Balgruuf the Great ch 36 preview (Patreon)

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Balgruuf

Shock and surprise. That was to be expected. I had after all come out of the woodworks and threw what was supposed to be a stable succession into the bin. I nodded at Ulfric who nodded back. I sat back down on my chair and so did he. With his nomination, I could count on the Old Holds of Dawnstar, Winterhold, Riften and his own Windhelm to support me. I had to admit that having Ulfric Stormcloak support you was a surreal moment for me considering who he was in the timeline that will never come to pass.

The Haafingar contingent, they were obviously not happy. From his seat, Torygg was looking at me with a expression I could best describe as conflicted. His wife on the other hand, pretty Elisif was giving me a look that would have killed me ten times over.

"Order! This Moot shall have order!" My father yelled from the dais. That had failed. Irked, he bellowed. "ORDER! THIS MOOT WILL HAVE ORDER!''

Father had an impressive set of lungs. The fact that his voice seemed to overpower the shouting was proof of that. The yelling died down. The few that kept opening their mouths, he sent a death glare. That had shut them up. With a uneasy quiet enforced, Father took in a breath then exhaled. "Let it be written that Jarl Igrod of Morthal nominated Jarl Torygg of Solitude to be High King,'' he declared and by the side, a clerk who had been busy documenting the Moot nodded. Father glanced at me, his expression conflicted before turning back to the same clerk. ''Let it also be written that Lord Ulfric of Windhelm nominated Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun for High Kingship.''

At that, the clerk dutifully took his quill and got to work. Father turned from him and back to the Moot. ''We have the nominations. If no other Jarl wishes to nominate their fellows, then the nominations shall close.''

A deathly silence fell on the assembly. I leaned back on my chair to glance at the reactions of the different Jarls. I kept their reactions to memory. I turned back to the dais when Father spoke up. ''As no other Jarl have made their nominations, I declare it closed. Per tradition, the Moot shall hear a few words from those nominated. Jarl Torygg, if you would please step up?''

All eyes in the Hall turned to Torygg who turned whiter than snow. Everyone was listening in. The Jarls, the Thanes, the Housecarls and guards. The clan chiefs, the servants. If only walls could hear, they would be listening to what good ol Torygg had to say. Torygg turned to his wife who looked up at him with doe eyes, I could only imagine. Those eyes of hers seemed to work as Torygg stood up.

He was most likely expecting to make a perfunctory speech on how honored he was to be chosen, of how he would do his best to be worthy of the throne, yadda yadda. But now? He had an actual challenger to the Throne of Skyrim. It was high time for him to show off his oratory skills, to sway the undecided Jarls to his side.

He took a breath.

"My father Istlod ruled Skyrim with peace, wisdom, and security. I would be unwise if I would not do the same.'' Torygg started, making sure to look at each Jarl in the eye. ''Not just him nor will I once my lords deem me worthy of the crown. Tis has been the charge, the way in which my family has ruled Skyrim. A line uninterrupted of peace and wisdom. I will not deny that there have indeed been moments wherein Solitude has not kept to its word but then, we have also proved our ability time and time again.''

An appeal to his father's loyalists? To traditionalists? Man was starting strong.

"That is what I shall offer you, my lords, if this Moot shall choose me. My life, my body and blood, I shall work hard to ensure that the long line of peace and wisdom that Solitude remains unbroken, that Skyrim may rest after sending much of its sons and daughters to defend the Empire during the Great War." He stood tall, making sure that he could be seen and that his voice could be heard. He spoke slowly but clearly and properly. He did not slouch, he did not panic. He stood high and tall for the Moot to see.

Left unsaid was him citing the long proven history of Solitude being generally hands off in its rule of Skyrim. The peace and wisdom he refers to the letting the Holds do what they wish. And the appeal to rest? Torygg more than likely knew that the Jarls were anxious for stability considering the Great War and the recent quashed rebellion in the Reach.

