Chapter Seven: The Grey Quarter
“Disgusting Greyskin!” The voice of a middle-aged man drifted over the snow-covered bridge that led into the city. It was nearly dawn by the time we arrived at the stables, meaning no respectable person was out during that time, save for the guards who wandered the streets. I would have normally been concerned with the exclaim, but given I had ridden most of the night to make it to the city, I was too tired, too hungry, and too cold to give it more than a second or two of consideration.
Drablek growled lowly as we neared the gate. The wind that nipped at my skin felt like needles, so I could only imagine how the orc felt. He wore less protection than I did. “Excited to warm up inside the Palace?” I asked, smiling back at him over my shoulder.
“You are far too chipper for being up all night,” he responded, withholding his smile for several seconds. “I'm not going Galmar just yet. I have family in the Grey Quarter I haven't seen in years. I think I'm going to warm up there, clean myself up, and go see the higher-ups later today.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I stated, putting my eyes back ahead on the gate. “I'm still going since I don't have anyone here to stay with. If you want, I'll tell them you plan on meeting with them in a few hours. They'll know to wait for you then.”
“You act like they have somewhere better to be. The Jarl and his general can't be bothered to leave the palace, especially when they have thousands of men at their disposal to do their bidding.” I started a rebuttal, but he interrupted. “Don't mistake my talk for disrespect. They have long earned the right to go and do as they please.” When we passed through the gates, the shouts of the drunkard grew louder. Drablek growled again. “What's going on?”
When I heard him stop walking, I turned to face him. His eyes were fixed down the street right of the gate. I saw two forms walking down the street. The first was feminine- curvy yet thin and walking briskly ahead of the other. When she crossed into the light I could tell by her skin she was a Dunmer. Close behind, an almost sickly Nord lumbered. He swayed slightly when he walked, and his taunting was ever increasing in volume. I pieced together fairly quickly the Dunmer wanted no part of him and was trying to escape the harassment.
Rather than the orc, I was the first to go to her aid. I jogged down the street towards them, the woman's eyes looking up at me almost as if she expected me to join in. I moved passed her, stopping dead in my tracks in front of the drunk. He was so intoxicated, he bumped into me before realizing I was even there. As he stumbled backwards, he scowled, growling, “Watch where you're going!”
“Oh, I did it on purpose,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Don't you have anything better to do?”
“What's it to you?” he snarled. “Do you actually like those filth? Dark elf lovers have no place in our city!” He took a moment to look me over, finally realizing who I was and what I wore. His eyes ran over the reds and browns of my leather, the make of my sword and shield, and my smaller frame. I could taste the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in closer, threatening me in a breathy yell, “A legionnaire!? I ought to kill you myself!”
My brow furrowed as I took a slight step back. I wasn't intimidated but his stench was gods-awful. “I am a Stormcloak,” I stated confidently, “but it doesn't matter if I was a Legionnaire. My loyalty doesn't change the fact you need to learn how to take a hint.”
The Nord growled at me, making a sudden move to push me. The action caught me off guard and was strong enough to stagger me. He hissed curses at me under his breath as I gathered my footing. I looked up in time to see him wad up a fist and hurl it at me. I attempted to block, but there was no need. I felt a strong presence behind me and saw the hand of an orc reach over my shoulder and grab the fist mid-swing. Drablek twisted his arm as he muttered, “Harassing a soldier will get you into some trouble, drunkard- Imperial or not.”
The man cried out in pain before shouting, “Release me, Pighead! I'll have you all killed!”
The orc stepped passed me, still holding his fist. “I think it's time you called it a night,” he taunted. Drablek suddenly jerked the man towards him, bringing his free fist across the Nord's face. The man made no sound as he collapsed completely unconscious onto the snowy road.
I frowned slightly. “I was trying to avoid conflict.”
“With a drunk?” the orc asked, nudging the man with his foot. “How did that work out for you?” When I huffed, he chuckled grabbing the man's shoulders and dragging him to one of the fireplaces that littered the city streets. He laid him beside it for warmth and looked back at me. “He'll be fine, just have a headache. The guards will find him when they begin their patrols again. They don't really watch the Grey Quarter at night.” I felt his gaze shift from me to the Dunmer who stood nearby. “Are you alright, Suvaris?”
