Balgruuf the Great chapter 27 preview (Patreon)

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Irileth

It hurt. It had hurt a lot. Being in that office and listening to him end what they had was like a knife being jabbed into her stomach. But then again, she knew what she and Balgruuf was getting into. His real lover was Whiterun and its needs outweighed theirs. She wasn't going to go stomp around and bemoan what they had lost, that was not how Irileth responded to loss. No, she was going to stand up and fight.

Being a mer, Irileth knew that even if her wildest dreams came true, it would still end for Balgruuf was a Nord and she was a Mer. The race of Mer lived long lives, the race of Men do not. So it wasn't a question of how her heart would be broken, it was when. Either now or later.

She rose early in the morning as was her routine. Ever since they had returned to Whiterun from Cyrodiil, she had been assigned a room to sleep in as Balgruuf's Housecarl but she had never used it, having slept inside her lord's room since arriving. Now though, she arose in a sparsely decorated room. A bed, a table, a cabinet to put her clothes in, a box for her possessions, and an armor rack. That was all she needed, she never really found a desire to own more things that was unnecessary. It made for difficult packing whenever she would move. To a nightblade, getting attachments would only distract her from her line of work.

As she sleepily made her way to her armor rack, her mind wandered.

Attachments. Funny how she had allowed herself to get swept up by emotion, letting her get so vulnerable to the point of falling for someone. Ever since she was accepted into the Morag Tong, she had dedicated her life to it and found no need to really form longer lasting attachments. She had people she could consider as friends but not really as romantic partners. Balgruuf on the other hand...

She remembered the first time they met, in that dark and dreary dungeon of Sennatar. Him, bursting through the dungeon like a roaring spirit of vengeance. Even if she was beaten and half-staved, she would never forget the man that had saved her life. Then, there was him visiting her in the Infirmary. He didn't have to to that, she had been planning to leave as soon as she could but he went out of his way to see how she was doing despite his busy schedule.

She had to admit, it made her feel...special. Her parents had long since died and any family she had either perished from the Argonian invasion of Morrowind or was so distant they might as well be strangers. She was alone, she was perfectly alright to be alone.

Then that Nordic lummox had to barge in and check on her, asking her questions about her health and smiling at her like a blonde and blue eyed fool.

Irileth blinked when she felt something wet on her cheek. She briefly wondered if the roof leaked only to stop and realize what it was.

Tears.

Irileth collapsed back on her bed, her breaths low and heavy as she grit her teeth, refusing to let her sobs echo in her room. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why did it have to hurt still? Why did it all have to hurt?|

Why?

Going into a fetal position and with fists clenched, she forced herself to stop crying. After a few moments of tears, the dam had been repaired and Irileth was left, numb.

"He has abandoned you," a voice in her head whispered. "He never loved you, he only wanted to use your body,"

Her eyes widened. Was...was that the truth? Did Balgruuf really only use her for a quick lay? Did he really just want to lie with her for a taste of her flesh?

No, it did not make sense. Before they had their short spell together, he had warned her of the temporariness of their situation. He made no wanton promises he could not keep and even while they were together, she had never been happier and safe with him.

"He only told you what you wanted to hear," the voice returned with intensity. "You saw him act, you know how he speaks. He is a man who knows how to charm. He lied to you,"

Irileth mused on that logic. That had a truth to it, she supposed. He was charming, he was great at convincing people. But Balgruuf as a womanizer? He had never, ever lain with a woman till her, as far as she knew. Ever since she was accepted into his service, the man had spent his entire life in the Legion focused in the war. He hadn't went to brothels, he hadn't enjoyed the company of loose women.

He was clean. Very clean. She had tasted that herself.

Sighing, Irileth went back up to finish preparing herself. She had sworn her loyalty to him, sworn herself to be his Housecarl and she was going to uphold it until Balgruuf no longer needed her service.

"Can you really maintain your loyalty when he marries? Can you hold your service to him when he couples with his wife? Can you endure hearing their love-making while you do nothing? Can you stomach watching his brats run and play, when it should have been yours?" the voice returned, questioning in tone.

The hurt that she had expelled from her body threatened to return. She shook in where she stood, her mind giving her images of Balgruuf's new woman, moaning his name as he ravaged her while she stood outside his bedroom, listening.

That image, Irileth liked not one bit.

But as much as it hurt her, she knew that Balgruuf was hurting too.

He had sacrificed their relationship for Whiterun. The happiness of the many was a thing he valued and cherished. The hope to see food on the table and a home over their heads was his life's dream. It was also proper that she sacrifice some things herself as well. She was his Housecarl, his interests were her interests. If seeing him married to another and siring children with them was necessary for the prosperity of Whiterun then so be it.

Balgruuf hadn't bought her loyalty. He hadn't cajoled it. He had earned it. And she, Irileth, was going to keep it.

For a minute, there was silence. Then, three more words from the voice, mocking her.

"We shall see,"

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For the rest of the day, Irileth had spent it in her usual line of work, watching Balgruuf from the shadows and never really letting herself be seen by others. It was almost comical how people never really paid attention to the Dunmer clad head to toe in black Moonstone armor. It was even more comical how much people never really looked up. Dragonsreach had a rich variety of ledges she could perch up on like a red-haired and grey-skinned bird. It made watching over her lord much more easier. Well, when he would become the Jarl, she would have to stay in more visible places to show that she was his Housecarl.

Speaking of Housecarls, she had read that a noble wasn't really limited to how much Housecarl's they could have, only in if they could support them. In Nordic societal rules, Housecarls were warriors directly serving a noble, living in their house, guarding them, and being apart of their household. The service of a housecarl wasn't just martial duties but also administrative. It was expected that she and other potential housecarls would help manage any property that their lord might have as being a housecarl was a position of extreme trust. They weren't unlike knights that could inherit land, they served at the leisure of their lord.

Speaking of other Housecarls, Balgruuf hadn't really been trying to get other Housecarls to serve under him. While she was responsible for his security, it would be best if he would get other Housecarls as well. Not only for the extra security but also for the prestige points as well. And so, she approached him when they were free and breached the question of housecarls to him.

"I am talented, my lord," She told him. "But I cannot be everywhere. You are going to be a great lord and a great lord needs a proper entourage."

Balgruuf paused writing with that pen of his and adopted that stance of resting his head on his hands. It made him look rather contemplative or in worse language, scheming.

"I've...never really thought about that," confessed Balgruuf. "I've been thinking so much about what Whiterun needs that I'm forgetting shit. I suppose I should send out a call for warriors to serve me. Oh and Irileth, you can still call me Balgruuf. You're my friend and my bodyguard, not a wet-behind-the-ears private." Balgruuf ended with a tone of admonishment.

"As you wish, Balgruuf." Irileth tested, old emotions threatening to break out but she forced it down. New realities have to be accepted after all. "How do you wish to go about recruitment?"

"I could ask my father to set up a small tournament between warriors for the chance of becoming my housecarls. I could support at least ten more housecarls." He said after a few minutes of thinking, his expression contemplative. "It would be good for when my bride arrives, a proper household would be set to greet her."

"Of course," nodded Irileth, once more pushing back her own feelings down and thought of a proper household already set by the time her lord's wife would arrive. He had decided on that Tullius woman. She supposed that tart looked pretty enough and she did have a martial look about her. The advantages for him were a direct link to the higher command of the Imperial Legion and connections to a major landowner in Cyrodiil. A great link to have for a powerful lord. While most provinces had a hand in their own affairs, having the support of Cyrodiil as well as connections in Cyrodiil allowed leaders to have lots of leeway.

"Oh and Iri, you're going to be in charge in sorting out the other housecarls. You up for that?"

At that, she straightened up. "I am, Balgruuf. Besides, I must make sure that your new Housecarls are up to par and their loyalties...certain."

And with that, they both left his office and made their way towards the Great Hall. Arriving there, they were greeted to the sight of a packed Hall. At the moment, the Jarl was holding court and many took advantage of that. The tables where food was usually served were packed with members of the nobility and other prominent men and women while at the sides lined their retinues. At the far end where stairs lead into the great hall stood the less prominent men who mingled with commoners and peasants.

Thanks to their status, they could skip all that hubbub but Balgruuf chose to wait and fall in line. To show that he was one with his kinsmen, he reasoned.

And so they waited, listening to the Jarl administer over disputes and petitions. This was called the Thing or Folkmoot, Irileth remembered from her readings. Every province had their own laws and customs to follow, the Empire had been prudent enough to let it be at that. In due time however, the Empire's own laws and decrees were gradually added to the provinces. Many chose to assimilate Imperial law as the ruling class of the provinces for the convenience of it as well as the ruling class themselves becoming Imperialized. Others chose to outright ignore them as in the case of Morrowind where slavery was practiced despite the Empire banning it.

"Let the court hear the petitions of Olof, owner of Faro Farm versus Ragrim and Thevek," announced the steward from his position, which was the Jarl's right. The Jarl himself sat prominently on his throne, looking regal and noble as a Jarl should. Irileth turned to see a elderly Nord stand from the tables and presented himself to the Jarl. He was wearing the signature clothing of most Nordic nobles; bright yellow tunics with jeweled belts, a fur cloak over them, and black fur lined boots. At the same time, a pair of men wearing commoner's clothing, a simple light green shirt with a low cut and similarly colored pants and brown boots were ushered in.

"Begin and let the Folkmoot hear your story," the Jarl commanded from his throne. The richer Nord wasted no time.

"Last harvest, I had hired these two men to work as farmhands in my property. I had treated them well, as if they were my own kin. I was fair to them. But, they chose to pay me with treachery," the man began. "I had been steadily losing chickens from my coops as the days went. I did not think of them as the culprits as first, I thought that a fox had done it. Then, I started to lose potatoes and cabbages from my stores. I started to be suspicious and thought now that a thief was helping themselves to my property. I waited one night for the thief to show up then lo and behold, I found the two of them attempting to steal one of my cows! Despite my kindness to them, they spat on me!" the man ended with rage.

From his table, men noisily banged their fists on their tables. Friends and family of the man, Irileth reasoned, seeing them resembling the angry Nord.

"I see," the Jarl answered, maintaining his composure. He then turned to the other men, his gaze neutral. "And what do the two of you have to say?"

One of the men, brown-haired and tied neatly in a braid, spoke first. "My Jarl, that man over there makes lies as easily as he breathes," he said accusingly, causing Olof to become redder in rage. "My friend and I are innocent, and we will prove it to you."

"You call yourselves Nords? I will have you all dead by the end of today, mildrinkers!" Olof howled, to the approval of his entourage. From the back, booes were levelled at the Nord, most likely supporters of the farmhands.

"Order! We will have order!" Aeschere yelled, causing the parties to mute themselves as the Steward brought forward his authority. As they quieted down, the man bid the farmhands to continue.

And they did, the other man whose hair was red and short, spoke. "Thevek and I were indeed employed by Olof. We needed employment and Olof needed workers, so we went to him. Little did we know that the man was a slave-driver and a cheat."

That would make him Ragrim and the other one Thevek, Irileth surmised as the Ragrim continued his story. "My friend and I worked hard for Olof. We were diligent and honest in our jobs, expecting due reward for our services. But when the time came for our pay, the man refused to pay us, finding some excuse to not pay. Our families have to be fed my Jarl, and we were willing to do whatever it took to make it happen. And so, we decided to take fair compensation for ourselves and took from the farm."

At that, Olof's entourage howled. Olof himself looked gleeful at the blatant confession of the man. "You see! He admits it himself! They stole from me!"

"But only because we had to! If only you would have paid us fairly, we would not have taken from you!" Thevek hotly replied. "It is not stealing if you refused to honor your end! It is only just!"