''Indeed, I am young. Indeed I am untested. But a good High King is a man that recognizes his faults, that knows he does not know. All of you here are lords and Jarls with much experience in the business of ruling. I will be most foolish if I do not look and count to you all in the ruling of this Kingdom. No my lords, not one man rules alone. In the Kingdom which I shall be High King, all of us will rule, not just I.'' Torygg spoke humbly, dipping his head slightly as to prove his point but clearly.

He looked up, letting a little bit of silence fall. "That is all I have to say, my lords. For no more words are required when my honor is assured, and that my kingdom, our kingdom, shall be a kingdom for all.''

With that, he glanced around around the room but not before looking at me. I joined in the applause that happened as Torygg sat back down on his seat. By his side, Elisif was beaming at her husband. Now, that's a wife any man ought to be proud of. As the applause died down, father harrumphed. ''We have heard the words of Jarl Torygg. Now, the moot shall hear from Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun.

I stood up and took in a breath. The eyes that were locked on Torygg were now locked on me. 

 "Honored Lords and Chiefs of Skyrim, I shall be brief in my speech for the time spent giving speeches here shall be best used in governing Skyrim,'' I declared, promising them that I would be brief in what I had to say. "I agree in what Jarl Torygg says that Skyrim needs stability. That is what I promise once you deign me worthy of the throne. If one needs proof, all one needs to do is to look to Whiterun, where my achievements and my competence is displayed for all to see."

"Whiterun has never been richer, more prosperous than ever. Thanks to our methods, our people have access to plentiful food. Thanks to our methods, our soldiers-at-arms are better protected in their duties. I am not a miser that I will keep such methods to Whiterun's borders but spread out so that all of us can prosper,'' I said aloud, giving them the nudge that whoever voted for me would get the same administration and development that Whiterun had. This was basically an appeal to the more financial minded Jarls that we were going to be rich. And a little nudge to the East Empire Trade Representatives.

"Let not one man say here that I would not offer my life and body for Skyrim or the Empire,'' I then added, giving the Imperial representative a momentary look. I pulled back my sleeves, displaying all the scars I had on my hands. ''These wounds, I had in the fields of Cyrodiil and the valleys of the Reach. For Skyrim and Empire, I would gladly bear new wounds for duty. You can count on me to lead our armies to defend our people and country, to be in battle than to be standing behind the safety of walls.'' I declared, an appeal to the more martial lords and a subtle reminder that I'm a veteran that have fought for the Empire and Skyrim. It was a bit crude for my tastes but it was a snubbing of the fact that Torygg had not fought a war in his life. Judging from how he bristled in his seat, that snub stung him deep. 

I then laid a hand on the chest where the Jagged Crown lay. ''Skyrim has lost a lot in recent years, my lords of the Moot, that cannot be denied. Sacrificed, one could say. But with this, we have reclaimed something which was lost to time. A legend from the past come to life. I wish nothing more but to resurrect the legends long lost to us, denied to us. When you deign me the honor of High Kingship, it is on this crown I swear to you that Skyrim shall restore the balance that was broken, reforge our steel into a sharp blade. Legends our forfathers were, aye. And legends, we can be so again.'' An appeal to traditionalists. I had thought about going to a patriotic rant about the elves but the Jagged Crown and all it represented, I think it would be more than enough for that particular bloc. 

I turned around again, looking at each Jarl in the eye, even Torygg. ''So what say you, my lords? Shall we become legends once more?''

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Father called for a recess, as tradition. Normally, Torygg would have been chosen as High King, we'd crown him, feast then go home. But since I had arisen as a challenger for the throne, he had to call for the traditional recess so that the Jarls would have the time to sit and think about their choices. Or in other words, a chance for the nominees to go and wrangle a vote from the Jarls. 

"Is this true, my lord? Is this the real Jagged Crown?'' Jarl Skald's eye were wide with wonder as he marvelled at the monstrous crown the old High King's wore. Beside me, Cassius was quietly carrying it while the other housecarls formed a protective ring around me. Irileth had vanished but I felt her eyes on me, watching and waiting in the shadows. 