“Fine,” she mumbled. “Now.” She exhaled deeply as she began to calm her nerves. “I can't express how good it feels to see him finally get what he's been giving.” Despite her words, she looked a little troubled by the outcome. I wondered if she worried what would happen to her if he went to the guards.
“Don't worry about him, alright?” She looked over at me as I spoke. “After getting his rear handed to him by an orc, I doubt he'll be confident enough to bring this matter to the town guards.” I laughed lightly, a sound that seemed to calm her nerves. “Are you sure you're alright?”
“Yes, sera,” she hummed. “I appreciate the two of you going out of your way for me. Especially you, Drablek. I didn't think I'd be seeing you for awhile.”
The orc grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. For a fleeting moment, the elf woman allowed herself to study his powerful arms. “Ran into a bit of a problem in Solitude and had to leave early. I'll admit, I don't like being around so many Legionnaires, but the weather is much more tolerable.”
“I can imagine so,” she chuckled in amusement. Suvaris looked between us adding, “You both look exhausted. I need to meet up with the Shatter-Shields, but my brothers are still at home. You both are welcomed to eat and rest up there as long as you like.”
I smiled softly, bowing slightly in respect. “I appreciate the offer, but I'll need to be getting to the Palace soon. Drablek could sure use a place to sleep though. He's been grouchy our whole trip.”
The orc growled, starting to protest before the elf added, “He's always grouchy.” Her soft giggle drew a much gentler smile to his lips. “Regardless, the offer stands. It's the least I could do for either of you.” Suvaris' red tinted eyes shifted from me to the taller orc. “I get done with work around 5. Should you still be around, I'd be willing to buy you a drink at the New Gnisis.”
It was hard to tell when an orc blushed, and even harder when it was dark, but I could tell by his stammering alone she had caught him off guard. “You-... I... I will try to be around, Suvaris.”
“Good, then I hope to see you then.” She looked back to me, sharing the same amused smirk that I held. “And I hope our paths meet again as well.”
“As do I,” I replied, raising my hand over my chest in a salute. The Dunmer walked further into the darkness, heading towards what appeared to be the housing district. The soft huff of the male behind me let me know he was watching her leave as well. I muttered softly, “She seems nice enough. I don't see why anyone would be bothered by her.”
Drablek grunted, “She's a Dunmer- not a beneficial man to help the cause, but a freeloading elf that takes up space. I won't give you a hard time about not knowing, since you clearly haven't been in Skyrim long. You're going to find out how things work soon enough.”
“This is normal then?” I asked, taken aback by the idea that other elves in the city were treated the same way.
“It's becoming that way.” He looked back down at me, continuing, “The way some of these Nords see it, this country is theirs. They shouldn't have to share it with anyone else. They tolerate some cultures more than others.”
“And Ulfric?” I asked, slightly afraid to know the answer.
The orc hummed softly in thought. “He used to support most of the races that entered through the gate. He allowed Dunmer to own land and buy homes and even a few Altmer to open shops here. He let my kin enter his ranks after a few of us left the mountain strongholds. Since this war of his started though, he doesn't really seem to care. I suppose he's letting his thanes keep the city.”
“So you don't think he knows what's going on outside of what they tell him?” It made sense. A campaign against the empire would require his full attention, and the best option would be to leave the city in control of the people he trusted. The way things had turned out however, I wouldn't doubt it if the thanes all shared the “Skyrim is for the Nords” mindset. “Has anyone tried to talk to him?”
“Brunwulf Free-Winter is the only Nord that expresses genuine concern for both the way non-Nords are treated.” He grumbled, “He's a respected man and war-hero, but that doesn't mean his words have weight over the voices of four or five thanes.” He shifted his gaze back to the drunk that now snored beside the fire. “Ulfric can't be bothered with it until after the war. It is just the way it is. Still, that doesn't mean we can't break a few noses and change a few minds. He rubbed his bloodied fist and yawned, “You're welcome, by the way.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but simply shook my head. “Thank you, Drablek, for everything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed, glaring down at me. “I don't need a thousand sentiments from you.” He faint smirk told me he was merely teasing again. Drablek's hand extended to take mine. “You're a honorable warrior. I hope we can soon fight by each other's side in battle.”
