Kapitel 8: 7
Whiterun is buzzing. The dragon flew by so fast that only a handful of people could have possibly seen it. It was enough. The city isn't in a panic but nervous energy has infected the citizens. Even if they aren't consciously aware of the dragon, everyone who's gone outside today knows something is up. Even I can't ignore the energy here, my heart rate elevated all throughout the city. The one blessing of the dragon sighting is that my two companions have finally calmed down. In a way.
After the initial 'Was that a dragon?' and 'Should we run?' conversations both merchants have become quite obedient and docile. Running was out of the question. The simple fact is that if that dragon wanted us, it could have us. I didn't need to elaborate the point further, the dragon disappeared from sight so fast my point was hammered home instantly. I did approve of us walking faster, however.
The mood through town is tense, and in our group as well. Seeing a dragon, even for a moment, seems to have affected my mercantile partners dramatically. Worryingly so. They haven't said much since then. The only real change to their demeanor came after we made it inside the city and they finally felt a bit safer. I would imagine that had they taken the dragon threat as seriously back when we started as they do now they probably would have never have agreed to leave Riverwood. In a way they are forced to follow me now, being too far from home to reasonably consider turning back without protection. Even if they were home this dragon encounter has made them realize that nowhere is truly safe, even Riverwood. It's a realization that they wouldn't have had to wrestle with had they just stayed at their shop and it makes swallowing the new reality all the harder for them.
When we finally arrive at the Bannered Mare, the inn in Whiterun, Lucan parks the kart in a suitable place and both he and Camilla grab each end of the trunk by the handle to carry it up the steps. It doesn't look too terribly heavy but it doesn't look light either. I wonder if the contents affect the weight of the chest even when it's an enchanted dimension of its own. These are, sadly, questions for people who aren't having a breakdown. The inside of the inn is fairly devoid of life, which is fair given its only the afternoon. Lucan and Camilla are able to get accommodations and we head further in to set them up. It's more of a hallway than a room to my eyes, but it has two beds and even a small window. It honestly looks cozy with its cream colored plaster being warmed by the sunlight. The two merchants that rest their haunches within it don't look nearly as warm. I can't really do anything to comfort them. The dragon has affected me too and I don't have the luxury of time anymore.
"Sooo…" I start.
Lucan lets out a great sigh, "I'll stay here. You two head up to Dragonsreach."
"But Lucan, I thought you wanted to visit the palace." Camilla remarks, surprised.
"I've been a fool. The dragon business is the most important thing we came to do here, even if I didn't want to admit it." Lucan admits miserably. "You two should get going as soon as you can. Don't worry about me, someone has to stay with the chest anyway."
"Lucan…" Camilla starts. "All right. Try not to go anywhere okay? I'm coming right back after."
"See you soon." Lucan replies, never quite looking me in the eye.
Camilla and I make our way out of the inn and up towards Dragonsreach in a brisk walk. I thought being in the city might be distracting for her but every time I glance back at her she's staring back at me, with a focus I haven't seen before. Up past many steps, beyond the Gildergleam and the temple, to more steps overlooking Jorrvaskr and finally at the top of the steps to reach the palace. The guards don't so much as say hello but let me pass in haste. The hall within is practically empty with only the usual guards at the perimeter. Making my way through to the lab I can hear the tell tale signs of a familiar conversation that I've heard a million times before from the game.
"You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier." Farengar says. "I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other later texts."
"Good." replies the voice of one fatefully absent innkeeper. "I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."
"Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research." Farengar says, clearly delighted.
"Time is running, Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back." Delphine warns. She's wearing her leather travel armor with her hood up, trying to remain anonymous. To be fair she's avoided most everyone else and I just know things I shouldn't. In her more form fitting armor I can see she has a similar build to Irileth but reversed. Her bottom is the stand out instead of her chest.
"Yes, yes. Don't worry." the court wizard replies dismissively. " Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers may be interested as well...".
"You have a visitor." Delphine says, having noticed me immediately.
"Hmm? Ah, yes, the Jarl's protege! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems." the wizard remarks.
"Yup" I say, setting the Dragonstone on the table.
"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way." he says examining the stone. "My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me."
"You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work." Delphine says. "Remember to send me a copy when you've deciphered it, Farengar."