I offered Skald a warm smile. Well, as warm as I could fake it. I did not like the man in the game, I did not like the man now that I had to see and smell him. Physically wise, he had sunken cheeks and withered skin. He was balding, the only hair left being his eyesbrows that were slowly losing its color. He wore the usual clothing of minor Hold Jarls as in the game, a dark blue tunic with a golden chain on his chest and a fur cloak around his shoulders. 

"Aye, my Jarl. Tis the real thing. My housecarls, they retrieved it from Korvanjund, King Borgas's final resting place. These three were the ones that delved into the tomb,'' I gestured to the housecarls around me. Jarl Skald turned to them, looking up at them and sizing them up. He would pull back, snorting. 

''I envy you, my lord. Your housecarls, they are at least worth something. My housecarls are fat and lazy, like my man Bulfrek.'' Jarl Skald said dismissively. I struggled to keep the smile on my face, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. The only thing stopping me from doing so was that I wanted to buy Iron from the fucker and that he was still a Jarl that could vote for me. 

''I'm sure if you gave your men a chance, they could make something of themselves, like this Bullfrek fellow,'' I suggested. Jarl Skald gave me a look before bursting out in laughter. 

''Bullfrek? Make something of himself? He is fit only to clean the floors of my longhouse and tend to my needs,'' Jarl Skald said dismissively. ''No, Bullfrek would end up soiling his own armor than fighting a sabrecat.'' 

I prayed to the Nine Divines for a chance to step the fuck away from Jarl Skald. Thankfully, Jarl Igmund was coming close, his redguard housecarl shadowing him quietly. I quickly excused myself from talking with Skald and he nodded, moving off to help himself at a nearby table where food and drink was being served. As we walked, my housecarls trailed behind me. Of course, each man and woman that we passed by stole a glance at the Jagged Crown sitting inside the chest. For something made of dragon bone and scale, it was pretty comfortable and warm. 

I finally met with Jarl Igmund and we clasped hands. "My Jarl Igmund, how fares the Reach? Apologies for not getting to talk with you earlier, the Moot began before we could chat." I apologized. Jarl Igmund shook his head, pulling back his hand. 

''It is alright, my lord. Duty calls. As for the Reach, it has been....it has been quiet,'' Jarl Igmund professed. ''Markarth has been slowly recovering from the rebellion and the Reachmen have been silent. I feel that they are planning something in those mountains of theirs.''

''Or they have been sufficiently cowed and recognized the value of Nordic rule,'' I began.

Jarl Igmund however laughed. ''In a perfect world, yes. But alas, this is not a perfect world." His expression turned serious. ''Now, I have a small request, my lord. May we speak privately?'' 

The flash in his eyes told me it was important. I nodded, and led Jarl Igmund to the side, behind some pillars. ''How can I help you, my Jarl?'' I asked, making sure that no one around was there to listen in. Though our combined housecarls made it clear that no one was going to bother us. 

''It is the voting, Lord Balgruuf. That is an issue I wish to discuss,'' Jarl Igmund sighed. I bid him to continue and he did. ''Whiterun marching to war for my father and Hold is a debt I can never hope to repay in my lifetime. However, I am faced with a difficult decision, I wish nothing more but to pay you back and offer you my vote, Lord Balgruuf. But I worry about the fallout in regards to Markarth's relationship with Solitude. You are aware of Markarth's mines, yes?'' 

I ran a hand on my beard. ''Largest silver mine in all of Skyrim, accounting most of the Kingdom's silver production." 

Jarl Igmund nodded. ''Aye. The problem which I worry for is that Markath relies on Solitude to ship our silver all throughout Tamriel, from Solitude it goes to such cities as  Sentinel, Daggerfall and beyond.'' 

I could see where he was getting at. ''And you worry that if you vote for me, Solitude would make it difficult to ship the silver Markarth produces.'' 