I took his hand, shaking it with a nod. “I as well. Malacath preserve you.”
He chuckled softly. “Divines bless you, Talia.” With his dismissal, he withdrew his hand and turned his back on me, walking farther into the Grey Quarter. There were far fewer fires, but the orc seemed to know his way around well enough. I didn't wait longer than I needed- partially because I knew that he could handle himself, but mostly because I was losing feeling in my fingers and toes from the cold.
I walked briskly the other direction, making a sharp right when Candlehearth came into view. It was tempting to walk into the inn and sleep for a few hours, but I was convinced to carry on as the looming presence of the Palace watched over me. I could see the sky in the east beginning to change colors as Mundus rose behind billows of thick clouds. Drablek and I had luckily made it in time, but I would likely have to wait out the weather in Windhelm. I just hoped no one at the Outpost would grow suspicious.
As soon as I made it inside, my body began tingling. The mix of the warm air against my frozen extremities caused me to tremble, but I was thankful for the shelter all the same. My arrival was met by a few weary glances from guards, but otherwise the main hall was fairly empty. Jorleif was seated at the dining table, drinking a steaming beverage to warm himself. I figured he was still half asleep and hadn't noticed that I came in. I quietly approached him, muttering in a soft voice when I drew near enough, “Steward Jorleif?”
The man jolted slightly, looking towards me in alarm. After the initial fright, he smiled coyly and chuckled, “Oh, I'm sorry. I really wasn't expecting anyone in the halls at this hour.”
He started to rise to his feet, by I stopped him. “No need to get up, sir. I realize it's early, and I didn't announce myself. Honestly, I didn't expect to be here at this hour either.”
Jorlief's gentle smile warmed my core. He looked surprised and genuinely thankful for my understanding. Working in the Palace forced him to deal with soldiers often, and I didn't imagine all of them had manners or a good attitude. “Regardless, you're here now.” His eyes scanned over me before continuing, “Did you ride all night to get here? You must be cold, hungry, and exhausted. I'll have the maids prepare you a room if you need it, and I'll get the chef to prepare breakfast as well.”
I shook my head with a small laugh. “No, sir. I'm fine. There's no need to go out of your way for me. I'll rest up at Candlehearth after I talk to Galmar. Speaking of which,” I looked away from him and towards the throne at the far end, “do you know when he and the Jarl will be awake? I have important notes I found in Tullius' war room.”
The steward blinked in surprise. “You have notes already? You certainly wasted no time.” He motioned towards the hall to the left of the throne. “Galmar should be awake already. Jarl Ulfric will be in shortly, if he isn't already.”
I placed my hand over my chest in a salute. “Thank you, sir,” I murmured, dismissing myself. “I appreciate your time.”
“It was a pleasure, Miss Talia,” he responded. I found it interesting that he remembered my name from the few interactions we had. I considered he had to be good with names, as his job required keeping track of all the cities residence, though it was possible I had made a big enough impact that he made it a point to memorize it. Either way, I thought it was sweet of him to address me as such and not generically “Unblooded”.
I made my way to the war room, which wasn't that hard to find. It was the only door down the short hall, and Galmar's voice carried from behind the closed door. He spoke to another, but from the tone, I could tell the Stormcloak wasn't Ulfric. I was a little nervous about interrupting yet another meeting, but I hoped Galmar's wrath was less than before. I cautiously knocked on the wooden barrier and waited until Galmar grumbled, “Who is it?”
“Talia Maro, sir.” I heard shuffling followed by pounding steps as Galmar approached the door. It flew open with almost terrifying speed, yet I remained composed as I came face to face with the Second-in-Command yet again. He looked almost surprised to see me at first, but that emotion gave way to annoyance almost immediately. I saluted him, bowing my head, mostly to avoid his icy gaze. “I-I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important, sir.”
