Balgruuf the Great chapter 29 preview (Patreon)

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Balgruuf

A jaunty hum escaped my lips as I attended to the paperwork of the day. It was proving to be rather productive. Visitors were at an all time hall, the coffers were getting filled by the daily, banditry and other disturbances were low and generally, the Hold was moving along smoothly. As much as people love battles and duels, I wagered that a life of peace and prosperity was a far greater achievement for a ruler to have. Take for example, when Antoninus Pius succeeded Hadrian, he could have launched a whole new campaign against Parthia or anyone really but he decided to sit in Italy and rule the Empire through twenty-three years of peace.

Based.

Sides, we gotta stock up as much as we could until the big one, over the horizon. It would be a waste to expend much needed resources when there was a bigger fight ahead.

"Balgruuf," Irileth spoke up, "A question, if I may"

"Hm?" I acknowledged, my hands still set on the stacks of papers on my desk.

From her corner of my office, I could see her sitting down on her own chair, sharpening her knives. "Why is it that you sent a whole party to retrieve the Jagged Crown when you could have sent me? I understand it is quite important to you, correct?"

I stopped writing, putting my pen down as I regarded the Dunmer. "You understand why it's important?"

She shrugged, holding up her knife to inspect it. "The symbol of leadership of the old Nordic kings. It was lost when its final wearer perished and the location of his tomb lost, wasn't it?"

I leaned back on my chair, nodding. "Aye. King Borgas, last of the Ysgrammoric Dynasty."

Irileth leaned in, her knife set aside. "Then if it was so important, why not send me, your most trusted shadow, than the ones we sent? For all we know, they could be marching off to sell it to another Jarl"

I nodded again, acknowledging her point. "Yes, it's true that the Jagged Crown is important. But it is not actually necessary to me."

The Dunmer quirked an eyebrow. "Explain,"

I acquiesced. "The Jagged Crown is a symbol of leadership for the ancient Nordic Kings, that is correct. However, simply having it does not make one the king. The process that confers kingship in Skyrim is not it but the Moot. Whoever the Moot chooses, that is King."

"And why go through all the trouble of getting it?" Irileth questioned.

"Because it's still an important symbol to rally around. An extra boost to my prestige. I don't really need it, Skyrim has made do without it for countless generations but it would still be good to have it." I explained.

Really, I didn't have to go through the trouble of finding the damn thing since I had other things going for me. One, Whiterun was a powerful hold. Two, prestige from the war as well as prestige from ending the Markath crises relatively well. Three, no other Jarl was interested in the job and the only reason Torygg won was because of the said reason.

Irileth hummed, leaning back on her chair. "You are trying to ride a unruly guar, Balgruuf."

I shrugged my shoulders, me and many others knowing what was coming soon. "High Kingship will grant me the office to make Skyrim ready for what is to come in the future. We both know what the elves have done to Cyrodiil. Skyrim and High Rock are the only provinces that remain untouched by war. We must marshal our strength and pool in our resources for when the time is right."

"Having Skyrim rescue Cyrodiil, a tale as old as time," Irileth snorted.

I smiled slyly. "Indeed. The Nords have always been the ones that made or re-invigorated Cyrodiil. The ancient Nords with Saint Alessia, Talos ending the Interregnum. And soon, me as High King rescuing Cyrodiil from the clutches of the Dominion."

"Ambitious," said Irileth. "I hope it will not be the end of you, my lord."

"Not when I have you to guard me," I said, my attention going back to the papers. "Do watch out for the evil men and mer who wish to murder me, will you?"

Irileth sighed. "I am sworn to carry your burdens...."

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So, getting married.

I had always wanted to get married, eventually. But I imagined it to be with my partner later in life, all intimate and the like with close friends and family in attendance. Never had I imagined I would have to do so in a political arrangement with a woman who I might end up not getting along with but are expected to start a family with. 

If I can't get an amiable relationship with her, might as well have friendly terms with the woman so that my future children will at least have a mother and a father to raise them. 

Later, when I had adjourned to join my family for lunch, I found mother dearest bouncing up and down on her chair, excitedly reading through a  letter. Father rolled his eyes, busy digging his bread into a bowl of soup. I sat down at my usual place while Irileth went to position herself at the Housecarl's table. I glanced up at mother, bemused, as she set down the letter she was reading and set it aside to smile at me.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, momentarily losing my focus as the inviting smell of creamy potato soup filtered through my senses.

"Cecilia Tullius is making her way here now!" she said excitedly, her eyes bright as stars as she offered me the letter. "She'll be here in a few weeks!"

Ah.

"That's...excellent," I said, blinking. "Why a few weeks?" I remembered how terrible the situation of the roads were in Cyrodiil. 

"The roads have been clearer now," Said father, chewing through his bread. "The Legion has been steadily restoring order in Cyrodiil. Going by this rate, Cyrodiil will just be as secure as it was before the war. The major roads at least."

"I...didn't hear about that," I admitted.

"That's because you've been stuck in your office for days," mother tutted at me. "When was the last time you hunted and enjoyed yourself? A ruler must also go out in public too, you know."

"Come now, my love," Jarl Heorot added, smiling. "Let our boy stay in his work. I haven't had much free time since he decided to take up responsibilities from me,"

Mother rolled her eyes. "Let him have some free time too, Heorot. He's already done enough." She then turned to me, smiling. "My son, you can afford a day to yourself. Take a break,"

"But...my work?" I protested, thinking about the stack of papers back at my desk.

"You're the Jarl's son and you'll become the Jarl soon when your father steps down. Go and take a breather," she advised me, her tone brooking no argument.

And that was how I found myself prancing in Whiterun Plains, a company of men following after me while dogs and their own riders went ahead of us. Gone were my courtly robes, a brown and gold jacket around me with riding trousers keeping my legs warm and black boots to keep my feet comfortable. On her part, Irileth still had her usual leathers with hood on. Her eyes shining malevolently beneath the cowl of her hood. 

Now, I knew mother dearest had wanted me to go out and have fun with the lads. Hunting has been a noble sport and for me to now indulge in it every now and then was surely something to raise eyebrows out. But hunting, I found myself enjoying it if it was a small affair between trust friends and comrades. Now, I was going out for something far more different. 

In Whiterun Plains, there existed a bandit camp called Silent Moons Camp. There, it had a special forge that could make Lunar Weapons. I had been curious if such a forge existed in the lore world but I never had the time. Now though, I was going to make full use of it. 

"What's so special about this forge, my lord?" Irileth asked, her horses hooves clip-clopping on the stone road beneath us. Behind us, a party of riders followed silently, their eyes scanning the horizon for threats. 

"Apparently, it can give weapons a vampire-like ability to sap the lifeforce of those struck by it," I explained, pushing onto the easiest explanation I can give without going into game mechanics. In the game, that was what was advertised but the actual effect was those weapons could set victims alight. To be frank, I never really bothered with enchanted weapons unless it was absolutely necessary. The constant refilling them with soul gems was a drag to me. 

"That sounds useful," Irileth nodded, her head thinking of possible uses of such weapons. "Though, I can already imagine there are drawbacks to it, correct?" 

"There are," I confirmed, looking off to the horizon and seeing the camp loom ahead. It wasn't hard to miss. The actual camp was this temple that rested on a small hill, with a moderately sized cavern system below. In the game, there were a bunch of bandits hanging it that needed to be taken care of. Considering that there was no active civil war that made the policing of roads impossible and the Guard actively expanding its prerogatives, there really wasn't much of a bandit problem in Whiterun Hold. 

Of course, it didn't mean the camp itself would be inactive. Who knew what horror just lied in wait to consume some poor sod?

"The forge itself works with the moons closely," I explained, continuing on where I left off. "The magical effects that it gives only come into effect when Secunda and Masser meet. Once they are at their fullest, their combined light grants any forged weapon there the magical effect." 

"I see..." Irileth nodded along. She eyed me for awhile, her expression set beneath her hood. 

"Is something wrong, Housecarl?" I asked her, my attention still at the camp at the distance. 

"You're tense," Irileth observed. 

I laughed, unconsciously shifting on my saddle. "Whatever do you mean?"

She gave me a look. "You've been tapping your fingers together ever since we left Whiterun and your eyes have a certain distraction to them when you talk. Your smile also doesn't quite reach your ear," she shrugged. I blinked and sure enough, I had been tapping my finger unconsciously the entire time. I put a stop to it, clearing my throat. 

"You saw nothing," I harrumphed.

"I saw everything, my lord. I'm your shadow. My sight pierces all," Irileth snorted. Her expression became softer. "What's the problem, Balgruuf?" she said with a whisper, only making me hear. 

I sighed. "I'm due to be married in a few weeks, you know. I'm nervous about that," I spoke out with earnest sincerity. I don't know anyone who'd be not nervous with getting married. Now, I knew I had to do it and I made my peace with it but then, you just can't help yourself, you know?

Irileth chuckled on her saddle. "The big bad Elfsbane afraid of Mara's Blessings? What a sight!" 

"The betrayal, unbelievable,"  I shook my head. 

Irileth chuckled once more before her expression turned serious. "I understand why you would be tense my lord. But then, you've always faced terrible things and have come out on top on most of them. I'm sure you will be able to handle your marriage." 

"If only it were so easy," I said, shaking my head. 

"All things we do look hard at first sight," Irileth said sagely. "It's only when we try it, we know how it will end." 

I harrumphed. "Fair. Who said that quote?" 

She smiled at me. "You did, my lord." 

For the first time since we left Whiterun, I smiled. "Still remembering the things I say, huh?" 

She nodded. "Of course. Sometimes, you manage to say some wisdom. You still have hope in you yet, my lord." She turned away, the side of her hood covering her face. But still, I could hear her whisper. "Who could ever forget someone like you?" 

We continued on the ride in silence.

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A pair of clip-clopping horses approaching us made the column halt. Two riders clad in Whiterun brown and gray brought their horses to a stand still, hunting hounds trailing behind them. They saluted me, a closed fist to the chest, before speaking. "Hail, Lord Balgruuf." the first rider greeted me.

I nodded at them. "Hail, Kinsmen. What have you found at the camp?" 

"It's inhabited, my lord," the second one said. "We found men and women idling about the temple." 

I shared a glance with Irileth before I turned back to them. Of course it had to be inhabited. Now, I had to know if it was bandits, a group of travelers or some other nasty. "What can you tell me about them?"

"They were well-equipped, my lord. We spotted steel weapons on their person. And they had dark hoods covering them," the first rider revealed. 

"Dark hoods," I mouthed. I turned to Irileth. "Vampires?" 

She looked contemplative on her saddle, a thousand scenarios going through her head. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Tell me, where they actively trying to shield themselves from the sun? How did the hounds react to them?" 

The two men shared a look before nodding. "The hounds were snarling at them, yes." they confirmed. 

"Did they see you and the hounds?" I asked. I had to know, since I was basing my plan of attack with surprise in mind. To my pleasure, they shook their heads. 

Excellent.

I smiled at them. "Excellent! Now, what are your names, kinsmen?" 

"Huginn," said the first rider. 

"Munin" followed the second one. 

I internally laughed. Odin's ravens were named Huginn and Muninn. Then again, the two looked rather similar. Black hair underneath their helmets, the signature Nordic blue. I should consider renaming my scouting department into Ravens. It sounded much more better than an ordinary scout. 

"Well then, Huginn and Muninn. We have thirty riders with us. I want you each to teak ten riders and position yourselves northwest and northeast of the camp respectively. When I sound my horn twice, we will all charge at the same time and overwhelm the vampires with a synchronized charge. Understood?" 

The two saluted me before riding off, their hounds following afterwards. They barked their orders and soon, the riders sped away.  Irileth watched me silently on her saddle. "We're going to cavalry charge a den of vampires?" 

I nodded. "If it's a den of vampires, most of their number will be human thralls. Vampires are pompous twits who wouldn't do such low things like cleaning up after their messes or maintaining their dens. They have human slaves for that. And humans are easy to shock," I shifted, slowly unsheathing my sword out. In the light, its steel was near blinding. 

"What happens if we see their masters?" Irileth questioned. 