He nodded. ''Aye. We could shift our principal port to either Dawnstar or Windhelm but the route is far and expensive. Solitude is the closest. The roads into Hammerfell, High Rock, and the southern route from The Reach and into Falkreath, and down to Cyrodiil is an alternative but ships are faster and cheaper than land routes.'' 

"'That may be,'' I agreed, knowing full well that waterways were cheaper, faster, and easier than land routes. ''However, I may have a solution for your troubles and that I have found a way to make land travel easier, my Jarl.'' Jarl Igmund looked up in surprise. "You do?''

I nodded. ''You may have heard that Whiterun is in the midst of reconstruction?" He nodded. I continued. ''Well, that will include our road network which will no doubt speed up travel, and my armies constantly keep the roads patrolled and safe.'' I honestly found the road network in Skyrim to be pleasantly designed, considering it was part of a Roman Empire expy. I saw no reason however that I could not improve upon what the Imperials had long since built. "Should Solitude difficult, there are other pliable ports on our coasts other than Solitude.'' 

''But the loss of trade we have with Solitude, it would be dangerous for my Hold's economy, my lord.'' Jarl Igmund protested. I placed a hand on his shoulder. ''My lord, I do not think Solitude would be so petty as to make it difficult for you to ship your silver when you vote for me. It will severely affect their economy too and remember, Solitude is a middleman that produces few if little goods in its own. Their lifeblood is trade and transport. Torygg is young but even he would find it idiotic to let other cities ship Skyrim''s silver. No, I would not worry too much, my lord.'' I then squeeze his shoulder slightly. "And remember, my Jarl, that it was Whiterun that marched out to reclaim your city while Solitude stood by. Between the two of us my lord, only once can truly say they will bleed for their people.'' 

Igmund's expression could best be described as sullen. He sighed. ''I shall...I shall think on this, my lord. But rest assured that Markarth hasn't forgotten its debt to Whiterun. But I think that Markarth shall vote on a new High King...a proven one.'' 

I smiled. I got their vote. 

''May the new High King's reign be blessed.'' I intoned as we both wrapped up on our conversation and went out of our corner. We both found out that a crowd had formed around my housecarls, most of whom were gawking at the Jagged Crown resting inside the chest Cassius was carrying. I marched to greet them, opting for the most familiar faces as Jarl Igmund quietly walked off, his housecarl following him. 

"Lord Ulfric, Jarl Leila, Jarl Korir'' I greeted the Old Hold nobles. Ulfric seemed to be deep in thought, staring at the Jagged Crown before he saw me come to him. At his side, I could spy Jarl Korir of Winterhold and the Riften Jarl. What was her name again? Leila! I remembered. Leila Law-Giver. 

Both Jarls were either ruling a irrelevant Hold and a Hold that seemed to be the most degenerate city in Skyrim. 

Ulfric had visibly aged since the last time I saw him. He was easily coming into his canon appearance, big nose, braided blonde hair and the black-fur coat worn over a steel chestplate. On the chestplate was a circlet depicting a roaring bear. Jarl Korir and Jarl Leila looked pretty much the same as the game selves, albeit younger than where we saw them. Korir had fiery red-hair, atypical Nordic features and dressed in rather colorful garb. A furcoat worn over a blue tunic and a gold circlet embedded with three rubies. Jarl Leila on the other hand wore the same garb that she had in the game, a blue dress with red and gold patterns interlocking in the middle, all held by three gold circlets depicting the twin-crossed daggers of Riften, and a silver circlet with a sapphire gem in the middle, flanked by two black opals. 

''Lord Balgruuf. You seem to have gotten the Moot abuzz with your entry,'' Jarl Leila spoke up, her tone making her sound like she had discovered a thrilling revelation. I did my best to smile fondly at her, putting aside the fact that the woman had no idea that her decrees were worth next to nothing and followed with as much passions as a marriage bed gone cold.

'She's still a Jarl,' I told myself as I put up to reply. 