“Interruption is interruption, Imperial.” He grumbled the name as if it tasted sour in his mouth. I slowly looked up, realizing he wouldn't be returning my salute. I lowered my hand as he continued, “You better have a good reason for showing up this early.”
“Yes, sir,” I responded, trying to keep the annoyance out of my own voice. “I thought you'd like to know the locations of Tullius' camps and the movements of his men. If it's not as important as what you're doing, I can come back later.”
He narrowed his eyes, glancing over to the other man in the room. He appeared to be another general, but I suspected his duties involved keeping the Hold from the Legion. He met Galmar's gaze before glancing at me. “We won't be able to do anything today with the storm. I can wait.”
Galmar hummed slightly, moving aside to let me into the room. The other man smiled slightly at me, bowing in a greeting as he left the room. When he was gone, Galmar closed the door once again. “I have my suspicions.”
I huffed softly. “You seem suspicious of everything I do, sir.”
“Rightfully so,” he retorted, walking towards the table at the center of the room. I followed as he continued, “You're an Imperial, born on the enemy's soil, raised in the enemy's army. You expect me to freely put trust in someone like you?”
“I could say the same for you. Yet, I chose freely to come to the heart of your home, where I could have been killed on sight, to ask to join your ranks.” I could feel myself bubbling up with anger. “Doesn't that mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing.” More and more this Nord reminded me of Tullius. His quick temper, blind eye to reason, and stubborn determination to not change his mind were echoes of the man he claimed to hate. They both hated me as well and for the same reason: they thought I wasn't loyal. Tullius didn't think I had the capabilities to submit myself to his authority, and by extension the empire. I suppose he was right, but I had yet to do anything to give Galmar reason to void my trust. His hatred was purely based on my race, which stung more than I was willing to admit.
I knew I wouldn't get anywhere arguing with him, so I simply rummaged through my bag for the notes I had taken. I sighed, “I don't expect these to change your mind either then.” The notes were smudged and still slightly damp, but legible. I handed them over to him, keeping a straight face. “These notes I copied from a couple of Tullius' letter to his general's stationed around the country. There were other letters, but most weren't useful. I sketched and mapped the locations of the camps he had marked on his own map. He knows were a few of our are as well, like Mara's Eye. I tried to move his markers to throw him off our trail, but he came back before I was able to make much leeway.”
For several seconds, Galmar's expression was unreadable. He simply read over the notes and compared them to the map he had laid out on his own table. I thought he looked impressed for a fleeting moment, but my hopes where shattered when he grumbled, “And how am I supposed to trust you aren't lying?”
I was too shocked to speak. I couldn't believe he doubted me. My job, given by the Jarl himself, was to infiltrate Tullius's office, gather intel, and misdirect him. I carried that mission out nearly flawlessly, yet it was unbelievable. When I finally processed my situation enough to speak, I snapped, “Why would I lie about this?!”
Galmar narrowed his eyes. “You claim to lie for us. What's the difference in lying for Tullius?” He set the notes on the table, not giving me time to answer. “I'll consider looking into these notes, but otherwise, I think you've wasted my time. Tell Stormblade Yrsarald to come back in on your way out.”
I understood his statement as a dismissal, but my anger got the better of me. Rather than leave, I held my ground, glaring at him with the same cold gaze he gave me. I spoke through clenched teeth, trying to keep my tone as calm as possible. “I risked Tullius finding out about me defecting to get those notes. I traveled all night soaking when from the rain and freezing in the cold to get them to you. They are legitimate. You know they are. You just can't stand the thought that you could be wrong about me.”
The Nord approached me with clenched fists. He hissed his words, trying to keep them as low as possible. “Listen here, you disrespectful little harlot! I don't care if I'm wrong about you. I don't care if you travel across Oblivion or have Tullius slit you're throat. In the end, what you do or don't do won't matter. My job isn't to make sure you're warm and comfortable. My job is to keep Ulfric safe. His life is worth thousands of yours, so if I think for one second I can't trust you, I'm not going to.” He drew closer, towering over me in an intimidating way. I felt myself back away, only to find him drawing closer. Only when I backed myself into a corner did I begin to let fear override my anger. He continued snarling, “I don't know who you think you are to waltz in this Palace and demand trust and respect. You are nothing to us! If you want to have worth, earn it! Otherwise, slink back to your Imperial buddies, and I promise the next time we meet, my warhammer will smash your skull!”
