Chapter 528: Definitely Delphine
"So let me get this straight, woman... You want to confirm that I'm Dragonborn by having me kill a dragon that might not even be there." Surtr asks Delphine as they walk out of Riverwood towards Kynesgrove.
The blonde Breton nods, "Yes, what's so strange about that? I am confident that Alduin will act as he has been, following the path the Dragonstone set, and reviving its kin from the dragon burial."
Surtr shakes his head, "No, I don't give a shit about the dragon burial, I can believe that... What I cannot believe is you still thinking I am some, fraud! A liar! Most of Whiterun knows what I did! The guards saw me do it! I can use the Thu'um better than a man with twenty years of learning!"
Delphine sniffs at him, "Whether or not your arrogance is well-founded, we'll find out."
"And if I'm not the Dragonborn? You know we will both be killed if it turns out I am lying." he growls.
...
"That is a risk I'll have to take." she admits.
"And the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller? Who are you to impede the Dragonborn's education of the Thu'um? Is what you provide better than anything the Greybeards know? Or are you the one letting your arrogance rule your thinking?" he grouses.
"I'm one of the last Blades, Surtr, we follow the Dragonborn and give our lives to serve. I NEED to know whether or not I am following the right person... And don't speak of those old mountain hermits to me, would they know anything about the dragon burials? The prophecy? Or are they too busy meditating, high on their own self-importance!?"
Surtr grips her shoulder, actually causing her to grunt from the strength of it, "You can call yourself a 'Blade' all you want, but to me, you're just a sad tavern wench with a sex-dungeon. Think I'd be happy to have weak and useless lackeys like you? While you disrupt my training with the Greybeards you strong-arm me into traipsing across Skyirm for what, a test? To deal with a dragon I might not even be ready for!?" he lets her go and walks ahead, "I barely survived my last encounter, and that was with most of Whiterun, the Companions, and two Hammerfell Blade-Masters."
Surtr shakes his head with an almost humour expression on his face, "And what do I get this time? Minimal training with the Thu'um, and some decrepit slave of the Emperor. I have half the mind to head back to High Hrothgar and leave you to your doom."
"And let Kynegrove burn?" Delphine asks, mildly panicking at the chance of Surtr simply leaving.
"You mean, let it burn without me inside it? Yes."
"I... We wouldn't be alone in this. I contacted Kjeld and Ulfric's General, Galmar Stone-Fist. We should have a large force of Stormcloaks supporting us... They think they'll have the support of the Dragonborn."
...
Surtr grits his teeth as he turns to her, "I will go, but if you use my name again without my permission. I will hurl you off of the top of the Throat. Do you understand, wench?"
Delphine nods, "I do..."
"Good, because I won't repeat myself. Mark my words."
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Surtr and Delphine reach Kynesgrove a couple days later, the former's patience with the Blade even less than before due to her incessant chatter during the journey. Yes, he hated the Thalmor as much as the next Nord, but using his feelings to try and garner his trust in such an obvious and artificial manner made him want to crack her head on the nearest stone.
The woman's sense of entitlement and arrogance didn't make sense to him. She was one of the last members of a group of dragon hunters that was extinguished by the Thalmor... Which, when you thought about it, didn't make sense... If they were supposedly strong enough to take on dragons, the Knife-ears wouldn't pose any threat to them... Perhaps they just followed the Emperor around and carried his luggage?
"Over there, they're waiting for us." Delphine says, pointing to the hastily constructed ugly-looking watch tower that'd been built on the outskirts of Kynesgrove.
"You mean, they're waiting for me." Surtr can't help but retort as he marches ahead. "You know what will happen to you should you be wrong about this, wench?"
Delphine frowns at the nickname that'd been thrust upon her, "Yes... But I am sure I know what's going on. The Dragonstone said it all."
"And how would an ancient tablet know when a dragon is going to be resurrected... I'm just looking forward to seeing you thrown in a cell."
"Halt! Who goes there!" A Stormcloak soldier exclaims as the duo approaches.
"Surtr of Stonehills, Dragonborn."
"Delphine of Riverwood."
"Ah, Galmar is waiting for you in the Braidwood inn!"
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"Aha! Surtr you big bastard! About time you showed your face!" a voice exclaims as the duo enter the inn.
"Ralof?" Surtr asks, spotting the grinning Nord, "I'm surprised you're still alive, to be honest." he remarks.
"Ah? What do you mean? I'm as spry as any man!"
"You might be, but I know only one who'd run into dragon fire to save a fellow prisoner..." Surtr smirks, giving Ralof a spartan handshake. "Maybe you just haven't gotten the chance to try again?"
Ralof chuckles, "Probably! I've taken some arrows to the chest, but dragon fire? Think the scars I get will be impressive?"
"Impressively burnt. I'm sure you remember those blackened bodies in Helgen..."
"Aye, looking like the rations Windhelm gives us." Ralof laughs before escorting Surtr further into the inn to where Galmar is, ignoring Delphine entirely.
"Ah, it's you lad... Dragonborn, huh? How's it feel? Any different to the rest of us 'peasants'?" Galmar asks as they approach, putting down his mug of ale.
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