"You milkdrinking son of a-" Olof thundered but the Steward once again called for order, momentarily calming down the shouting but not stifling the rage between the parties. He then directed his attention to Olof.

"And what do you have to say against these charges, Olof?" the Steward asked. Irileth watched with interest as the man suddenly went still, and curiously, a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. "Ah...well, you see Steward, the harvests of my farm hadn't been doing well so I...er, have been strapped for money. But I am a man of my word and I would have paid these men their due but they started stealing from me!"

Then, a new voice joined in. "So you hired these men as farmhands despite knowing you couldn't pay them?" spoke the Jarl.

"I was going to pay them eventually! We had a contract of employment stating that they were going to be paid!" the man defended himself.

"And do you have this contract?" the Steward asked.

"We brought our contracts, Steward," Ragrim declared as they produced pieces of paper from...somewhere and held it up for the Hall to see. Aeschere bid a guard to retrieve it and present it to him. He took it with one hand and swiftly read through it. He levelled his gaze to Olof, his eyes set.

The man went stiller as the Steward then went over to the Jarl and offered it to him. The Jarl accepted it and after a minute of reading, narrowed his eyes at the sweating Nord.

"This contract makes no mention of eventual payment. The men were promised immediate pay, Olof." the Jarl revealed, his voice accusing. "Payment you withheld,"

"But I was going to pay them eventually!" the man cried out but his cries of defense were drowned out by the jeers and boo's of the Hall. Shaking his head, the Jarl gave back the paper to the Steward as he said aloud. "The farmhands have indeed taken from you chickens, potatoes, cabbages, and as you say, a cow but only because you have refused to pay them. The work you have promised them meant life and death for their families, their well-being you have cruelly ignored for free work. And so, I have made my decision."

The shouting ceased as the Jarl made his announcement. "The men must return what they have taken from Olof. in exchange, Olof must pay the men what he owes them, twice the amount, as restitution for the amount of time the men had to go without pay. Whiterun is a city of fairness and this Hold will not play host to cheats. Thus I have declared, and so it shall be."

Olof made a point to argue but he held his tongue, opting to lie his head in shame as the court jeered at him while the farmhands rejoiced at the verdict. The men were later ushered out as the Jarl listened to the next petitioners. Slowly, they watched and waited unti finally, Aeschere took notice of Balgruuf and bid for him to present himself before the Jarl. A hush fell over the Hall as the court eyed Balgruuf and her making their way to present themselves.

"What business do you bring before the court, my lord?" Aeschere questioned him.

"An announcement, Steward," said Balgruuf, earning murmurs and looks of expectation as the Nord turned towards his father. "Father, since I have returned to Whiterun, I have been so busy attending to the needs of our Hold that I have neglected attending the needs of my household. And so, I would ask your permission to hold a tournament in Whiterun whose winners I shall take as my Housecarls."

From behind her, she could hear the nobility and commoners chatting excitedly at the announcement. From his throne, the Jarl raised a bushy eyebrow. "A tournament? How will this be done?"

"A series of trials to test their skills. I wish for individuals who are not just talented in the usage of arms but also talented in their minds as well. I will wait three days and nights for warriors to come to me. Afterwards, I shall take no more and the trials will begin."

For a moment, the Jarl was silent as he considered his son's request. Then, he nodded. "Very well. I shall send out riders to spread word of your tournament." Turning to the court, he yelled out. "You've heard my son, you jackals. Do you think you've got what it takes to make it?"

The court roared as both nobles and commoners yelled out as men and women made their declarations and promises. Balgruuf however, turned to her, a toothy smile on his face.

Suddenly, Irileth felt conscious of the mischief twinkling in his eyes.

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A/N: And here's the next chapter of Balgruuf the Great. For my higher tier patrons, if you wish to submit a character to join Balgruuf's household, go and send me a character sheet if you wish for it. For my 5 dollar patrons, I'll put down a vote for ya'll to create a shared character!