As his eyes burned hot with anger, mine burned hot with tears. My breathing quickened as I took in his words like knives in my chest. My trembling lips parted to speak, but a voice from across the room interrupted me, “Enough, Galmar.” The Nord looked over his shoulder, but I had heard the voice enough to recognize it at Ulfric's. “I think she gets your point.”
My eyes stayed locked on Galmar as he pulled away from me, looking a little caught off guard. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough,” the Jarl grumbled. He closed the door which I assumed lead into his quarters, and walked to the table at the middle of the room. “I'll admit, I listened to your civil conversation through the door but when I heard the venom in your voice I let curiosity get the better of me.” Despite the tenderness of his words, I could tell by the look in his eye he was more than a little annoyed.
“You could have intervened if you saw a problem,” Galmar mumbled defensively, he walked to meet Ulfric at the table.
“I suppose I wanted to see you really trusted our little spy, or me.” Ulfric held his glare until Galmar looked away. “If I trust her and you can't, I suppose you'll just have to trust me.” As his gaze shifted to me, the look in his eyes softened. He motioned for me to approach, which I hesitantly did. I hid my tremblingly hands behind my back out of respect, but also because I didn't want to give either one of them any more indications that Galmar terrified me. “I'm surprised to see you back so early.”
I nodded. “I was sent to see Tullius yesterday morning. I saw what information he had a figured I needed to bring it here as soon as possible.” I kept my gaze averted for the most part, only stealing glances between the two men. “If I overstepped any boundaries, I sincerely apology. I just believe I should receive the faith I've given.”
“You're insubordinate an-”
Galmar was cut off by Ulfric. “I will agree that you deserve some trust. It isn't wise, though, to speak against your higher-ups.” I stole a glance at Galmar to see his smug smile. Ulfric was not amused. “Normally, Galmar would hand out the punishments to insubordinate soldiers, but as I recall, you haven't even been sworn in yet.” He glanced at Galmar. “I suppose that means he has no power over you yet.”
Galmar growled, “Are you just looking for a way to bail this Imperial out of trouble?”
Ulfric crossed his arms over his wide chest, shooting the other male a warning glance. “Normal punishment would be labor or time in cell. Never have I seen you so up-in-arms with an insubordinate that you tear them down and terrify them enough that them tremble before you.” Galmar started a rebuttal, but Ulfric's slightly louder voice silenced him. “Regardless, I think you got your point across.”
“I-...” I started speaking, but had to rephrase them. “You don't have to rectify anything he said, Jarl Ulfric. I was out of line. I should have simply left my findings and headed home.”
My agreeance seemed to have Galmar at a loss for words. He looked at Ulfric who in turn looked at me. “No, you should have been heard out. That's what we do for anyone else, so that's what we do for you. You won't be treated any differently that the other soldiers, because of race or Galmar's personal convictions.”
The smile that tugged at my cheeks was bittersweet. While I appreciated his support, I could almost feel the rift between Galmar and myself widening. “Thank you, sir,” I muttered in a voice above a soft whisper. After Ulfric nodded, I asked, “Is there anything you need from me, sir? If not, I should be heading home.”
The Jarl shook his head. “I don't need anything from you, but I suggest waiting out the storm here. Wuunferth's scrying suggests it will be a blizzard by the time it reaches here, so it would be unwise to travel, especially alone.” He glanced away in thought before continuing, “Feel free to use your room from your last stay. Rest, recover, and after the storm you can return home. As I understand, you haven't slept in quite awhile.”
I laughed lightly with a nod. “No sir, I haven't.”
His lips also tugged into a small smile. “Then you certainly shouldn't be traveling. Wash up in the soldier's barracks and I'll have one of the servants bring a change of clothes and food to your room.” The way he spoke was less of a suggestion and more of an order, not that I was going to turn down the offer. I wanted nothing more than to clean up and get some sleep. I bowed my head, saluting as I assumed he planned on dismissing me. As I turned to leave, he called to get my attention, “Talia? When you wake, I want you to find me before you leave. I want you to do something for me, but I want to run it by Galmar in private first.”
Galmar glanced at him. “Do you now? You haven't been running much of this conversation by me. I was beginning to feel left out.”
Ulfric growled softly at his friend's taunt, but didn't speak anymore on it. I continued on as if I didn't hear Galmar's statement. “I will, my Jarl.” I was nearly to the door when I remembered Drablek. “Oh, sirs?” They both looked back at me. “There was an orc, Drablek gro-Something-or-Other. He said he had been a Stormcloak for awhile. He escaped Tullius' prison and I helped him come here. He wants to speak with you later today as well. If you need proof to verify any of what I have written, I'm sure he knows just as much as I do.”
“Drablek?” Galmar asked, looking even more dumbfounded. “I know him. He hates Imperial's as much as I do.”
“We seemed to get along fairly well,” I told him, opening the door. “Maybe there's hope for us yet, sir.”
Unexpectedly, Ulfric chuckled at my joke. It was a deep, soft noise that left his lips like the purr of a cat. I hadn't expected to get a reaction from either one of them, but that wasn't the reason my chest tightened. The sound made me happy, filling my core with a warm feeling. I smiled, but kept my face turned from him. The rosy blush that dusted my cheeks didn't fade as he mumbled, “I doubt it. Galmar is far more stubborn that any orc.” His partner scoffed before Ulfric continued, “I'll have Jorleif keep watch for him. Thank you.”
I nodded once more before dismissing myself and closing the door behind me. While the feeling in my chest continued to swell, I wouldn't entertain the thoughts that darted through my mind. I'm sure more people than I thought he was charming. The laugh and smile I had somehow coaxed from the usually stoic individual was probably a once in a blue moon event. Likewise, he seemed more interested in keeping the peace between us than merely standing up for me. The fleeting emotion of a childish crush was simply that, and there was no reason to dwell on it longer.
~ ~ ~
After a hot bath and a fresh meal, I disappeared into the room Ulfric had set aside for me. It felt nice to be out of my cold armor and into fresh linens. I found a layered tunic dress and clean undergarments laid out on the warm quilted blankets. A fur coat and boots waited by the door for me to use if I wanted to venture into the elements, but nothing appealed more to me than crawling into the sheets and sleeping. After changing, I immediately indulged myself in illusive slumber and didn't wake for hours.
I could have slept the entire day if I hadn't sensed the presence of another in the room. I wasn't overly worried, seeing how I doubted the Jarl would let anyone dangerous into his Palace, but I still clenched the dagger I had stashed under the pillow. I allowed my eyes to peek open, a smile warming my face as I saw a female's figure walking towards the bed. “Kaita?”
The Nord hummed in amusement. “Aye. Are my feet so heavy you could hear me coming? I like to imagine myself a sneak.”
I chuckled softly, “No, I'm just a light sleeper. Especially in unfamiliar places.” I slowly sat up, stretching my arms above my head with a wide yawn.
“If there is any place to feel safe in Skyrim, it's here,” she boasted proudly. “Jarl Ulfric has made sure his city is heavily fortified, and those seeking asylum within these halls are protected. Who would be foolish enough to hurt you under Ulfric's protection?”
I considered answering her with the most terrifying answer on my mind, the Dark Brotherhood, but I figured I didn't need to worry her or any other Stormcloak with my own personal problems. I simply shrugged and glanced at the window. The bright sunlight filtering through the frosted panes had me reason it was still early afternoon. “Time to get up, I suppose.”
She nodded slightly, a small smirk on her face. “Yes, but not for the reason you'd think.” I cocked a brow before climbing from the warm sheets and walking to my cleaned armor. Kaita continued with a grin, “Do you have any idea why a drunkard just came through the main hall crying about a Legionnaire busting his nose?”
I stifled a laugh, rolling my eyes. “He said that did he?” I began changing as Kaita took a seat, feet propped against the windowsill. “Let it be known I wasn't the one to throw the punch. The orc, Drablek, did in my defense.”