"It's four in the afternoon. They should be be still fast asleep. And besides, I'm confident that you will be able to deal with some vampires or two," I said, urging my horse forward. 

Irileth sighed from behind me. 

And like that, the remaining party of horsemen followed after me.

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Being a vampire's thrall, it promised many things. A chance at ultimate power, to become a lion amongst sheep. To begin with, Lars wasn't exactly the most impressive of men to begin with. A lanky frame, shaggy blonde hair. He was picked upon as the weakest of his village and he endured it all with quiet hatred, wishing for a way to get back at his torturers. 

Then, he met a pale-skinned man promising him a chance for revenge if only he could deliver fresh blood to them. That was what he did, preparing his village for the eventual descent of darkness onto them during the night. 

Before his revenge could be enacted, their plot was discovered and he was forced from his home. 

Now, he was shivering in the cold Skyrim wind, his back against the wall as he desperately tried to keep himself warm under an old and worn fur coat. His master and his fellow vampires had no such issues, being dead and all. He tried to ask him to be turned seeing as he had kept his end of the bargain but his master refused, stating the failure of the plot. 

Lars spat at the ground. All his service and he had nothing? 

Sighing, he pulled himself out of the wall and descended the steps of the temple they occupied, towards the grass below. Tents had been set up, with food for the thralls. While he wasn't exactly hungry, he felt he could use a warm sip of soup. He passed by the other thralls, each one busy in their own duties. He ignored them, seeing them unworthy of his attention. 

He blinked when a peculiar sound filtered through his ears. Horses hooves, crushing and thundering on earth and rock, going closer and closer by the second. He turns around, glancing up to where the sound was coming from and there, he saw it. Dark shapes coming towards them. Men in brown and gold armor astride mighty horses of black, chestnut, and white. The setting set them alight, their lances and swords glinting as the sun reflected off them. Golden banners fluttered in the wind, the stallion sewn onto it almost staring into him. 

"Attack! We are under attack!" he found himself yelling, stirring the other thralls from their own little worlds. Panic and adrenaline coursed through Lars as he quickly grasped at his belt and unsheathed a steel sword which hung from there. In the distance, some riders advanced further and from them, he could see them notching arrows onto bows. 

Lars turned, pure panic coursing through him. He ran past his fellow thralls, each one also having the same idea as him or were foolish enough to try and make a stand against the incoming riders. 

But it was fruitless.

Even before he could go up the third step, he felt sharp stabbing pains in his back. His eyes went wide as his scream died in his mouth. He collapsed, face first onto the steps but still, he lived. Fire seemed to consume him as the deepest pain coursed through him. Every time he breathed, it felt like flames. With shaky hands, he tried to push himself forward, to get onto the temple and forge at the top of the hill. 

It wasn't to be. 

He died whimpering, two arrows lodged in his back. The last thing he heard before darkness claimed him was the whinnying of horses, the clash of steel against flesh and the screams of dying men.

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Cavalry charges never get old. And incidentally, so will the people on the receiving end of one. 

It was exhilarating, being on top of a warhorse and charging down at some poor souls with an army of fellow riders. Granted, it was unfair for cavalry to be charging unsupported infantry but then again, warfare isn't about being fair but about winning. 

The thralls broke before we were even in ass-smelling distance. The smarter ones tried to run up back at the hill while some brave fools tried to stand up against us. However, there was only so much fur armor could protect and a lance coming at them with the speeds of fuck you wasn't going to cut it. Some were impaled, others were simply run over. I tugged my horse forward and my charger crashed into a man. The force sent the poor soul flying and crashing against the diirt. His ribs would have been broken. If the sheer physical trauma wouldn't kill him then his internals bleeding will. 

I reared my horse back, our charges' momentum slowly draining as we settled on straight melee combat. But then again, there was only so much the remaining thralls could do. They had no heavy armor, no heavy weapons to bring us down. They were lightly armed and lightly clad. Quick and easy to slaughter. The only concern that I actually had were their masters. 

Five hooded figures running towards us from the hill, dark red eyes glowing underneath hoods and wicked blades glinting in their hands signaled to me I was due to meet them. 

As much as cavalry charges were terrifying, our charge had long lost its momentum by now and I wasn't going to find out if we had enough strength to give them smoke. Quickly, I reached for my horn, signaling my riders to retreat. With practiced ease, the men kicked at their saddles and we turned, already leaving the vampires behind us. From behind, I could see Irileth tossing a fireball at one of the vampires before heading off to join us. The vampire was fast. Like, it saw the ball come at it fast. 

Well. 

Let's see how it fares against a massed cavalry charge. 

Immediately, I blew onto my horn a second time. The sound echoed throughout the plains. A signal to the Huginn and Muninn. When sufficient distance had been placed between us and the vampires, I quickly signaled for the rest of the riders to halt and rear back to the vampires. Sure enough, they were still trying to chase after us. I honestly should feel terrified at the thought of fighting literal vampires but with the sun still above, it rendered the vampires at half their strength. Plus, we had cavalry on the plains. 

And in the plains, cavalry was king. 

Holding aloft my blade, we charged, our horses whinnying and their hooves thundering on the earth. In the distance, I could see my scouts also converging on the vampires, banners flying and weapons shining. I sucked in a breath, my hand locking onto my sword more as the noose around the vampires tightened. I could see one of them openly snarling as he ran to face us. I growled back, leaning forward on my saddle as we got closer and closer...

Contact.

My horsemen were like hammers crashing upon them. Lances, bones, armor was broken as we clashed. My vision settled on one vampire I swiped at with my blade. The bastard raised his own sword just in time to meet mine. A resounding clang pierced my ears as we met. But I didn't stop to think, me horsemen and i continuing as to give space to my scouts with their horses. They feel onto the vampires similarly to ours. I reared back to see that some vampires had fallen but some were still standing. One of them, in armor similar to the game, was sporting two lances struck to his chest yet he was still standing. Below him were some of my riders knocked off their horses, near for the vampires to descend on.

That could not be allowed. 

"Irileth!" I roared at my Dunmer. I didn't have to however as she was already conjuring flames from her hands and lobbed it at the creatures. The fireballs sailed and made their mark, dousing two of them in flames. Only one was left, the red-armored fucker who dug his heels into the chestplate of one of my guys. His screams echoed in the air. 

"IRILETH! BURN HIM!" I roared again, kicking my horse to charge at the vampire. As I did, fireballs were being lobbed left and right towards the vampire who shifted his attention from making sport of my men to conjuring a ward to shield himself from the incoming fireballs. Gritting my teeth, my horse bore upon him, kicking him down onto the dirt. I reared my horse back again and the chesnut brown stallion tried to crush the vampire's head on the earth but the fucked turned into mist before the hooves made contact. 

I glanced around, teeth bared as I tried to find the vampire. The air leaving my lungs as I got tackled onto the ground was my answer to where he was. A heavy weight was on me as the vampire snarled from above. I roared back, thrusting my sword deep into his chest but it did nothing. The bastard fucking smirked, revealing rows of bloodied fangs. Adrenaline coursed through me as I resorted to the only thing I could do at the situation. With gloved hands, I poked his eyes as hard as I could, earning a pained snarl from the vampire as he tried to grasp at his pieced eyes. That brought me time to bring my sword for another thrust straight into his heart. 

The vampire froze as I twisted the blade with all my might, screaming as I did so. 

His body went limp and for a second, I thought the fucker was actually dead-dead. 

Then it happened.

It was so sudden, like a bullet whizzing past. It was only a few seconds in when I realized that the fucker had scratched me. The vampire had a look of absolute self-satisfaction on his face as he reared back his bloody hand to tear through my chest. But before he did, a thin blade swiped at his neck from behind. His head sailed, still having the look of dark-satisfaction on him before landing a few meters away. His body was still on me for a few more seconds before collapsing on the ground, dark blood pouring from the stump. 

I breathed in and out, still processing what the fuck just happened when Irileth loomed over me, pure concern on her face. Setting aside her sabre, she held out her hand for me. I grabbed it and she pulled me up. As I stood to my feet, I reached to palm my cheek. I pulled my hand back to glance at it. 

It was bloody. 

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A/N:  

And so, this chapter is finally complete.

Finally.