Delphine makes to leave, wary of the extra attention, her leathers noticeably lack the creaking noises I've come to expect from the pronounced posteriors of the realm. Despite actually being bigger than Irileth in that regard she makes almost no sound as she leaves. Perhaps the sneak skill muffles sound somehow or you just naturally move in a quieter way when your skill is that high. A commotion seems to replace her almost as soon as she leaves.
"Farengar!" Irileth shouts. "Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon's been sighted nearby. You should come, too." she says pointing at me.
"A dragon! How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing?" Farengar gushes.
"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you." the dark elf warns. "If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it."
They hurry out of the laboratory in haste. I follow behind, leisurely by comparison. Camilla looks at me silently for direction and I motion that she should come with me. We take a right to the stairs up to what I think is the war room. A large table stands off center in the room surrounded by bookshelves, chairs and chests. The other side of the room and the table is a very spacious walkway as its primary function is a junction to the upper balcony and Jarls quarter's. So less of a war room and more of a large war nook.
The Jarl himself is standing in the middle of the walkway, arms crossed facing us. In front of him are Irileth, Farengar and a particularly ragged guard standing between them. I squeeze myself and Camilla past them to stand amongst the relative clutter of the war nook.
"So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?" Balgruuf asks the haggard guard.
"Tell him what you told me. About the dragon." Irileth encourages.
"Uh... that's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I've ever seen." he manages, the presence of his Jarl weighing on his speech.
"What did it do?" Balgruuf asks breathlessly. "Is it attacking the watchtower?"
"No, my lord." says the guard, gaining steam. "It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure."
"Good work, son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it." the Jarl says with an approving smile. His face goes serious again instantly. "Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."
"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate." she replies, completely in her element.
"Good. Don't fail me." Balgruuf says, turning to me. "There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this Dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons then anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city. And please accept this gift from my personal armory."
It's not a request. It's not even a command. It's a plea. No invisible transaction occurs this time, instead he materializes a shield to give me by hand. It's a large angular kite shield of Imperial make. Thickly outlined with steel on the outside with a layer of wood on the inside and a smaller kite shaped metal plate at its center. The corners are each dragon motifs with the top having the most detailed dragon facing opponents. The bottom corner is embellished with a webbed three toed claw, useful perhaps for digging in the ground. The whole thing is a bit convex and a solid metal ridge runs from top to bottom. Most importantly I can tell when I take it that this shield increases my magic resistance, a very useful trait against fire breathing dragons.
"I should come along." Farengar asserts. "I would very much like to see this dragon."
"No." Balgruuf practically moans. "I can't afford to risk both of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city against these dragons."
"As you command." the wizard replies, surprisingly calm at this rejection.
"One last thing, Irileth. This isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we're dealing with." Balgruuf warns.
"Don't worry, my lord. I'm the very soul of caution."
"Now what do you say?!" Irileth shouts. "Shall we go kill us a dragon?!!".
A crowd of guards cheer back. A group of twenty or so men clap and stomp their support for the crazy housecarl. That's the difference between an armchair general and a field captain though. The terrain between here and the tower has almost no cover, meaning we'll all probably die if the dragon attacks us on the road or if we try to retreat from the watchtower. It'll be almost dark by the time we get there but that might make it worse if dragons have night vision like other predators. If we get to the watchtower we'll probably be stuck there one way or another. I frantically read through a spell tome trying to learn a ward spell while all this is happening. As we leave I can hear the guards murmur to one another.
"That dragon should have stuck to killing Imperials. It's about to find out how true Nords fight!."
"You really think we can kill a dragon?.."
"With Irileth you're either in for glory or nothing at all…"
"My cousin is posted at the watchtower. I hope he's all right…"
"I don't think any of us are coming back from this mission…"
"We're so dead…"
Soo…on that note; wards are the spell for blocking magic and hopefully dragon fire. I never really used them in game but I used to also not feel pain either when I played. Or fear death. If I remember correctly wards were expensive mana draining shields in the standard game but this tome says magicka will only be drained if the ward takes damage. It can also outright shatter if overwhelmed or if the ward doesn't have enough time to manifest, which is usually about a second or two. Out of the two spells I've tried to hastily master, this one is harder to understand but after I've crossed the outer gate the book finally starts to burn away. When I look up I see that the company has left me behind, save for a lone guard in one of the rarer open helmets.
"Come on then, no lollygaggin'." he jokes, waiting for me to catch up. When I do we continue at pace behind the heels of the now forward company.
"The other guards and I are glad you're here. They say Talos favors you." he says. "Surviving Helgen and aiding the Jarl is no small feat my friend. I know its asking a lot but favor or no I hope you can help us bring down that dragon."
"Right".
What do you say to something like that? Npcs aren't supposed to have things like hope or families. How do I tell someone like this that I'll be lucky to last five minutes? Thunder rumbles in the distance, unnecessarily ominous and well timed. Irileth and the rest of the company are posted behind the only thing that could be considered a rock for miles waiting for us.
"No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here." she says as we join the group. "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."
It does indeed look bad. Part of that is because the tower used to be part of a now long ruined fort but also it's on fire now. The walls that remain form a crescent moon shape with the opening facing us as we approach. The walls that remain are mostly rubble but the few good sections that have height have some kind of stairs to them. The main tower, to my dismay, has a massive hole in it that I'm not convinced the dragon caused. So that's not an option for cover. A disheveled guardsman with no helm at all crawls just beyond the doorway to shout at us.
"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"
"Guardsman! What happened here? Where's this dragon? Quickly now!" Irileth demands, sword out.
"I don't know!" the guardsman desperately replies. There's a stain on his trousers and what I only want to think of as the scent of fear coming from him. "Kynareth save us, here he comes again!"
Sure enough from the distant mountain range the dragon appears, gliding down in a straight line towards us. It's not blot out the sun big, only one dragon can do that, but it is still massive. Even from this distance I can tell that only Dragonsreach could comfortably house such a beast.
"Here he comes! Find cover and make every arrow count!" Irileth says, her voice cracking.
The men scramble. I look desperately and determine that the tower will provide the best cover- it has almost no burning debris. Some of the men have taken to standing on the exposed wall before I could notice.
"GETOFFTHEGODDAMNWALLS!!!" I scream, the trauma of Helgen fresh in my mind.
Only one hunkers down halfway up the steps of the ruined north wall. The rest either ignore me or stare at me like a crazy woman. The dragon circles overhead and the men start taking potshots at it.
"I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!".
In a quick turnabout maneuver the dragon lands heavily just behind the south wall so hard the ground shakes from even where I stand, just between the gap of the tower and the north wall. Before I can regain my balance a gout of fire ravishes the five men that did not heed my warning. One man flings himself down the stone stairs as the fire moves for him. The man ahead of him falls off the wall and into a hot ash pit. They were the lucky ones, not immediately exposed to the dragon fire.
Before I can even line up a shot the dragon takes flight. The other guards quickly abandon the north wall and instead hug it for cover. The two surviving guards from the south wall scramble for cover despite being badly wounded. The burnt guard is helping the other guard hobble along with a broken leg. The dragon spots them and lands on the newly abandoned north wall and immediately bathes them both in fire.
Lightning flies from Irileths hand and with it the fury of every other guardsman here. Arrows fly from nearly every other direction and some of the men swing longer two handed weapons at the beast, the decrepit walls not being as high as they perhaps appeared to the beast. The dragon flies off once more, perhaps actually taking damage from our assault.
"You are brave. Bahlaan hokoron. Your defeat brings me honor."
The battle slows down and enters a stalemate. Neither side allows itself to be unwittingly exposed again. We fling arrows and lightning at it and the dragon in return hits us with drive by fire. I do get limited use out of the ward spell but I can't aim my bow for shit against a moving target. Still we must be doing something to it, it's not acting invincible like Alduin did at Helgen. The sun sets completely and the sky rumbles again dangerously. We don't have time to care.
The dragon changes tactics and lands low a fair distance from the outside of the north wall, too far for its breath to reach. I start to think something is wrong and the men seem to agree with me.
"Slay it. Slay the dragon!"
"Fall to me dragon!"
"We'll bring that bastard down!"
We out range the dragon at this distance and the men leave cover to get a better shot at the dragon. Most of the arrows bounce off his scales but it's a matter of time before we hit an eye or ruin his wings. The dragon opens his mouth to let loose a shout but at this distance the men don't even flinch.