Kaita snorted. “You don't have to explain yourself to me. Luckily, the orc was giving his testament to Galmar at the time, so it didn't take much to find out who was in the wrong.” She shut her eyes briefly. “I just wish I would have been there.”
I finished dressing in silence, thinking about how to approach the next topic on my mind. Finally I asked, “Do you know about the problems in the Gray Quarter?”
She looked over at me, setting the chair back down on its four legs. “I do,” she started, scrunching up her nose slightly. “It's always been bad over there, but I didn't know it was that bad.” The look I had must have betrayed my next question. “As for Ulfric and Galmar, I'm sure they had some idea of what was going on, but it's definitely gotten worse since the war started. They've been so busy with planning the war, I'm sure they've neglected some of their duties.” She sighed, glancing out the window again. “Serlyn and Bjorn used to live out there. I'm sure they'd be disgusted if they heard how bad it's gotten.”
“Ulfric won't do anything to help out?” I asked, curiously.
Kaita sighed heavily. “It's not that he won't, it's more that he can't. None of the elves have come to complain, and it's not like any of the Nords are going to do it on their behalf. We've got guards out there, but they must be blind.” She scoffed slightly, rising to her feet. “Tell you what, I''ll personally have a look when we finish up here. I'll note what's wrong and tell Galmar. It might take a little convincing, but I'll get him to fix it.”
I nodded softly. “Thank you.”
She smirked and walked over to me. “You really do care about helping people, don't you?”
I laughed shyly, shrugging. “I don't like injustice. I think that's why I'll get along better with you Stormcloaks. The Empire is far too passive for my liking.”
She smiled widely, opening the door for me. “That's what I like to hear! A girl after my own heart!”
I rolled my eyes as I left the room and started towards the stairs. “How are you feeling? Is your side still sore?”
“From that Spriggan?” At the mention of the wound, she instinctively touched her side. “Ah, no. It's healed up nicely thanks to your quick action and the Wizard's healing.” She followed me down the stairs as she continued, “Thank you, again.”
I nodded. “Of course. My only regret is no preventing it.”
She scoffed, shaking her head, “No one can predict a Spriggan. You did great for never fighting one before.” As we drew close to the main hall, we heard voices talking loudly. “Gods, these two are always debating something.”
Galmar was standing to Ulfric's right, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The Jarl was sitting in the throne. I only caught the last of his words, so I was unsure what they were talking about. Galmar started to answer before he caught sight of me leaving the stairwell. “Ah, get enough beauty rest, Imperial?” His words were as harsh as ever.
I simply nodded. “I was more exhausted than I realized.” When Galmar scoffed, I glanced at Ulfric, unable to hold his gaze longer than a few seconds. “I heard you had a visitor while I was sleeping.”
Kaita giggled behind me. “Must have been drinking since he woke up to work of the courage to come in here. I smelled him the moment he came in.”
Galmar groaned. “He has right as everyone else does to complain, and rightfully so. A soldier assaulting a civilian.”
Kaita tutted, “Aye, a civilian drunk who was harassing a Dunmer woman. I believe a soldier would have an excuse then.”
“Enough,” Ulfric grumbled, cutting Galmar off before he could rebuttal. “We have settled the issue for the moment and we have more business to attend to.” His hazel eyes looked down at me. “Talia, if you're ready, I will have Galmar officially welcome you into our ranks. From here on, you are one of us. You will be held to our standards-”
“And our disciplines,” Galmar interrupted.
“You will be our equal, and you will have our trust,” Kaita added, shooting Galmar an annoyed glare. She then smiled softly at me. “I'll be witness and testify to your prowess. You are deserving to be called a Stormcloak.”
I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. “I'm ready,” I answered, looking at Kaita, then Galmar, and finally Ulfric. I noted the small smile on his lips as well as he met my gaze, motioning to Galmar.
The old Nord growled softly, but none the less did as his king requested. As he spoke, I repeated each phrase:
“I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak,
Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim.
As Talos is my witness, my this oath bind me to death and beyond,
even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms.
All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"
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