Kapitel 3: 2. Escaping the Dragon
.
.
.
"Guards! Get the townspeople to safety!" the general shouted as the sky shook under the whim of the dragon's cry. The red-haired vampire cursed under her breath as thunderous orbs of fire rained down upon the village of Helgen, setting the fort settlement ablaze.
The two rushed underneath the stone archway towards the keep and away from the centre. The small platoon of twelve soldiers was reduced to seven under the initial barrage, but they followed nonetheless as they attempted to regroup with the larger squads stationed around the fort's entrances and garrison.
"Did anyone drive an arrow in that traitor's throat before they ran!?"
"We can deal with him later, palatine! For now, focus on the citizens and pray the dragon kills the Stormcloaks for us!"
"Grr! Fine!"
The sound of crumbling around them alerted them to the collapsing stone archways behind them and near the exit of the fort leading towards the Falkreath hold. Two of their exits were sealed off, forcing them to either head inside the keep or regroup near the stables with the rest.
"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing!" Tullius ordered as he and the palatine entered the courtyard and their eyes caught sight of the oblivion grey scales of the dragon soaring above. Then the damn thing landed on a building right next to them and roared.
「Yol Toor Shul!」
Fire quickly engulfed the courtyard. Those who bore them hid behind their shields, and others behind them. The palatine grabbed Tullius and shoved him behind her just in time to summon a ward. "Where are the battlemages, Tullius!?"
"I was wondering the same thing!"
The searing heat vanished as the dragon flew upwards. "Zu'u uth fin krasnovaar sos do aan dey dovah. Nikriin us zu'u, Alduin!"
For an unknown reason, the dragon's words resonated deep within the undead sorceress's blood. However, knowing her priorities, she focused instead on the troops around her. Golden light emerged from her palms as a large ring encompassed the field and healed the injured of their burns.
A lone soldier emerged from the destroyed building the dragon had just landed on, a young boy being carried in his arms. "Hadvar!" Tullius shouted, "Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!"
"But the people!?"
"They're coming, too! Just go!" The middle-aged Imperial jumped onto an abandoned wagon and started signalling the townspeople with a wave of his sword, shouting at the top of his lungs and praying to the Divines that the halo would encourage them to move faster. "Soldiers, townspeople, and dregs into the keep! Everyone, now!"
Fewer civilians and soldiers than he liked were alive to hear his call, and even fewer could follow it. The desperate risked the burning gates or even jumped off the walls, but only a handful had managed to get into the keep and to safety.
"C'mon, kid! We got to go! Yesterday!" Linnea grabbed the general's wrist and, with unnatural strength, heaved him onto her shoulder as she and the other Legionaries ran into the keep behind the townspeople. Once inside she dropped him onto his feet, to spare him at least a little dignity.
The two quickly parted, Linnea going to heal the injured and Tullius to talk with the guards.
"Is anyone gravely wounded?" she asked with as soothing a tone as she could. None of the people gave a verbal response through their shock, though the injured soldiers were at least able to give her a nod. She walked over to the bed where a young Breton in legion armour was holding his side surrounded by his fellow Legionaries. His eyes were closed and his breaths were heavy, and she felt a pang go through her unbeaten heart when she recognised him through the burns covering half of his face.
"Esmenr, right?" she asked him. Only one eye opened to look at her, the other seared together by the eyelids. She didn't grimace at the sight, though. Instead, she grabbed his hand and held it close. "You signed up with the battlemages a year ago, right? Fresh out of an apprenticeship, and decided to wear some crimson gambison."
Though he wanted to make a confused expression, the pain it inflicted on his face made him flinch instead. "H-How did you…know that?"
She smiled. "I was your proctor. You excelled at Restoration and Alteration magic, but your Destruction was miserable. Three firebolts and you always missed the target. The captain who enlisted you later told me that your bunkmates started calling you 'Dishonourable Discharge', though he expected that was for a different reason."
That got a pained chuckle out of him and his friends, an inside joke she didn't get but had a suspicion about.
"He and a Dibellan lass got to know each other very well if you catch my meanin'!" A middle-aged Imperial hollered. "Paraded around the mark she gave him like he had earned a bloody medal!"
