4E 202, The Reach
Ulfric Stormcloak
Bormund led them off the main road and into the broken stone and scrub that passed for shelter in the Reach. The wind howled low through the ravines here, brought by the large looming mountains of the Reach to the west.
A small campsite soon came into view, no banners, no fires large enough to draw attention. Just tents, camouflaged and placed with care.
Waiting beside them stood Gerron Ironbreaker's scout.
Ulfric studied the man the moment they crossed the camp.
The Nord was tall and lean, his posture loose but alert in the way of someone who lived by anticipation rather than reaction. But it was the armor that truly caught Ulfric's eye.
Sleek, blackened leather reinforced with light plates, fitted close to the body. Belts crossed his chest and waist, heavy with pouches and hidden sheaths.
He recognized it, for it is infamous for being wielded by members of the Thieves' Guild.
Ulfric's jaw tightened slightly at the sight.
He remembered too well the letters from Jarl Laila Law-Giver, her frustrations, her helplessness. Riften had been rotting from within for years, corruption choking the life from the city, which was probably the reason why such a guild could thrive.
More than once, Ulfric had considered marching Stormcloaks straight into the Ratway and burning it out.
Yet here stood proof that Gerron Ironbreaker had learned something Ulfric himself had once refused to consider.
'Use the knife in the dark, instead of railing against it.'
It was quite the shrewd move, one he didn't expect from a straightforward man such as the Dragonslayer.
Then again… Serana Volkihar was sharp and cunning, and Gerron listened to her counsel. Perhaps that alone explained much.
"Vipir," Karliah said from atop her horse as Ulfric and Keeper Carcette dismounted. "It's good to see you."
The man inclined his head respectfully. "Lady Karliah. Jarl Ulfric. Keeper Carcette."
So, this was Vipir the Fleet. A rather famous former thief, now a scout in service to Skyrim. The Champion of Nocturnal was a member of the Thieves' Guild, which explained how they knew one another.
Vigilant Tolan took Carcette's reins as Ulfric's Snow-Hammers did the same for him.
Ulfric wasted no time. "What have you found?"
Vipir stepped to a knapsack and drew out several stacks of parchment, handing them first to Karliah, who spread them so Ulfric and Carcette could see.
"There's been unrest across the Reach," Vipir began. "More than usual. Some days ago, the folks at Kolskeggr Mine heard some heavy fighting going down in Blind Hill Cave. I went to investigate."
Ulfric scanned the rough sketches and notes as the scout continued.
"I saw the Forsworn there, fighting Daedra." Vipir said,
Carcette perked up at that. "What did the Daedra look like?"
"Humanoid mostly, with horns and sharp claws wearing queer armor of black and red steel. Some wielded swords and others used staves." Vipir answered.
"Kynvals," Vigilant Tolan said at once. "Dremora foot soldiers."
Carcette nodded grimly.
Ulfric looked up from the parchment. "How many?"
"The Daedra? Just three," Vipir replied with a shrug. "The Forsworn had four times that. Though the demons held their ground longer than they should've, killed plenty of Forsworn. But numbers won out."
Ulfric put a hand on his chin. "The Mythic Dawn must be sending these Kynvals out for supplies, raiding whatever settlements they can."
"And stirring the Forsworn in the process," Carcette added. "The Legion patrols had lessened since the General took a majority up to Solitude to help Kiera siege Castle Volkihar."
Ulfric frowned. "Five thousand men marching through these hills won't go unnoticed."
"No," Carcette agreed. "And we cannot afford to be harried on the approach, our supply lines to Markarth would be vulnerable."
Ulfric turned back to Vipir. "What of Bthardamz itself?"
Vipir produced another parchment, this one depicting crude drawings of the surrounding area around Bthardamz. Ulfric leaned closer.
"The ruin is built into the mountain," Vipir explained. "There's only one main approach path. The cliff face is sheer on three sides. And above the path—"
"A watchtower," Ulfric finished, eyes narrowing.
"At the highest point of the cliffs with a clear view of the valley," Vipir confirmed. "You won't get within miles without being seen."
Ulfric straightened, gaze distant as he weighed the information.
"A narrow approach. Elevated defenders. Stone walls built by the Dwemer." He exhaled through his nose. "It's practically a fortress. The Mythic Dawn chose their hideout well."
"They're not one to be taken lightly," Carcette said.
Ulfric nodded once. "How far is the ruin from here?"
"Half an hour west," Vipir replied. "I kept my camp here because Forsworn scouts are active closer in."
