Balgruuf the Great chapter 34 preview (Patreon)

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Balgruuf

Cecilia's soft breaths greeted me when my eyes awoke. Groggy, I glanced around and first felt her warm body snug tightly to me. Slowly by slowly, last nights events registered in my head. I had to say, our sex lives together was going to be beautiful. 

Our private habits aside, I allowed myself to smile a little bit as I ran a hand through her brown hair. Her lips quivered a bit as she felt me touch her but she stilled. I leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her forehead before slowly manoeuvring myself out of the tangled web of limbs we had. 

Stretching, I put on a robe as I made my way to my window. With the turn of a knob, the shutters were opened and I was beheld to the wonderful morning breeze from the Plains. The sun was just rising from the distance and already, the city below was slowly waking up. 

My mind took me back to the times where I would look at Skyrim screenshots and of the beautiful set pieces that people capture with the simple click of a button. I remembered the desire I had, to see and be at the places where they took their shots. I wanted to visit the mountains, the hills, and the plains they adventured. 

It was a twist of irony that I was taken to live inside the Elder Scrolls but my life was going to be spent in running a city and eventually, a kingdom. 

It's so easy for people like me to lose sight and wonder of the worlds we are thrown into, so lost in the local politics and goings that we forget about the beauty and magic of the world we live in. Shit, if I was just a normal joe here, I'd definitely spend most of my days wandering around, absorbing everything I could and doing degenerate shit on the side. 

I mean, who wouldn't? 

Speaking of degenerate shit,

I turned from the window, back to the bed where Cecilia lay sleeping. With the class of a gentleman, I leaned over and grasped her rear. 

She nuzzled into my pillow, still quite sleeping despite me essentially fondling her ass. 

I always considered myself a leg and breast guy but I think I got where rear enjoyers were coming from. As according to what someone said, "Big tits but not ass may fill your hands. But big ass with no tits will fill your heart." 

"Mnh..." Cecilia spoke out through the pillow. ''Didn't you had enough last night?"

Not quite as asleep as I thought. She groaned as my fingers squeezed. ''With an ass like this, I can never have enough." I chuckled. "Madam Shapely Rear-End.'' 

"Call me that again and I'll put my sword through your throat.'' Cecilia warned me but the drowsy way she said that made her threat negligible. 

In response, my hand slapped her ass. It jiggled slightly and a bright pink mark was left there. 

"You are such a child," groaned Cecilia, twisting on my bed. I smirked at her, leaning in to plant a kiss on her lips. She melted into the kiss before I pulled out to once more stretch on where I stood. Cecilia's eyes glanced down at my cock. 

She smirked. 

''Not bad, for a Nord." 

I raised my eyebrow. "Not bad? I wasn't the one screaming 'Breed me' last night, with all due respect.'' I said, putting on air-quotes with my fingers. In response, she tossed a pillow at me. 

"Silence, Nord,'' Cecilia grumbled. ''Remind me not of my degeneracy. I'm a noblewoman, after all.'' 

The pillow slowly slide below, revealing my grinning face at her. ''A noblewoman who liked bei-

My face felt the clash of another pillow. Cecilia for her part swept her legs off the bed. ''And if you want such an experience again, you will not say a word of that side of me to anyone. Now, I am famished, husband. Let us have breakfast.''

''As my lady commands," 

Irileth didn't meet us outside our room but I could feel her presence, watching and waiting. There were many guards outside and servants which we greeted. We made our way into the porch where we finally ate breakfast. As usual, it was simple but hearty. A potage of potatoes and leeks served in heavy cream, glistening braided bread, sticks of butter and eggs scrambled with cheese, onions, and scallions. We ate quietly, our mouths and stomachs much more interested for food rather than conversation. 

''So, what is your timetable for today, husband?" Cecilia asked after munching on a piece of bread. I swallowed down what I was eating before answering. 

"I shall be doing my father's work in administering the city and the Hold. He is due to abdicate in favour of me. So, I have been taking more and more of his duties, administration wise." I explained. Cecilia raised an eyebrow. 

"'He is going to abdicate? What for?" 

Ah, I didn't tell her about dad being a paraplegic. ''When Whiterun answered the call for help from Markarth, father was injured from a Reachman ambush." I mimicked a rock falling down on my palm. ''The Reachmen had used boulders to try and crush our forces. In their ambush, father's horse was killed and his legs were flattened. Hence, he is to step down thanks to that injury.

"He never looked injured to me,'' pointed out Cecilia. 

"That's because he has been keeping his injury a secret. Much more important during our campaign. Morale would have broken if the troops learned that their Jarl was half a man that he was," I explained. "Father could have chosen to return to Whiterun and let me run the campaign. Indeed, his advisors and I begged him to return. But he refused." I later sighed, remembering how frustrating it was as we begged him to not go along for the ride. 

"He refused and insisted on going, did he?'' Cecilia asked with a hint of amusement. 

I nodded. ''Oh yes. In his words, he wasn't going to let anyone of his soldiers to anything that he himself wasn't willing to do. A leader leads from the front, or something to that effect.'' 

"The tree and the apple are very much the same then," smiled Cecilia. I snorted. 

''Our family held to our seat thanks to Duty. Duty to Whiterun and her people. The moment we stop doing that, we lose our mandate. This is the Social Contract that has defined my house and we are bound to fulfil its obligations.'' I said with a shrug, popping buttered bread into my mouth. 

"Social Contract?" Cecilia mouthed. 

I blinked and thought for a moment. ''Consider it a unofficial agreement between the governed and the governors. This contract means that the governed surrender some of their freedoms in exchange for security. We as nobles offer security to our people and in exchange, the people give their consent for us to rule them."

Cecilia nodded in understanding. "I see. Some of our fellows would disagree with that and say that the people owe them their allegiance, regardless if they have consent or not." 

"That would make them petty-tyrants though I am not surprised if nobles think they can do as they wish to the people that serve them. Who's going to stop them after all? There is only so much abuse that nobles can do though before their people get sick of it and rebel against them."  I said, dipping my bread into my potage. "Fact is and I speak this truly, it is only a matter of time before the people decide that concepts such as nobility is a relic of the past and decide to rule for themselves.'' 

To be frank, I had no idea if Republics or the idea of Republics even existed in Tamriel. It looked as if most of the governments here were the one and the same. I feel I was missing something but I wasn't too deep of a lore fanatic to know if concepts such as democracy or republics were around. 

"That is quite a claim,'' leaned Cecilia. ''Would you give up your power and your seat so that your people could rule themselves?''

"Oh,'' I snorted. ''Absolutely not. I rather enjoy my position.'' 

"Then there you go,'' Cecilia pointed out. ''Such a thing as you say will not happen as the nobility would not voluntarily surrender their power. You yourself won't surrender your seat. The nobles hold and cling to power as a miser holds on to coin. The White-Gold Tower will not tolerate any attempts to challenge its authority. If such a system as you say will come to pass then I feel it can only come to pass when the nobility and the White-Gold Tower fails in its duty so spectacularly that the people have decided to take up the mantle of ruling themselves." 

"Which circles us back to the Social Contract," I returned to what I had said earlier. ''We the nobility are obligated to rule well, in exchange the people let us rule them. Though, it is not always a guarantee that the nobility will always rule well.''

"Then a question, Balgruuf.'' Cecilia asked. I nodded at her to continue. ''In such a case of the nobility not ruling well, does it become acceptable and justified for the people to remove and replace them?'' 

"Is this in the context of the Social Contract?'' I asked and Cecilia nodded. 

''Then I suppose so. The nobility's function as the governors is to offer good rule for the people. If they fail in that then replacing them is justified." I answered. 

"But is that not rebellion?'' Cecilia quizzed. 

"Only if it fails. If not, then it is a revolution.'' I asserted. 

''Be careful with that talk, husband. Some might interpret your words as support for Dagon.'' Cecilia said jokingly though there was a hint of worry in her voice. 

''Oh, don't worry about it," I assured her. "It's not as if I'm going to try and overthrow anyone. My father is going to step down willingly and when the time comes, my authority will be legitimate and without question.'' 

It was then I felt tapping on my shoulder.

"My Lord, your father calls for you into his chambers. There is something important that he must discuss with you,"' the servant whispered. I glanced to him then back to Cecilia who shrugged her shoulders. ''I will not be so lost that I need you with me all the time. Go attend to your business, husband.'' 

''Aw, so you won't be missing me?'' I asked teasingly. The brunette turned to me, her eyes glinting. 