A wave of fire, not unlike a wave of force, launches from the monster's maw. It's curiously slow by comparison, a horse could probably out run it, and the flames in the wave are translucent. Weak looking even, it was the sort of fire you'd get from burning alcohol. The fire traveled a great distance but the men needed no cover to avoid getting hit, opting instead to merely side step it and allow it to crash dead center on the northern wall behind us.
The wall exploded as if a bomb had gone off, flinging the men who had moved away earlier into the air and spraying the rest with rocky debris. I don't experience any major damage but the debris hit my armor like hail hitting a tin roof. The wall still looks functional but it's clear the dragon can't land there again, even if it wanted to. Judging by the bodies we stand now at half our original number.
The dragon kicks off a new campaign against us, picking off any stragglers and using that explosive shout to dislodge us from cover. Any time we try to move out in the open it does a strafing run with its normal fire breath to pin us down. None of our company die directly to these attacks, but they are successful at exhausting us. Even I can't avoid the dragon with the amount of fire he's putting out and I'm stuck mostly cowering against the wall with my ward spell out.
The dragon changes tactics to pick us off one by one now that it sees we're too tired to counter attack properly. He lands behind the far end of the north wall to chomp and throttle the guardsman who had waited for me earlier. On an upper swing of his head the dragon releases the lifeless body of my friend like a chew toy, who flies some great distance until he lands on the road, too far thankfully for me to hear the crunchy body thud. The dragon tries to go for Irileth next, the only one of us still doing any kind of consistent damage with her lightning bolts. She's too deeply entrenched but the dragon instead picks up the guardsmen next to her who had a little less cover and takes him up to the sky. They fly to such a height that Whiterun probably had just as good a view as we did. The poor man is dropped from the clouds and lands a full minute later. Only six of us remain.
I can do math. I'm the only one here who has a shot at surviving the dragon for longer than a second. At least the other men can fire their bows correctly. Seeing no other alternative I set myself in the center of these ruins, a big silver target that hopefully the enemy can't resist. The winged terror circles the tower once again before noticing me, perhaps not looking for someone out in the open or perhaps being dramatic about this whole thing.
"Krif krin. Pruzah!"
The dragon, accepting my challenge, hovers directly in front of me before unleashing his fire breath. I hold my Ward up hoping I can at least last long enough to give the others a few good shots. The fire ends sooner than I expected but while I am hot I'm unburnt. The dragon hesitates to consider me for a moment but flies off before it can take too much damage from being exposed.
"Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde!"
The dragon flies around trying everything in its arsenal to get to me. Strafing runs have no effect on my Ward. I can dodge its fireball and its grab attack pretty well out in the open. The winged terror is running out of ways it can safely attack me. Or so I thought.
The ground is becoming dangerously hot. Before I realized it, the earth and dirt around me isn't just being scorched, its oven hot. Sweat pours down my armor and I have to be super careful where I put my feet now. The dragon comes again with another strafing run while lightning dances in the clouds. It takes a lower open path to get as much flame onto me as possible.
Predicting its path, Irileth fires a lightning bolt at the dragon, hitting it right in the head. The dragon falters and crashes into the tower, right through the hole I was worried about earlier. The upper level crumbles and scatters with the trajectory of the dragon shaped missile, the stricken beast landing out of all our sights.
We stand waiting for a moment. Only Irileth is brave enough, or whole enough, to check behind the tower. The rest of the men limp out of their various hiding places while I contend with the heat. Rain is setting in, turning the heat into steam, forcing me to run from it. Blisters form and deform as I heal through being cooked like a vegetable. When I make it out of the heat cloud I become cognizant of battle sounds while I continue Healing.
A dark humanoid shape flies past the gap between the tower and the south wall so I limp to go see if there's anything I can do. Huffing and puffing I can see that it's Irileth, unresponsive and missing an arm. I can also see the dragon, walking towards the northern end of the tower. I pull out one of my last two healing potions to at least see if I can stabilize her. To my surprise she springs up almost immediately and begins healing herself.
"I got careless." she admits. "I thought I could get in close to avoid its fire and finish it off. I had my arm ripped off instead."
To my amazement her arm starts to regrow while she talks. I did not know Healing could do that. We hear fire in the distance. She grunts as the arm starts to expand out and gain more defining features, clearly being an uncomfortable process. When she's done she flexes her naked arm a few times and stands back up. I guess that's why there are no amputees in Skyrim.
"That's better but I'll be tapped for a few minutes. Magic seems to be the only sure fire way to hurt that thing." she says. "My sword bounced off those scales like a lump of iron."
"Would this help?"
Summoning from my hand a weapon from oblivion comes forth. It's the kind of edgelord design you'd see in fantasy art; jet black with unnecessary teeth, dangerous points everywhere and an ominous red glow. To top it all off its translucent, not fully being here on this plane of existence, only borrowed. I hold out a Bound Sword for Irileth, straight from Oblivion. It's the spell I learned before Ward. I wasn't too sure if normal steel could hurt a dragon and it looks like I was partially right. Irilelth looks me in the eyes before taking the sword.
"What's the plan?" she asks, inspecting the blade.
"I am the shield, you are the sword." I say, draping my new shield over one arm.
We run together around the tower to find the dragon blasting fire into the entrance of the now one story tower. The rock work around the entrance is glowing red hot. Even if the men are safe from the fire they might just bake alive like I nearly did moments earlier. The dragon has a perfect view of our approach and immediately turns on us before we can even get close, hopefully sparing those inside the ruined tower.
"Get behind me!" I shout.
Irileth immediately understands and using me as a shield follows me into the river of flames. When they end I'm right in front of the dragon's maw doing my best to be distracting with my shield. The horned beast predictably lunges its open jaw at me and finds purchase on my shield sooner than I would have liked. When it flicks its head to wrestle my shield away it slips off with ease as I could never properly grip the shield in the first place. I need one hand free to maintain Bound Sword. Free from obstruction I briefly see a multitude of arrows in the chinks of the dragons armor. It's small comfort, the timeless beast is still three times my height when it goes to devour me.
I'm paralyzed by indecision as the beast's open maw comes for me, intent on either swallowing me whole or mangling me before sending me to the moon. Do I put a ward up or do I grab my Imperial sword to thrust in its mouth? It's too late to do either.
The wyvern rears back its head suddenly, giving me a clear look at Irileth on the beast's back. She's slashing furiously at anything she can, working her way up towards the dragon's head. It's not nimble enough on the ground to shake her off. The beast's only option to escape her is to fly but my instinct takes over to be a step ahead. Pulling out my sword I slash down the length of his left wing tearing at the membrane. It was instinct, fueled by battle, my whole body crying out for some kind of proactive move against the creature that had us on the defensive and under siege for so long. The wings must be sensitive as the dragon roars out in pain, slamming down his wing and sending me rolling away. Irileth lands a killing blow on the distracted monster, piercing his eye with my other worldly blade as I desperately try to look on from the dirt. The dragon lets out one more frantic cry.
"Dovahkiin?! No!!"
The great wyrm slumps down and almost immediately begins to burn up into flaky cinders.
Irileth scrambles away from the dragon turned light show phenomenon as its body burns and rumbles the earth. Beautiful strands of energy, the color of brilliant ambers, fly through the air on unseen currents straight into my body and being. They make a noise like rapid winds but quieter, muffled somehow. The process ends as quickly as it begins with only the dragon's bone white skeleton remaining. The remaining men hobble as quickly from the tower as possible, sweating and broken but mostly unharmed. Everyone takes a moment to catch their breath before speaking up.
"I can't believe it. You're Dragonborn." one of the guards says, holding a limping comrade.
"Dragonborn? What are you talking about?" another more soot covered guard asks.
"That's right! My grandfather used to tell stories about the Dragonborn." the limping guard says excitedly. "Those born with the dragon blood in 'em. Like old Tiber Septim himself!"
"I never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons."
"There weren't any dragons then, idiot." the first guard replies. "They're just coming back now for the first time in... forever. But the old tales tell of the Dragonborn who could kill dragons and steal their power. You must be one!"
He's not wrong. I did do the thing and am the thing. Only problem is I don't feel a thing. I thought absorbing the soul of an eternal dragon who lived on the currents of time would feel different. Like anything. Instead, aside from the lack of abject terror due to the dragons absence, I feel the same as ever.
"What do you say, Irileth? You're being awfully quiet." says a fourth guard, a grey beard poking from under his helm.
The dark elf stares at the bones as if they were a burning campfire, lost in thought. She seems to be chewing her own thoughts, her newly regrown arm flexing as if she wasn't comfortable with it. The muscles are impressive, especially exposed like this. I imagine she would dominate a Miss Olympia competition easily as her muscles dance in her arm.
"Come on, Irileth, tell us, do you believe in this Dragonborn business?"
"Hmph." she starts, coming out of her trance. "Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you don't know anything about. Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me."
"You wouldn't understand, Housecarl. You ain't a Nord."
"I've been all across Tamriel! I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends." Irileth rebukes.
"If you really are Dragonborn," the first guard says, turning to me, "like the old tales, you aught to be able to Shout. Can you? Have you tried?"
"Umm…sure…fus?"
A small wave of force emanates from my lips and knocks the two guards clean on their asses.
"I am so sorry!" I say rushing over panicked. "I didn't think it would do that."
"That was shouting, what you just did!" says the first guard.
"You really are Dragonborn…"
The men forget their injuries to stare at me with reverence, not talking. I stare back but only for a moment. This is now super awkward and I wanna leave. I start thinking of an excuse to leave when Irileth comes and hands me one.
"That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few. I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm sure glad you're with us. You better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here." she implores.
"Right." I reply, needing no encouragement to dip.
Sensing my desire to not attract attention to myself the sky itself cracks with a quartet of thunderous voices, announcing my existence to the whole world.
"DOVAHKIIN!!!"
"So what happened at the watchtower? Was the dragon there?" Balgruuf asks.
I'm back in Dragonsreach in front of the Jarls' throne. His usual entourage is here, minus Irileth, as well as his younger brother. Hrongar looks like Balgruuf if Balgruuf was a meathead with free time. Shaved head, war paint and a greatsword adorn his significantly more muscular body, along with a traditional hide armor with a goat skull pauldron.
"The watchtower is mostly rubble, we lost a lot of men and the dragon is dead." I answer.
"I knew I could count on Irileth. But there must be more to it than that." Balgruuf prods.
I really, really, realllly want to lie and say that was everything. I would adore keeping a low profile for my own reclusive sake. Alas I have at least five other witnesses who will tell him otherwise so it's better to come clean and at least earn the full brunt of the material rewards.
"I uh, absorb something from the dragon when it died. The men said I was Dragonborn." I answer.
"Not just the men. The Greybeards seem to think the same thing." Balgruuf says.
"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" Hrongar says excitedly. "That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in ... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!"
"Hrongar, calm yourself." Proventus interjects. "What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this so-called "Dragonborn."
"Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed-up ignorant... these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"
"Hrongar. Don't be so hard on Avenicci." Balgruuf says, clearly amused that someone else is annoyed with his Imperial steward.
"I could shout if you'd like." I offer mindlessly.
"Really?" Balgruuf says. "As much as I'd like to see that, I'd rather not have my palace destroyed. You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards, it's a tremendous honor."
The mighty Jarl reclines in his chair, the weight of recent events both having taken their toll and been lifted in a single day. A great sigh leaves him as his eyes unfocus ever so slightly. He looks positively relaxed now. If anyone in the court noticed the change they certainly don't show it.
"I envy you, you know. To climb the 7,000 Steps again... I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that? High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before." Balgruuf ruminates. "No matter. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you."
The Jarl inhales as he straightens up, eyes refocused, remantling his office. This time the court does notice and everyone straightens up in ways befitting their respective roles. I realize now that that monologue counted more as a personal conversation than an official one.
"You've done a great deed for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn." he says, dismissing me.
"Back to business, Proventus. We still have a city to defend."
"Yes, my lord.
And with that everyone ignores me, for the first time since I've gotten here. It's spooky and a little sad but it's also the freedom I've wanted. Well it's the closest thing to freedom you can have when you're in a prolonged deathmatch with the physical manifestation of an apocalypse. The ax he gave me is nice too; fire enchanted with a beautiful flowing runic style. I walk slowly and mindlessly towards the exit, admiring my ax, before being stopped.
"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honor to serve you."
Shit.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein