Stallion of Whiterun (Skyrim Balgruuf SI) Chapter 23 (Patreon)

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A dinner and a show. That was the best way Irileth could describe how events were playing. She was sure that somewhere in the future, a enterprising Bard would go ahead and record the event.

For his troubles, Hoag forbid Ulfric to return to the city. If he were to leave the gates in the following morning, he was forbidden to return until the Jarl himself would lift the banishment. Ulfric took the banishment in stride, adopting a face of quiet Nordic stoniness. But the sharper ones at the hall saw the pain in his eyes. 

The dinner was ended quietly, Freyja apologizing for the display and inviting the Jarls and Jarlings for dessert. That offer was quickly accepted. And there on a little table sat treats; boiled creme tarts, sweetrolls, candied fruits. Tasty sweets to keep the mind sated. The one Jarl and party of Jarlings sat quietly, eyeing Freyja and Ulfric converse among themselves before finally, Ulfric pulled away and turned towards Jarl Hrolfdir. 

"Jarl Hrolfdir," Ulfric began, his voice even. "What is your plan in reclaiming your city?" 

The Jarl cleared his throat. "Well, we initially thought about sending in men to sneak in via a secret passage to wrestle control of the gate. But with you here now, Lord Ulfric, we can set that aside." 

"You wish for me to Shout down the gates," Ulfric surmised. 

The Jarl nodded. 

"Then I shall," Ulfric agreed. "However, I will only use the Voice against the gates, not against the Reachmen. The Way of the Voice instructs that the Thu'um can only be used in true need. Helping you retake your home for Skyrim, that is a need. Shouting down Reachmen is not one of them."

"That is all we need, Lord Ulfric," Igmund nodded. "Reachmen are capable skirmirshers and casters but not infantry. At most, we can expect them to use mercenaries to offset their lack of good troops." 

"Would it be possible for the Reachmen to field Dwarven constructs?" Balgruuf asked. "Markarth is still a dwarven city after all. I imagine they would utilize Dwarven constructs for their own ends." 

"It would be possible for them, yes. The Underkeep, my palace, has plenty of inactive Dwarven constructs. I am murderously sure that they are inoperable but..." Jarl Hrolfdir faltered. "We will have to factor that in." 

"Dwarven Spheres and Spiders can be fought if the fighters don't panic," Igmund added. "It is the Centurions that are concerning. They are massive golems who can spit steam hot enough to cook a man in his armor and a maul it uses to crush those underfoot." His voice indicated he had seen it happen first hand. 

"You will have to teach the men how to bring one down then," Balgruuf nodded. "Now, assembly. Gathering men for the purpose of war is overt. The Reachmen will know we are coming. Are you all still sure they won't try and intercept us?" 

"If the Reachmen have any sense," Freyja spoke up. "They would. They know the Empire is sending a member of the Imperial family to negotiate. What better way to show their capabilities than defeating a Nordic army in the field?" 

Hrolfdir's knuckles grasped the edges of his seat. "I would like to see them try!" he seethed. "They only took my Hold at its  weakest, when its sons and daughters were fighting for the Empire! Let us see how well they fare when we shall descend upon them with fire and fury!" 

"I advise caution still. There is a long way to go before we arrive in Markarth. The Reach has plenty of hills and crags to be ambushed." Igmund advised. 

"Where are your armies?" Balgruuf asked. 

"At Dragon Bridge," Jarl Hrolfdir revealed. "It lies North of the Reach." 

"And I shall be assembling men at Whiterun, going to Markarth from the East," mused Balgruuf. "If we march in at the same time, the Reachmen will be forced to deal with either one of us." 

"Would it not be better to march in as one massive army? There is a risk that the Reachmen could defeat us all in detail," Ulfric mentioned, his mind awash with scenarios. 

"Their army is small, Lord Ulfric," Igmund said. "We estimate their fighting men at three-thousand." 

"Numbers do not automatically mean the army is better. Lord Ulfric has the right thought," Balgruuf nodded. Ulfric stood a little straighter at his praise. "I propose we set a date where the armies march and we meet-up halfway. We march towards Markarth together." 

"That is doable," Jarl Igmund nodded. "There is a town, Karthwasten. We can link-up there then march on to the city." 

A chorus of nods echoed around. "Then we are in agreement. Further refinement can be done later," Jarl Hrolfdir asked. "Is there anymore concerns?"

"Then I believe this plotting is over." He stood up first. The Jarlings followed. "To Victory or Sovngarde," he announced holistically. His cry was echoed by the younger men. And with that, he and his son excused themselves, to sleep in after a long day. This only left Balgruuf, Freyja, and Ulfric, as well as their Housecarls. 

"I need to sleep as well. Today has been tiring," muttered Ulfric. 

"Good night, brother," Freyja offered. Ulfric nodded as he walked away. Balgruuf watched him march off, Galmar in tow. He turned towards Freyja and noted the worried look on her face. 

"We will take care of him, Lady Freyja. I promise you that." Balgruuf offered. And he was going to. Despite the events of today, this was becoming a blessing for him. Having Ulfric at close proximity meant he could influence him in a proper direction. His act earlier was foolish and stubborn but that foolishness could be utilized. With Ulfric in his camp, that would mean an easy access to the Eastern Holds. Between Whiterun and Eastmarch, it was the former that held the most sway. That support would be vital in the future when the Moot would be called after old High King Istlod would die. Jarl Hoag would be annoyed at them but frankly, he would die soon and thus, his ire would be short-lived. 

Freyja offered him a smile. "I trust you on that, Lord Balgruuf. You are known among us. A fake, an imposter, could hardly be counted on." The Lady Stormcloak blinked as she noticed a slight curving on Balgruuf's lips. This in turn, made her smile. 

"Is something amusing, Lord Balgruuf?" asked Freyja, wondering what she had done to earn a smile. The man shook his head. 

"Oh no, it's fine. It was something you said," he took in a breath. "Anyway, I shall make sure that your brother will be taken care of, my lady." He paused, looking at her. "Your brother has been banished. After this, where will he go?" 

Freyja's face fell. They had both expected that their father would not take his defiance kindly. Despite Hoag's love for his son, he was still Jarl and opposing his decision so publicly could not just be ignored. "...He has mentioned to me about the possibility of adventuring around Skyrim, or possibly even returning to High Hrothgar to meditate." Freyja mentioned. Ulfric had whispered to her about such things. 

Balgruuf hummed. Having Ulfric walking around Skyrim would not be optimal. Having him come to High Hrothgar wouldn't be optimal either. "I would be glad to offer him a place at my side, until such time that your father rescinds his banishment or until...well...Lord Ulfric ascends to his seat." 

"Of course," nodded Freyja. "Thank you, my lord. Ulfric and I...we have not exactly been close. He grew up in a monastery, I was raised to take his place. But he is still family, and we serve Eastmarch. He is my only family left here, asides from our father. Take care of him." she asked sincerely. 

"I will make sure he won't get battered too much." Balgruuf promised. At that, Freyja smiled. 

"Thank you. If you will excuse me, I am tired." she said. Balgruuf nodded. And with that, Freyja stood up and turned on her heels for the door, her house-carl saluting them before leaving. 

As Balgruuf watched the Lady Stormcloak leave, he felt a sharp pain at his side. He blinked to see Irileth looking down at him disapprovingly. 

"What?" he complained. 

"You were staring," Irileth said simply. 

"Don't tell me you are jealous?" Balgruuf asked. 

"No," Irileth deadpanned. 

Balgruuf stared, eyebrow raised. 

"Yes." she deadpanned. 

The Jarling of Whiterun stood up and faced his housecarl. The Dunmer glanced up, their eyes meeting. "I told you already. I have already chosen," he said, voice certain. 

"Prove that to me later in bed," Irileth said simply. 

"Deal. How does a baby sound?" Balgruuf asked. 

"Tempting. But you need me to be your bodyguard. I cannot do that pregnant," she said simply. "Speaking of which, our other goal here." She said, indicating the cloth-wrapped sword on her back. 

"Go," Balgruuf nodded. "I will be in my room." 

"Don't wear anything when I come back," Irileth said, turning towards the window. As she walked, she made sure to sashay her hips, earning Balgruuf's leering gaze. She smirked in satisfaction before opening the window. Outside, there was roof she could use to exit into the city proper. 

She shared one glance towards Balgruuf before leaping out. 

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A/N: We are nearing our end to the chillness of Windhelm. Action time, soon.