"I never said that, didn't I?''

"I love you too, Cecilia." 

''Go to Oblivion, you miscreant."

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The servant knocked on the door for me. Father's voice spoke up from inside. "Enter!" he called me in. With that, I swung the door open and there, I was beheld to the sight of father sitting in his chair and mother right next to him, still in their sleeping clothes. Before them was another man but he was in armor. I took a moment to glance at his armor. Two golden wolves were engraved onto black plate, worn over a deep red tunic. His helmet was at his side and upon closer inspection, looked like your typical Norse spectacled helms though his was less utilitarian and was extra decorative, black as the plate he wore and engraved with gold. 

I turned to my parents. "Morning, mother, father. What seems to be the issue?''

I blinked at the seriousness on both their faces. Father turned to Harald. "Housecarl, tell him as you have told us.'' 

He quickly saluted at me in the Norse fashion, a closed fist to the chest, and I returned the gesture to him. "Good Morning, my lord,'' the man greeted. "I am Harald, a housecarl from the Blue Palace." 

"Greetings, Housecarl." I greeted him, my mind flying to many different places as to why a housecarl from Solitude would be here, and so early in the morning no less. Man must have ridden like hell to get here. What could a housecarl sworn to the Blue Palace be here about and why was a simple messenger not enough? Did the Great War restart? Was High King Istlod deciding that we declare independence? 

So many questions and possibilities. I decided to rest the conspiracy theories and wait for the housecarl to give his message. "What could be so important that the Blue Palace sent a housecarl to deliver it rather than a simple messenger?" 

He looked grim. ''Bad news to report, my lord. It is with a heavy heart that I have to say that our High King, Istlod, has died in the night from health complications. The Jarls of Skyrim are invited to Solitude to attend to his Highness Funeral and convene for the Moot to elect the next High King.''

I blinked, processing this information. 

Holy fucking shit. 

I had no idea when Istlod was supposed to die but I figured it was going to be during the interregnum period between the Great War and the events of Skyrim proper. I did not expect him to die so damn early. 

Well, considering that my actions in The Reach basically killed canon anyway so, might as well hop on the gravy train. 

''Long Live the King," I intoned. The housecarl nodded, no doubt thinking that I was giving the praise to Torygg, basically the unchallenged nominee for High King. But Harold, dear Harold, I wasn't going to let any other man or woman become the next ruler of Skyrim, not while the Dominion was still right around the corner. 

No one else was going to be High King but me. 

I turned to father. ''When are we due to leave?'' 

''Soon.'' Father declared. "Get ready to pack for the travel ahead." 

''On it, father." I said with a bow, to him and mother. I saluted the housecarl again before slowly making my way out of the room. 

I stood outside their door, taking a breath. 

I felt a presence shift from behind me. Immediately, I knew who it was. ''I assume you've heard everything that was discussed?''

"Yes,'' Irileth confirmed, materializing out of thin air. She looked every inch the deadly assassin she was meant to be. ''What are your orders, Balgruuf?'' 

''Where are the men?'' I asked, thinking of the brave bastards that descended to Korvanjund. 

"They have arrived last night with the crown," Irileth informed me. ''They are currently resting and waiting for you to recieve them.'' 

"They've been fed and washed, yes?'' 

The Dunmer nodded.

''Then let me go and meet them then. Oh and Irileth, once you get the boys and girls in the courtyard, call for my father and his council, will you?"'

Irileth slowly began to disappear again. ''I shall make the arrangements, my lord.'' 

I watched the Dunmer nightblade vanish with interest. Useful spell that, I said to myself before turning on my heels to return to my wife. As I walked the halls, I settled into my thoughts. 

In canon, Torygg essentially got the seat simple because no other Jarl was interested in putting their name forward during the Moot. I could remember Ulfric taking the time to talk to other Jarls about how great it was if Skyrim could become independent. Man, that would have been the moment for Ulfric to put his name for election and he could have done everything he wanted legally but I digress. 

Now, I wasn't particularly worried about my chances. My CV was basically solid according to Nord standards. I was a veritable war hero, intervened in the Markarth crisis and I could look back to my bloodline way back to Olaf One-Eye as another feather in my cap. But then, every Jarl in Skyrim could always claim that their ancestor was High King one way or another. 

In terms of supporters, I already had Markarth in my side. And Ulfric had given his promise to support me though I haven't heard from him in awhile. I figured I could count on Falkreath since Dengeir owed me. So that makes three holds out of nine, four including mine. 

Then we have to go to the other Holds. 

''Aren't you deep in thought,'' Cecilia said aloud. I blinked. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I did not realize I had wandered back into the Great Porch. Cecilia had long finished breakfast and was now reading a book of some sorts. On the table, a porcelain tea set was on and the faint smell of black tea filtered into my nostrils, and she wasn't alone. 

General Tullius stood from his seat, clad in more civilian looking clothes than the usual musculata he wore. ''Lord Balgruuf,'' the general greeted me. I offered him a smile. Tullius and I spoke a few times since he arrived, him being busy with basically leading Cecilia's security detail while I busied myself in preparing for my wedding. But now, we could relax slightly and allow for free conversation. 

To be honest, I respected Tullius both in the game and in here. He had done marvelous background work in capturing Ulfric and was aware about the Dominion breathing on the Empire's back. It was a bit surreal to have him as a relative by marriage but whaddya know, it was already surreal to be isekai'd anyway. 

"Please, call me Balgruuf. We are family now," I offered to the General. 

"Then in that case, I would ask you to call me Marcus,'' nodded General Tullius. 

''Come sit down, husband. You look like you're about to give my cousin a report,'' smirked Cecilia, turning a page on her book. Rolling my eyes, I walked forward to sit in a free chair on the table. 

''Asides from my dear wife, did I miss anything being discussed?'' I said cheekily, to Cecilia rolling her eyes and Tu-Marcus chuckling. 

''Nothing too important, other than Cecilia and I discussing on some matters back home,'' Marcus Tullius revealed. ''I had sent word to my uncle that his daughter has been successfully wed.'' 

''I imagine my father-in-law is pleased.'' I asked with a raised eyebrow. 

''Positively brimming," drawled Cecilia, drinking from her tea cup. ''I can already imagine the letter asking when he can expect his grandchildren.'' 

''Tell your uncle and father-in-law dearest, in about nine months, give or take. I'm quite confident in my salmon swimming upstream,'' I snickered cheekily. 

Marcus Tullius coughed awkwardly as Cecilia spat out her drink. I laughed as my wife glared at me, beet-red in embarrassment. ''Balgruuf!" Cecilia cried aloud, to my laughter. 

"My salmon aside, I have news of some import to tell you two. Consider yourselves honored to hear it before the general public does.''  I said after much chuckling. Still beet-red, Cecilia wiped away at her mouth with a handkerchief. 

''What, did you remember how to breathe through your nose?'' grumbled Cecilia. 

I snorted. "Oh no, I that was the second thing actually. The news is, a housecarl had arrived from Solitude with some news." 

Marcus Tullius leaned in, interested. Cecilia crossed her arms, expecting me to say something stupid or along those lines. She tapped her fore-arm impatiently, ''Well?'' 

I thought about waiting some more to fuck with Cecilia but I decided to go ahead with the big reveal. "The High King is dead." I said, with a mournful a voice I could muster. My personal feelings to Istlod aside, he was still my High King and deserved to be treated with as much deference as possible. 

''My condolences to the High King and his family,'' Marcus Tullius offered, as expected. ''Who is due to succeed him?" he then asked. 

''Torygg, if I remember correctly,'' Cecilia spoke up, surprising me. She glanced at me, noting the surprised look on my face. "I was going to marry into a Nordic house, Balgruuf. I did my studies, so you know.'' 

I learned this shit so that I could assist you in ruling, was what she was basically saying. 

I smiled. ''Yes, that is correct. Father and I are to head to Solitude soon to attend the Moot,'' I glanced at Marcus to see the confused look on his face. 

''The process where the Jarls of Skyrim elect the next High King,'' Cecilia explained to him, beating me to the punch. 

"'I see,'' Marcus Tullis nodded in understanding. He was less knowledgeable in Nordic customs unlike my wife. It was to be expected after all. He knew little of Skyrim in the original game either. He then followed it up with another question. ''When the High King gets elected, how far do their powers go? I imagine getting elected to your position as High King means that you are beholden to your vassals?''

That is actually a pretty good question. 

One that I had been asking myself. 

''When a Jarl is elected as High King," Cecilia said slowly, recounting on her lessons in the matter. ''They are expected to speak as the representative of Skyrim, the voice for all Nords, so to speak. Their practical duties for the Empire include gathering taxes to send to Cyrodiil, commanding Skyrim's armies during war, and write new laws for the Kingdom." 

''But practically speaking, they hold no real power outside of their Holds,'' I added. Upon seeing the confused look on their faces, I explained. ''You see and as Gener-Marcus here noted, the High King is a elected position so their power is owed to the Jarls that put them there in the first place. Their laws and rule, I could best describe as moderate and light for if a High King actually rules instead of acting as a spokesman for Skyrim, the Jarls of Skyrim, heavily independent Jarls, would hate the centralization."

One thing I didn't enjoy in Skyrim was how the High King position was vaguely defined. It didn't list down how far the authority of the office went. But that didn't matter now since I was going to give it a clear and absolute definition. 

One High King, One Kingdom. 

Ever loyal to the Ruby Throne. 

"And the candidates for such a position?'' Marcus Tullius asked, wrapping his head on all the Nord nonsense. 

"It's been a unbroken line of Solitude Kings, to be perfectly honest," I answered. ''It's been that way since the Empire was founded, thanks to Solitude being the gateway to the wider Empire and having access to wealth thanks to its position."

''So, Torygg then?'' Cecilia asked, her feelings towards Torygg unknown to me. I smiled enigmatically at her. 

''Nope,'' I said, with an audible pop. ''I'm putting forward another candidate. Me.'' 

The two stared at me. 

''You?'' Cecilia asked me, full surprise and disbelief in her face. Marcus Tullius looked only in silence however. 

''Been planning it since I returned from Cyrodiil, to be honest.'' I said with a shrug. ''Is that so bad?'' 

''No, I'm only surprised to hear that my husband has decided on something as major as deciding to become High King to his kingdom without telling me about it,'' Cecilia said a bit too hotly, staring at me. Despite my being inches taller than her, I couldn't help but quiver at her stare. 

"I was going to tell you regardless, I just didn't have a chance to do so.'' I admitted honestly. 

"Why didn't you tell me?'' Cecilia asked, her face contorted in displeasure. 

"Who in Oblivion starts a conversation with ''Hey, sweet lady, I wanna become the the High King?'' I defended myself. ''We had just met and I wanted to get to know you first." Seeing the unconvinced look on her face, I sighed and reached forward to grasp her hand. I made sure our eyes met. 

"Cecilia, I promise to you, I was going to tell you eventually, when we could freely talk about it. I just didn't expect the High King to die so soon. The plans I had, will have, they've been forced.'' I explained to her with all sincerity I had. And I was telling her the truth. The original plan was for me to slowly talk to her about the full extent of my plans to Skyrim in general. 

Then Istlod died. 

A sad inconvenience but an inconvenience all the same. 

Cecilia had let me hold her hand which was a good sign that she was willing to listen to me. She sat silently, listening and looked into my eyes as I explained to her. After a moment's silence, she took a breath. 

''All your plans, whatever they are, I want in," she huffed. 

''All of them?'' I asked with a raised eyebrow. She looked at me as if I had grown a second head. 

"Of course all of them, you ninny. I'm your wife. I'm not going to sit down in a corner and stare at a wall. Let me help you in your goals. They've become mine as well, ever since we wed," Her tone bordered on frustrated but it had calmed the more she spoke. "We are one now, aren't we?'' 

I squeeze her hand, my eyes softening. ''We are.'' 

"Then tell me your future plans so that I can help you, Balgruuf. I cannot in good standing let my idiot husband fight his battle by himself. That would make me a poor wife," Cecilia said, pulling back to pinch at the bridge of her nose. 

'Use me, you damn nincompoop,' was basically what was unsaid. 

"Ahem,'' Marcus Tullis cleared his throat. Cecilia and I turned to him. I smiled awkwardly. ''Apologies for that, dear cousin-in-law,'' I apologized, unintentionally dragging the General into a short domestic dispute. 

''It is...alright," Marcus Tullius coughed. It was clearly not alright and he felt awkward as hell seeing that. ''It is...pleasing to see that my cousin shall be in a good marriage.'' 

''I assure you, I shall treat her with the dignity and respect she deserves," I vowed, and I was going to make do with that promise. "Only in private shall I be rough and bawdy, just as how she li-'' 

''Anyway!'' It was Cecilia's turn to cough, fighting back the urge to blush. ''Why do you want to be High King? From how you described it, you become an over-glorified Herald for Skyrim. What makes it worth it?"

Images of Cyrodiil flashed in my mind. For a moment, I was no longer sitting in the Great Porch. I was there in that village, taking in the smell of blood and death. I stood there before that burnt barn. Flesh, decayed and burnt, filled my nostrils. 

The mother and child, the woman covering her terrified kid's eyes with her hands. 

Then my vision return to the present, to Cecilia and Marcus Tullius looking at me in concern. "Balgruuf?'' Cecilia asked softly, half-standing in her chair and ready to put her arms around me. 

I sighed. ''It's alright. Just...just remembering some unpleasant memories." 

''Memories I also share,'' Marcus Tullius said, recognition in his eyes. I offered him a internal salute, from one veteran to another. 

''You want to know why I so want to be High King?'' I asked, to Cecilia nodding. "The Great War happened, that's why. I don't want to become High King because I crave power, I already have plenty of it here in Whiterun. No, I want to be High King because I want to prepare Skyrim for what will happen next." I took in a breath. ''Honestly, do the two of you sincerely believe that the White-Gold Concordant is going to ensure peace within our lifetimes?'' I asked, looking at the two of them. 

Their expressions could best be described as like how one would be in sucking in a particular foul lemon. 

I nodded. ''I thought so. The Concordant isn't a peace treaty to ensure peace for all time, it is merely a armistice. We all saw how the Dominion wants nothing more but to return the world to what they think should be, under the dominancy of the elves. They can frankly take their domination idea and shove it." 

''Agreed,'' Marcus Tullius nodded. ''Though, how do you plan to stop the elves?'' 

I grinned. ''Well, why strengthening Skyrim so that when the war resumes, the Kingdom will have legions that will not just be eager but well-trained, disciplined, and will have a thousand more ways to make the lives of the elves difficult. And that can only happen once I become High King.'' I cracked my neck. ''Skyrim will need a whole lot of things; reforms, revival, infrastructure updates and the like to make it ready for war.'' 

''And all this...to stop the elves?'' Marcus Tullius asked, his tone even. 

I smiled at him. ''Skyrim remains loyal to the Empire, General. Without the Empire, what hope is there for the realms of men?"

It was then, Irileth materialized out of thin air. Immediately, Marcus Tullius reached for a weapon he had hidden in his clothes but I held out my hand, stopping him. 

''Irileth!'' I greeted her. "The men have all gathered?"

She nodded. ''They await for you in the courtyard, my lord.'' 

I grinned. I turned to my wife and to my cousin-in-law. ''With me. There's something I gotta show you.''

Following Irileth, we strode into a courtyard. I walked as a victorious Viking would after massacring a monastery full of monks and to partake in the acquiring of booty, both of the material kind and the fleshy kind. Cecilia and General Tullius followed behind me. Earlier, I had asked Irileth if the courtyard was secure of bystanders and to my delight, she had cleared it of anyone asides from the people I wanted to talk. After getting us into the courtyard, she quickly vanished to get my father.

Excellent. I wanted this done proper.

"At ease, all of you," I waved to the men and women, now my Housecarls in all but name. They were all milling about when I entered. As soon as they saw me, they stood at attention. I could see some of them giving Cecilia curious looks. ''I would have met with you all last night but as you might have heard, I got married and had to attend to the most important chapter of my life!'' I loudly declared. ''Allow me to introduce my wife, Cecilia Tullius and my cousin-in-law, General Marcus Tullius." To the two, I smiled. ''And my wife and dear cousin-in-law, my merry band of Houscarls!''

Loud cheers came from the crowd, hearing straight from my lips that they were official. They also cheered at my wife, to my approval. Cecilia took it all in stride while Marcus Tullius had the perfect look of patrician calm on his face. I briefly turned from them to glance at the object which they had so dangerously delved for. I felt Cecilia's eyes on my back as I strode to the center of the courtyard.

At the center of the courtyard was a small table. On said table sat a chest of brown trimmed with gold. Approaching close, I lifted the lid open and my eyes  beheld the legendary Jagged Crown. The thing was positively huge and with all the bony spiky bits, I could rightfully call myself an Overlord. The very thing radiated power, majesty, and awe. A pity that the Crown itself had no special stats in game otherwise I would have kept it for myself.

But now, I had it and it was going to be mine until the day I die.

''As I had promised, you will gain much in my service. Wealth, glory, honor, fame, lands, titles and so much more,'' I had listed out their rewards. Some of their eyes glinted in greed. ''Well, considering what had just happened, there will be so so much more opportunities for all of us."

''What do you mean, my lord?'' spoke up Cassius Aquillon.

''As of last night, High King Istlod died of old age, surrounded by friends and family,'' I intoned. A somber mood descended in the courtyard, a mood I allowed to permeate. After a moments silence, I continued to speak. ''This means that the throne of Skyrim is vacant and soon, a Moot shall be called to elect the next High King.'' I explained. 

"You intend for the throne, my lord?'' Cassius spoke up. I smiled.

''I didn't let you all descend into Korvanjund for a meaningless fetch quest for an item that will be forgotten in a while, no, it was for a greater purpose.'' I explained, patting my hand over the chest where the crown sat. ''With this crown, I shall put forward my candidacy for the throne of Skyrim and once elected, become High King.''

Cassius's expression was neutral. His fellow housecarls were less so, faces ranging from surprise to shock. ''It will be a road I do not wish to take alone. I shall need loyal men and women at my side. I intend to bring Skyrim into a new future, into a better world. But I cannot do that alone. Life, prosperity, and glory to those that walk with me. Are you all with me, my housecarls?''

Weapons were drawn. Steel glinted. ''We are with you, my lord!'' They all yelled. I smiled as I opened the chest and lifted up the crown high. My eyes were set on Cassius. "Make your oaths, before this crown,'' I declared. At that moment, the doors to the courtyard had swung open and my father was led in, his housecarl and councillors trailing behind him. The lone Solitude housecarl was still here, to my surprise. It didn't matter though. For their part, my own men and women were too engrossed in the impromptu ceremony to notice them.

''I swear to follow you, my Lord, to wherever you shall lead us,'' Cassius spoke out loudly. "A Jarl, a High King, you shall have my blood, my blade, and my allegiance." He thrust his sword up high. ''Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!"

"Long live Balgruuf, Long live the High King!'' my housecarls yelled.

I turned to Cecilia. She drew her saber. ''Long live Balgruuf! Long live the King!'' she yelled out. I did not expect General Tullius to bow or make any promises but he did salute me.

I then turned to my father and his councillors. Irileth who had been leading them withdrew her own blade. ''Long Live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!''

Father glanced at the ceremony silently, while his councillors murmured. Harald, the Solitude Housecarl, was visibly pissed, for good reason. I was about to throw my hat into the ring and steal his boss's position after all. ''What is the meaning of this!?'' Harald hissed. ''Lord Balgruuf, you cannot do this!''

''And who says I can't?'' I replied coolly. ''There is nothing in our laws and traditions that state that the position of High King belongs to one Hold and family, housecarl. When my father and I shall go to Solitude, we shall attend the Moot and with this crown, I announce my candidacy for the throne of Skyrim.''

Harald and I both turned to my father who was still at the moment silently watching. Desperate, Harald tried to approach him but Wiglaf stopped him. Instead, he tried to reason with him. ''My Jarl, let us not throw the line of succession into instability! Think of Skyrim! Torygg was supposed to be the next High King!''

Jarl Heorot glanced at the housecarl then back to me, face neutral. I looked back, my grip on the Jagged Crown growing tighter. 

Our eyes met.

He closed his eyes for a second before reaching into his belt. He seemed to be pulling something out.

It was his sword.

The sword, he lifted as high as he could. 

"Long live Balgruuf!'' He bellowed. ''Long live the High King!"

Immediately, his housecarl and councillors pulled out their weapons, to the ignored protests of Harald.

"Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!'' the courtyard all chanted.

I allowed myself to smile as large as I physically could.

Today, Whiterun.

Tomorrow, Solitude.

And the day after that, Skyrim.

+++

A/N: It's good the be the High King.