"Then, when we were all on leave after a tour around Bruma, one of us ended up meeting her in a bar without knowing it!" started an auburn-haired Nord woman. "She started going on and on about this guy who kept finishing so early. Then, midway through the conversation, she points at the door as it opens revealing poor Esmenr and says 'There he is right now'!"
"Urgh…you're all…bastards…!" the injured lad cursed through gritted teeth, trying to suppress a smile, while those who had heard the story laughed through sad tears, even the stressed civilians who were too afraid to utter a word before managed a few smiles and chuckles.
No one expected him to survive. And yet, in the face of their comrade's death, they all sought solace in hilarity. It's a sight that's been all too common in the last few decades. The Great War with the Aldmeri Dominion, its preludes, and the aftermath that the Empire had spent the past twenty years cleaning up. Bandits took advantage of the weakness in security, even the Traitor himself liberated Markarth from the Reachman almost thirty years ago in the now infamous "Markarth Incident." All it left was injured men and women begging to survive.
Linnea, even as a vampire who feeds upon them all like cattle, who would feed upon them like cattle, grew to despise the despairing sight.
She reached into the pack she had brought with her, now covered in soot from the billowing ash, and pulled out a yellow vial that she uncorked and placed into the hand of the soldier in front of her.
"Do you want to live, soldier?" she asked. The gentle laughter around them stopped when her solid voice pierced the noise.
The Breton boy looked at the vial with his brown eyes, a glimmer of hope entering them at her words. Slowly, he nodded, fear causing his lips to quiver.
"I'm going to need you to say it, Esmenr Morrliocque."
"I…I want…to live…" he answered with tears brimming in his eyes.
She smiled. "Then muster up your strength, and drink."
She let go of his hand holding the vial. His fingers, weak from blood loss, almost dropped it. But barely, just barely, managed to tighten around it before it all could spill out and in a surge of will barely managed to throw his arm up to his mouth so he could chug the contents.
There, he fell asleep. His breathing evened out and all stress from the pain faded away. His body was enwreathed in a golden light as she situated herself on the floor beside him, her hands stretched out towards him. "He'll be unconscious as his body dedicates all the magicka and nutrients he has to heal his wounds. Someone will need to carry him from here."
"I'll do it," replied the Imperial. Linnea noticed how he was holding his wrist. From the inflammation alone she could tell it was sprained, though luckily not broken. She nodded in acceptance.
Linnea and the soldiers all turned to the sound of footfalls approaching them to see the general. "Palatine."
"General."
"One of the guards told me that another soldier, Hadvar is his name, went down further into the fort moments before we came in here. Stormcloaks got in here before us and he decided to take them all on alone. The fools don't seem to realise that we're still being attacked by a blasted dragon of all things and attacked him on sight. Someone should go catch up with him, but most of my men are injured to some degree.
"If we can confirm the acclimation of the storage room then you won't need to keep healing everyone, there should be healing potions as per regulations. Past that is the dungeons, deeper underground, so we'll have to worry less about the roof coming in on our heads."
Her pearlescent blue eyes went back to the injured man in front of her as a smirk morphed its way onto her face. "Is your sword arm ready, old man?"
He chuffed. "When is yours ever, hag?"
She stood up and walked with him towards the lifted gate before turning to a soldier who moved to follow them. "Wait here with the civilians and start organising everyone to help move the debilitated faster. When you hear a wolf barking, the way is clear."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a salute.
The tan-skinned Imperial and ghostly pale Nord marched through the dimly lit hallway, Tullius drawing his gladius and Linnea drawing her estoc. When they entered the antechamber of the keep Linnea couldn't help but whistle at the sight of four dead Stormcloakes lying on the ground and took a whiff of the air.
"All the blood spilt in here belongs to the deceased," she commented. "How long has this Halvor been with the Legion?"
"He was already going to be promoted out of auxiliary and to private. Didn't expect him to be able to do something like this, though," Tullius said as he went to open the door.
"Eh, don't be surprised if we find him on his knees in a minute. From the way they were sitting it looked like he got 'em by surprise," she replied as she went down the stairs. "Any decent soldier would be able to take at least two people out if they have the advantage like that."
"Always the nitpicker," Tullius snarked as he pulled a torch from the wall. "You and Legate Rikke are gonna get along."
"Don't expect me to stay long. The second the war is over I'm getting dishonourably discharged."
"The Order will be fine with that? Thought they liked to keep their fangs in their assets."
"They don't get a choice," she answered with venom in her voice. "Titus has already started to set a few things in motion that'll make my position as a palatine irrelevant without an adjoining title. I'd just be another member of the Imperial Guard's retinue and who knows how his successor would feel about the Order, let alone myself."
"You're also the sole member of your house, one granted to you directly by the Emperor, and has served as Titus' chamberlain since the end of the war. I'm not going to acknowledge what you mean by a successor but they'd be a fool to not acknowledge your position."
"Or they could be afraid of it," she muttered before readying her blade. "Enough. I hear clashing up ahead, get ready."
"Mm."
Once they entered a door by some rubble that had collapsed from the ceiling they were able to see Hadvar fighting against two Stormcloaks. One with a greathammer and the other with a hand axe. Hadvar raised his shield to block an overhead swing from the greathammer, but the force of the strike knocked him to his knees. The Stormcloak with the axe came from the side with the intent of severing his shield arm, but Hadvar fended him away with his sword.
"Die, Imperial dog!" snarled the one wielding the greathammer as he prepared for another swing, determined to break both Hadvar's shield arm and the shield itself. However, a long, slender blade made from polished ebony stabbed itself through the back of his throat and through his mouth.
"What the- hukg!" Just as the other Stormcloak noticed his comrade's death, he found a gladius stabbing through his throat and down to his heart.
Hadvar breathed a sigh of relief as the two shoved the bodies to the side and moved to clean their blades on the pits of their arm. Linnea studied him for a second and realised that he was desperately tired and needed a breather.
"You good there, soldier?" Tullius asked as Linnea reached her hand out for him to pull himself up with.
"Yes, General. Thank you, I just…need a second to catch my breath."
"See, what'd I tell you? On his knees," Linnea snorted. Her gaze turned towards the several dozen barrels stacked in one corner and she gestured at them with her one free hand. "Take it this is the storeroom?"
"Yes. Go ahead and call the others down."
A spectral wolf emerged from a whorling umbral portal in front of the trio before taking off up the stairs.
"General, there are more Stormcloaks downstairs, past the dungeon."
"We'll deal with them in a second, son. Right now we need to make sure the injured get down here safely."
"No, General, there's…" the young Nord started, but a small look of regret came over his face before he continued. "A boy I grew up with joined the rebels, and was with the group destined for the chopping block. We and a few other kids in the area found a cave under Helgen leading to the dungeon's bowels. It's walled up, but the stones were loose, and if the dragon was able to cause that to happen…"
He gestured to the door that led to the hallway where they passed a section of the ceiling that was caved in. Immediately the other two understood the situation.
"Then the wall will likely have collapsed, and your friend would lead them to it if he lived. It could be a way out, but if they decide to hide in the cave…" Linnea muttered.
"They'd block us in here between a dragon attack and them if they could. We have the supplies, but they have the only trustworthy exit." Tullius rubbed his chin in thought before nodding. "Hadvar, Legate Palatine Linnea will clear the way. The two of you head to Riverwood and see if they can shelter the refugees for a few days, tell them the Legion will come by to help relieve them but we have to get to Solitude to make the preparations. When the way is clear and the dragon is gone grab whatever help you can and come to dig us all out. Am I clear?"
"Yes, General!" Hadvar said with a salute.
"Good." Tullius nodded. "Linnea, try to make it fast, will you? But don't scare the kid."
"No promises," she said as she unsheathed her estoc and started marching towards the stairs, Hadvar in tow.
As the two descended the brief flight of stairs they came across the sight of two Stormcloaks standing over the deceased bodies of a torturer and his assistant. The Nord man and woman readied their battleaxe and greatsword respectively, Hadvar doing the same by raising his shield and sword.
Before the battle could begin, however, the two Stormcloaks were bathed in an explosive red glow and their aggression spiked to an uncontrollable frenzy. The second the man entered the line of sight of the woman she slammed the blade of the greatsword into his armoured side, the chainmail cracking and bending where the massive iron blade hit as his ribs fractured.
