*** Palace of the Kings ***
"Tell me again why we're wasting time and dwindling resources chasing a legend. We don't even know it exists!"
That was the first thing I heard as I entered the palace. I didn't expect them to talk about strategy already after Ulfric himself almost got executed, but it seems in times of war, even a slight rest was fatal.
"The Jarls are upset. They don't all support you."
"Damn the Jarls."
"They demand the Moot."
I decided to leave them to their discussion, leaning against the cold, hard wall outside the room as they continued to ramble about the jagged crown, an old Nordic artifact once thought to be long gone.
If Galmar really found it, that would be a significant boost to Ulfric and the Stormcloaks' influence all across Skyrim.
"And damn the Moot! Should we risk letting those milk drinkers put Thorryg's woman on the throne? She'll hand Skyrim over to the elves on a silver plate."
"All the more reason then. The crown would legitimize your claim."
"A crown doesn't make a king."
I find myself agreeing with Ulfric while they speak. Galmar was passionate, sure, but does chasing a legend that we aren't even sure exists be a good way to spend the already limited manpower of the rebellion?
Either way, I didn't intervene; it was not my place, I was a warrior, not a strategist.
"No, but this one..."
"If it even exists."
"It exists. And it'll be the symbol of the righteousness of our cause. Think about it. The Jagged Crown! It heralds back to a time before jarls and moots. Back to the time when a king was a king because his enemies fell before him, and his people rose because they loved him. Skyrim needs that king. You will be that king, Ulfric. You must be."
"You're certain you've found it?"
"When have I ever been false with you?"
As Galmar spoke those words, I decided it was finally time to report my success; it seemed like the long conversation was finally nearing its end.
"I've finished the task."
I spoke, showing off the Ice Wraith teeth I looted from its corpse, to show proof that I didn't just fail and lie to join.
"Great, and it seems you've come at the perfect moment."
Galmar smirked, looking at Ulfric expectantly.
"Fine. I'll send your friend to come along with you. Fancy a crawl through a moldering dungeon to see if you can't stir up Galmar's Jagged Crown?"
"It'll be there. You'll see."
I couldn't help but smile a little at the way they spoke to each other, despite the situation being serious and strategic, the way they bickered was different from the usual strategist and leader; it was more like two old friends arguing over a dumb plan.
And it gave me a sliver of hope for this hopeless cause; at least the camaraderie was real.
"Bjorn, looks like you have your hands full."
Galmar laughed, pointing at a map at a ruin near Whiterun, an old Nordic ruin called Korvanjud.
"I already have a regiment waiting outside. March with them, I'll catch up."
Galmar commanded, but not before actually formally recruiting me to the rebellion.
"Here."
He tossed me a steel sword, lightweight and lethal, exactly the kind of weapon a veteran would trust with his life, along with the standard-issue Stormcloak helmet.
"And no need to bother with the oath, veteran like us fight with our actions, not our words."
Ulfric laughed at Galmar's statement, looking at me with calculating eyes.
"You've heard your order, Rookie. I'm expecting great things from you."
I nodded, leaving the palace and heading to where Galmar said his regiment was waiting.
The entire regiment consisted of two hundred men, a surprisingly large force, but if we really were about to deal with draugr, you couldn't be too safe.
Especially if the stories of some wielding the Thuum were real.
As I arrived outside Windhelm, just beside the stable, were the men, all talking and mingling as they surrounded one man in particular.
It was Ralof, a survivor of Helgen, one who saw the dragon firsthand.
I heard about him in passing while I was navigating the city towards the palace, but I certainly didn't expect to see him in the same mission.
"Oh?"
Ralof stopped his boasting about his experience as he looked at my approaching form, his smile widening.
"Are you the last one? Great, it means we finally get to see some action!"
Ralof laughed, grabbing his equipment that he had just placed on the floor, the rest following suit. It seemed like he would be the commander of this regiment while Galmar was still busy.
"Alright, everyone! We'll be using the path to Nightgate Inn to reach Korvanjud. I'm sure all of us are familiar with the path, so I expect no issues!"
Ralof yelled out, hyping up his fellow Stormcloaks for a mere crown, but a good enough crown to singlehandedly rally more supporters to the cause.
"You, I'll be assigning you as my shield-brother, watch out for me, will you?"
Ralof commanded, and I nodded. It was reassuring to know that my shield-brother for this mission would be someone competent; being able to survive a dragon attack was no small feat after all.
"You won't regret choosing me."
I replied, eliciting a smirk from Ralof.
"Then I'll look forward to seeing you in battle, kinsman."
And this is it, my first mission as a Stormcloak, and it's probably going to be one of the biggest operations that has ever happened since the civil war started.
And it made me doubt myself even further... is this just a coincidence? or perhaps...
"Never mind."
I shook my head, deciding to focus on the task at hand as I departed in formation with the rest of my brethren.
Thoughts like that would only lead to my death after all, it's best to assume that you're average than as someone special.