Ulfric turned to Carcette. "We can ride ahead with a small group. The rest can follow at a measured pace. Five thousand men won't move quickly through this terrain."
"Agreed," she said.
They turned back to the army and met with Galmar and Aldis. Ulfric issued his orders before riding westwards.
Vipir led them through broken stone paths and jagged outcroppings, the land growing harsher with each passing minute. Galmar rode silently at Ulfric's side, his expression hard and thoughtful.
"I don't like this, Ulfric." Galmar stated, his voice low enough that the words only landed at his ears. "The Forsworn hate us, the Stormcloaks were the ones to beat them back in the Markarth Incident."
"Which is why I've taken precautions." Ulfric stated. "I've sent word to the Legions stationed here in the Reach. They may not be much in number, but the Legion Rangers can crack down on the Forsworn from the north, and Balgruuf has promised reinforcements from Whiterun. Our backs will be safe, my friend."
Galmar let out a small grunt, before acknowledging it with a nod.
"I didn't see any humans entering or leaving Bthardamz," Vipir said as they rode. "Only Daedra."
"Expected," Carcette replied. "The Mythic Dawn had always preferred to use the Dremora as expendable labor since they technically can't be killed. Mankar wouldn't risk the few cultists he has left after their disastrous loss in the Night of Convergence."
The terrain shifted as the Western Mountains rose before them. The Karth River cut through the land below, dark and steady as it flowed away from Markarth and eventually to Solitude.
Then they saw it, Bthardamz rose from the mountainside like a wound carved into the stone.
Pale ash-gray walls melded seamlessly with the rock itself, tier upon tier cut with inhuman precision. Massive stone blocks fit together without mortar, their surfaces smoothed despite being battered by centuries of wind. Stairways climbed between the levels, wide enough for ten men to walk up it abreast without worry.
There was no ornamentation or aesthetic in the architecture, only purpose.
'The Dwemer has always been a mystery to the people of Skyrim.' Ulfric thought as he eyed the tall walls. 'Last I heard, Gerron was the one man able to somewhat emulate this…'
Isolated from the larger complex was the tall watchtower, connected only by a small stone walkway into the main building. It was a dominating thing, the way that it held view of the surrounding landscapes.
There won't be a surprise attack here. They'd see them coming from miles away.
Ulfric's eyes went to the walls behind it, where he could see dark shapes moving along the parapets.
He couldn't make out their details, but they could only be sentries and guards.
Carcette and Karliah turned to him.
"What do you think, Jarl Ulfric?" Carcette asked. "You're the better commander among us. What should we do?"
Ulfric did not answer at once. He studied the ruin. The terrain. The approach. The tower.
Then he spoke, voice steady and certain. "It would be a siege."
Galmar nodded beside him.
…
4E 202, Shor's Stone
Gerron Ironbreaker
The moment they had returned to Shor's Stone through the portal, Gerron had known there would be no sleep that night.
Recent events had proven that the end of days were growing closer. There was no time to waste.
He summoned the council at once.
Serana remained behind with Valerica, guiding her mother through halls she had never seen, into a foreign world that had long moved past what she would know.
Gerron allowed them the moment of relief. They deserved time to talk, to see whatever fragments of peace could be salvaged after centuries of separation.
He would handle the rest.
The council chamber was dimly lit when he arrived, the hour too late for ceremony. Grogmar stood with his arms folded near the far wall, armor half-unbuckled. Ralof leaned against the table, expression tense, while Filnjar already had parchment laid out, quill poised.
"Jarl Gerron," Filnjar said as he entered, brows knitting together. "Why the sudden summons? Did something happen in the Soul Cairn?"
Gerron took his seat heavily.
"This isn't official," he said, voice rough. "There's no need for titles, Filnjar. But yes. Something happened."
He was still clad in the armor he'd worn beyond the veil. Scratched and chuffed from the soul ash, carrying that faint metallic scent from the sands and dusts of the Cairn.
"I need you to send word to everyone," he continued, looking at his steward. "Alduin is making his move. And when he does, he'll be more powerful than ever."
He began regaling them with the tale of everything he'd seen. Of Alduin and the Ideal Masters, of the souls torn skyward from the fissures, of Odahviing and Durnehviir. Of the Reaper unleashed like a blade against the heavens. Each word weighed heavier than the last.
When he finished, Grogmar exhaled slowly. Ralof stared at the table as though it might crack beneath his gaze.
Gerron didn't give them time to think, already barking out orders. "Start preparing water stores everywhere, in warehouses, cellars, temples. Spread the granaries as well, we can't risk having them all burn at once should Alduin's dragons go for them."
"I'll double ballista bolt production." Grogmar chimed in. "The central tower will stay active around the clock—proper rotations to make sure everyone stationed on the magicka turrets is fresh and experienced." He then tilted his head, "The Shor's Guard already swelled to three thousand, and I can gather another thousand swords from the nearby villages and towns. It should be enough to man the walls should Alduin go for an all out strike."
Gerron nodded. "Do it. Anything we can do to reduce casualties and to prepare ourselves would be useful."
Filnjar's quill scratched furiously as Gerron turned to him. "Send word to the Emperor so the Legions could mobilize. And a runner to Ivarstead as well. Paarthurnax should be warned that we might need the new batch of Voice wielders soon."
Filnjar nodded, before he paused. "What of the Stormcloaks, Gerron?"
Gerron furrowed his brow. "Ulfric should already be with the Vigilants now, handling the Mythic Dawn. Send word to Jorleif then, the Stormcloak garrisons from Forts Greenwall to Kastav need to be on alert." That's when a thought came to his mind. "While you're at it, might as well send the Vox Matrix with them as well. We should have six more ready. Send them to Solitude, Windhelm, Whiterun, the Hall of Vigilants, the College, and Fort Dawnguard with a contingent of guards."
Another beat of silence accompanied the room as the only thing that could be heard was the constant scribblings of Filnjar.
"Be ready," Gerron said quietly. "What comes next will be bigger than anything we've faced so far."
Everyone nodded, prepared to do their duties for the coming times ahead.
When the meeting finally broke, exhaustion crashed over Gerron all at once. His steps echoed softly as he climbed the stair toward his chambers, nodding absently to the Shor's Guard stationed at the entrance.
The door closed behind him.
His room was dark, save for the faint glow of candles near the bed.
What caught him by surprise was Serana standing in the center of the room.
He froze for half a heartbeat.
"Serana?" he asked, genuine surprise slipping through his fatigue. "What are you doing here? Where's Valerica?"
"She's settling in," Serana replied, her voice soft. "She brought half her stores from the castle in the Cairn—potions, notes, ingredients. She's even already asking for an alchemist's table."
Gerron huffed a tired chuckle. "Didn't take her long to keep busy."
With a thought, his armor vanished into his inventory, leaving him in the simple clothes beneath. He poured himself water, drank deeply, then glanced back at her.
"How did you get past the guard?"
Serana gave him a coy smile. "Did you really think it would be difficult?"
He laughed quietly. "I hope it was. Otherwise I'm having Grogmar double their training."
She stepped closer as he set the pitcher aside.
"So," he said gently. "What brings you here? Is there something you need?"
"No." She shook her head. Then, after a breath, "I wanted to thank you."
"For what?" Gerron asked.
"For everything." Her voice wavered just slightly. "You helped save my mother, even if you didn't have to. I wouldn't even know where to start in getting to the Soul Cairn if you weren't there."
"Hey come on," Gerron waved her thanks away. "I'm always happy to help."
"But you didn't need to." Serana reaffirmed, taking a step closer. "Yet you did it anyway. Not only with her, but with my father as well. Divines know I would've died back then if you didn't come to help when you did."
She moved closer still, until he could see the faint glow in her crimson eyes, the emotion she rarely let surface.
"I lost so much time, Gerron." Serana said quietly. "Thousands of years after my mother buried me in that tomb. And when I woke up… If anyone, anyone else, had found me then instead of you…"
She looked up at him, meeting his gaze.
"I love you, Gerron Ironbreaker." Serana confessed. "I didn't know when it started, but before I knew it, I kept relying on you, knowing you'd be there for me even if I didn't ask for it. I know this is sudden and all but—"
He didn't let her finish whatever apology or doubt might have followed.
Gerron leaned down and kissed her.
For a heartbeat, she was still, then her hands were in his hair, pulling him in with sudden, fierce certainty. The world narrowed to warmth, to closeness, to the quiet certainty that some things were worth holding onto even at the end of days.
They fell back together onto the bed, candles flickering as the door remained closed to the night beyond.
And whatever came after, the world could wait.
…
AN: Well, it finally happened.
I genuinely don't know how good that confession scene ended up being, but it was the best that I could do. It's about damn time for them to let all their doubts go and just go for it anyway.
Anyways, the campaign in the Reach is going strong, with Ulfric, Karliah, and Carcette spearheading the assault on the Mythic Dawn.
I hope you guys enjoyed this one.
More chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 109 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name, TeemVizzle, and you'll find me.
Cheers!