Blind to the pain, however, he swung his battleaxe at her legs, cutting one of them off at the shins. Mid-fall she swung the blade in her hands upwards and cut his jaw off at the base. As the blood from his throat began to fill his lungs, he swung the axe down one more time at the prone woman. And again. And again
Then his attention was drawn to the duo of Imperials off to the side and he broke into a charge. As he readied his axe to swing at them the weight, seemingly more vast than ever before, threw him off balance and onto the floor where he continued to drown in his own blood.
Hadvar saw Linnea looking at the two young Nords who had died without a hint of mercy. She simply stepped over them and picked up the steel dagger the torturer had dropped. "Let's go," she said, snapping Hadvar out of his stupor.
The barely twenty-year-old Nord looked at the scene apprehensively as they exited the dungeon and into the hallway full of cells. "Did…did you have to do it like that?"
"You can pity them after we're done, but not when I'm about to kill more of them," she spoke with an edge to her voice. "We've all made our choice, kid. They chose to draw their weapons. They chose to fight."
"I know…but seeing something like that is just…"
She stopped and sighed, and turned back around to face him. "How long have you been in the Legion?"
"Umm…almost four months since I've left training now."
"How many conflicts have you been in?"
"Five. Mostly bandits and patrol skirmishes, but I was there when we captured the rebels."
"So you're telling me you have yet to enter a large-scale conflict? A siege?"
"No…no, ma'am."
"So you haven't killed a lot of people yet?"
Her cold blue eyes, barely visible in the dark light and beneath the brim of her hat, chilled him to the bone and froze him in place. "I can still count them on two hands if that means anything." He said awkwardly.
"That's still a lot," she smirked. "For a civilian. But you're not a civilian anymore. You're a soldier. One in the middle of a war, no less. So get used to killing, through whatever means necessary if you have to. But if you ever find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, remembering the faces and voices of the people you've killed, know that every soldier has. Every mercenary. Every knight. And when you stop doing so, question yourself as to why. Because once you pass that point, if it ever comes, the worth of your very soul has come into question."
She began stepping away again, casually flipping the knife in her left hand causing the light of the torches to reflect off of a ring bearing a large yellow gem. "If it makes you feel better, I do enjoy killing. But that doesn't stop me from pitying some of my victims either. Sometimes its better to just know that you survived. That you weren't them."
Linnea kept walking away, her boots being the only footfalls that could be heard for a solid minute as she rounded the corner and left Hadvar's line of sight. She smiled when she heard him begin to follow her again.
Once the duo passed through the collapsed wall that Hadvar had told them about, they entered an old cave that had been refurbished long ago into a sewer system. Linnea crouched down in the shadows, Hadvar joining behind her as the duo heard a group of Stormcloaks speaking ahead.
"Where in Oblivion are we supposed to go? Where's the way out?"
"Just give me a minute. Let me think."
A dark blue glow began to illuminate Linnea's hand and stretch up to her eyes. Linnea could see through the walls the glowing aura of the Stormcloaks as they walked around the underground structure.
"Two on the opposite side, two in the middle, one closer to us," she whispered to Hadvar. "I'll go in towards the middle. You can follow, or you can stay, you don't have to fight."
She didn't wait for him to answer and moved faster than he could track with his eye.
A Nord man standing in the centre of the cave found a long black blade piercing his stomach from behind. His cry of anguish drew the attention of the others around him. To their right, an archer. Descending the stairs in front of them, an axemen. To their left, across a small bridge over the small river, a swordswoman.
The archer, before he could draw an arrow, found a steel dagger thrown into his eye.
The axemen, holding the axe close to the blade and further down the haft, tried to slam the blade down into her arm still stabbing his comrade. She let go of the sword and rolled around the right side of the man she stabbed, grabbing his shield by the edge and his iron sword in an underhanded grip.
She flicked the grip into a normal hold and drove it into the throat of the axemen just as he tried to bash her with the butt of the axe.
The second archer came out to see that three of his fellow rebels had died, his bow at the ready, and quickly began to fired an arrow at the woman responsible. Linnea raised the shield to catch the arrow and quickly climbed over the balcony with inhuman speed and ease, catching another three hastily fired arrows in the process. As she charged at him he quickly drew a dagger to defend himself and found his bow being wrenched from his own hands. Before he could swing at her he found the edge of the shield being bashed into his chin. The force behind it snapped his neck with a loud crunch.
The redhead turned around to find Hadvar, on the other side of the cave, drawing his sword out of the kneeling corpse of the swordswoman she left alone. He looked at her and she smiled at the look of resolution he had and went to retrieve her ebony estoc and the bag she dropped.
"Let's see what this does," Hadvar said as the duo approached a draw bridge within the cave and pulled a lever. Predictably, it lowered, but the duo heard a loud roar as they crossed and were left to rush to the other side as parts of the ceiling crashed over the bridge and destroyed it, caving in the way back and for the others to come out.
Linnea simply sighed before marching further into the cave to clear the rest of the way.
—-
"General!? What in Oblivion happened to you?"
"That's a long story, Rikke," Tullius answered as he and the Palatine entered Castle Dour.
"The more pressing matter is that we didn't get to execute Ulfric Stormcloak before we got attacked by a dragon," addressed the Palatine as she entered the war room and plopped herself into the first chair she found.
"And this is?"
"Oh, right. Linnea, this is Legate Rikke, my translator for lack of a better word while I'm here in Skyrim," Tullis started as he began to unstrap his chest plate. "Rikke, this is Legate Linnea of House Ravenwatch. Don't be surprised that you haven't run into each other, she's from the Imperial Guard and came here to oversee Ulfric's execution."
"Ravenwatch, huh?" Rikke started with a wary look. "So, are the rumours true about…"
"Yes, Legate Rikke, they are. And the Emperor was fully aware when he granted me my title."
"Ok," the Nord said as she took a deep breath and leaned onto the war table. "So, we have a vampire, you said Ulfric escaped, and what was that about a dragon?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Helgen was raised to the ground. We managed to save some of the residents, but we can only hope that the rest managed to make it into the woods."
"Speaking of. Rikke, when you get the chance to do so send a convoy to Riverwood to bring them to Solitude."
"Will do, General."
"Thank you. Now, need to figure out what this dragon is doing here and why it appeared now of all times," Tullius, now free of his armour said leaning against the table.
"It said its name was Alduin," Linnea answered as she reached into her pack and pulled out a tempered jar full of crimson ichor.
"When?" Tullius asked incredulously.
"When it spoke after trying to turn us to ashes. 'Zu'u' roughly translates to 'self' in the dragon tongue. And towards the end of its speech, it said 'something something zu'u, Alduin'."
"Alduin…why does that name sound familiar," murmured Rikke.
"Because he's the Old God of the ancient Nords that served as their interpretation of Akatosh. The Twilight God, Alduin, and the harbinger of the end of the current kalpa, or world."
"Great, so we're dealing with the opposite of the Oblivion Crisis, now?"
"You also seem to know a lot about this stuff, Legate?" Rikke said with suspicion.
"That's because the founder of House Ravenwatch, Verandis Ravenwatch, has been alive since the First Era. You don't live for that long without amassing a collection of knowledge and when you're ass is thoroughly beaten, kidnapped, and dragged away to spend thirty years locked in the same manor without being allowed to leave…" Linnea shrugged before taking a swig from the container in her hands. "That being said, I don't think it's another Oblivion Crisis. The dragons are children of Akatosh, not the Dragon God of Time himself. And if it is the same Alduin as the one that appeared then we'll have to worry more about the rebirth of the Dragon Cult than the world ending. And we just so happened to have lost the last known Dragonborn in the Oblivion Crisis. Hey, Rikke, do you know if the Wolf Queen had any children before dying?"
"If she did then they would have likely been killed when the siege broke and Solitude was reclaimed."
"Dammit."
"Why would it matter if we had a Dragonborn, anyway."
"High King Ysmir Wulfharth, Saint Alessia, Queen Potema, and even Talos, all of them are attributed to having their unnatural strength come from their Dragon Blood despite being mere Nedes and Nords. It's even rumoured that Dragonborn can absorb the very souls of dragons. Wouldn't that be handy, right now?"
"This matter involving the dragons and dealing with them can wait. I'm not even convinced the Thalmor aren't behind it, considering they tried to convince me to release Ulfric to their custody before the execution," Tullius started.
"So they could conveniently 'lose him' I bet."
"We need to begin preparations to fully end the conflict with the Stormcloaks. You've spent too long being diplomatic with each other, but we can't wage a war on two fronts and if more dragons are gonna show up to burn villages then we need to have as many resources available as we can."
"About that, General."
"Yes, Rikke?"
"I've been looking into a matter that may further cement in the minds of the other Jarls that Ellisif is the rightful ruler. But I'll need some more time to see if it's true before we send our troops into a draugr-infested tomb."
"Legate, I just discussed why we shouldn't be spreading our sources thin."
"And you won't. Just me and a handful of men should be able to retrieve the artefact in question."
"If it's tomb raiding then you should probably take me along," Linnea said as she stood to join them at the table. "I'm an expert at restoration magic and a master at necromancy. Besides, I've always wanted to see what the inside of a Nordic tomb is like."
"I agree," Tullius said. "But, right now, Legate Palatine, I want you to go to Whiterun and speak with the Jarl there. It's in the centre of Skyrim and it's the land with the most farms. So far Balgruuf has been neutral, but both us and the Stormcloaks want him and Whiterun Hold on our side."
"Hmmm, fine," Linnea spoke. "Hadvar and I saw the dragon fly that way when we left the caves anyway, so it might become a target in the future. What's the infrastructure like there, Rikke?"
"Wood."
"Yeah, I was afraid of that…"
"You can out with the convoy heading towards Riverwood. For now, rest up. Seems your trip here was going to be more eventful than you planned, Palatine," Tullius said with a mirthful smirk towards the redhead.
"Never an easy day in the Legion, is there?"
""Nope.""
.
.
.
—- Titles and definitions —-
Palatine:
A palatine or palatinus is a high-level official attached to imperial or royal courts from the Roman Empire usually from the position of chamberlain. Later recognized as an additional title to other roles of the court such as counts, turned count palatine, to symbolise the holder's close, often friendly, connections to the royal court. They also served as representatives of the royal and imperial courts to oversee official duties in the stead of the ruler, such as oaths and executions. Considering the obvious Roman inspiration of the Cyrodilic Empire it felt natural to include a title from the age. Yes, this will have lore implications.
Legate:
General officers often associated with politics. Legates were below the rank of general, and would often command legions.
Imperial Guard:
The Imperial Guard, also called the Shadow Legion, was charged with the sole task of ensuring the personal safety and defence of the Tamrielic Emperors and various of their direct representatives across the provinces. The Guard was known as the greatest warrior mages in Tamriel and existed as an elite unit under the Imperial Legion umbrella. There was a traditional rivalry set between the Imperial Guard and their counterparts in the regular Legions. They kept their quarters and training hall within the Imperial Palace. The Imperial Guard seemingly utilised tamed creatures to help in their duties, such as Dragons, and Bears. A common Imperial Guardsman is not to be confused with a member of the Blades Guard, who served under the Imperial Guard umbrella in a more ceremonial role as the honour guard of Dragonborn Emperors.
For this story, Linnea would have the title of Legate within the Imperial Guard and the honorary title of Palatine. As she is not working with the Imperial Guard inside of Skyrim, her acting as a Palatine would take up most of her duties, thus she is scarcely referred to as Legate Palatine and is mostly referred to as simply Palatine.
.
.
.
.
A/N:
I started a Buy Me A Coffee page! This will have very little benefits as I'm unfortunately too busy to write a proper backlog to give subscribers early access to chapters without not updating for weeks period, but if you did wanna support me the membership is only $1 a month and you get access to exclusive chapters, abandoned fics, can put your input on polls when I have them, and other things I have yet to decide if I should add or not. The page mostly exists as a deposit page for any art I commission, as I am someone who likes to have images for the stories I write which is why I have so much ai art as character references on my other story. But I want to stop using ai. Which is another reason I started the page. I don't make enough money to validate requesting as many commissions as I would like to and this is a way for you guys to help me do exactly that. The link is on my bio on all platforms if you want to look into it, and uhh, trust me when I say my old fics were bad. Like, embarrassingly terrible writing.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein