN: Nothing like an interlude to introduce a new act. Balgruuf will be a new POV character act since a lot of stuff will take place in Whiterun. I almost chose Farengar's POV instead, but thought better of it. Balgruuf is big chad after all.
Anyways, Isran makes his appearance, as well as Aldis. I don't know if people remember since it was many many chapters ago, but Elisif did promise to send the fresh batch of recruits to the Vigilants.
With this the week-long break is over and I'll come back to regular posting. Expect plenty of action going forward
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Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!