''Between duty and a quiet life, I choose Duty, my Jarl.'' I replied. I didn't really think I was a great genius or some horse shit but frankly speaking, anyone else was an improvement over Torygg. I meant no disrespect to the man but he spent his reign doing fuck all for Skyrim. And considering what was coming in the horizon, I needed to prepare Skyrim for war against the Dominion.  

''Well said, Lord Balgruuf.'' Jarl Leila praised. 

''But no disrespect meant, Lord Balgruuf, you are not a Jarl. Would it still be possible for you to be High King?'' Jarl Korir asked, after a moments silence. He seemed to be fiddling with his fingers, glancing at me then to Torygg who was himself bus politicking in his own little corner. I was about to answer when the Lawgiver spoke. "According to tradition, that would be so but it did not specifically state that the nominee must be a Jarl,'' Jarl Leila announced, bringing us into her little world of trivia. ''There have been instances when we've had High King's who were not Jarls such as High King Temylda who was a mere advisor of the previous High King, and High King Alldimar Ghostmaker who had been a simple adventurer before besting numerous Jarls for the position.'' 

''Then we need not worry if this goes against tradition or not,'' I said smoothly. ''Well put, Jarl Leila,'' I praised her. The Lawgiver preened. ''I am known as the Lawgiver, my lord. I know our laws and traditions. Perhaps if you require assistance with legal help, I shall be there for you.'' 

"I will take your advice into serious consideration, Jarl Leila,'' I promised her. I suppose I got Riften's vote. Riften was an anomaly to me, considering that it like Eastmarch had plenty of potential. It had vast woodland, plenty of mines to its name, had access to strong rivers where rivermills could be built and industry started. Of course, it had its own industries of producing Black-Briar Mead. The only thing which held it back from actually making something of itself was the rampant corruption and the Theives Guild which lived in Riften's underbelly. 

Speaking as someone that played through that questline, I would loved to save the Thieves' Guild. Speaking as a secular ruler wanting to centralize, I want the Guild to either be murdered starting with that fuck Mercer Frey or working for me. I would prefer the former and choose the latter if absolutely necessary.  

''Say that Winterhold votes for you, Lord Balgruuf. What could...what could this mean for my Hold?'' Jarl Korir coughed up, a little awkwardly. I turned to him and felt the desperation in his voice. Truth be told, I pitied Korir in the game. Man had his entire Hold swallowed up by the Sea of Ghosts. The lives and property lost, gone in a single night. 

I offered him a smile, a genuine one. ''I assure you, my Jarl, all of Skyrim shall be legends once more. Not just Whiterun, not just the Rift. But all of us. And you, my Jarl, are one of us.'' 

''Does this mean...?'' Jarl Korir faintly grasped. I nodded. 

''Whatever gold Winterhold needs to restore it to its former glory, you shall have it,'' I promised him. Truth be told, I had little ideas on how Winterhold could be developed. it was small and was snow-blasted 24/7. It's only worth I could see was the College of Wintehold and Korir's relationship with the College was far from healthy. I would have to consult with people smarter than me about that. 

But Jarl Korir seemed to harbor doubt. I could see the hesitation in his face. I guess that Torygg had promised him something similar. ''I keep my word, my Jarl. Only see to the Jarl of Markarth and the lances I mustered when I need not to,'' I reminded him of the fact that I was a proven man that followed through in what I promised. Torygg talked good but honestly speaking, he was by all accounts, a baby in both political sense and age sense. 

That seemed to assure Jarl Korir and he stepped back, to enjoy the perks of the Moot without paying for it no doubt. That left me with Ulfric.

Well, out of all the Jarls, I had yet to speak with Dengeir of Stuhn and Igrod Ravencrone. But Dengeir as of the moment, I could spy talking with Torygg and Jarl Igrod...she was firmly in support of Solitude, by the mere fact that her city totally relied on Solitude for everything so she was frankly a lost cause for me. 

''Lord Ulfric,'' I greeted him. Steely Nordic blue eyes met with mine. ''Lord Balgruuf,'' he greeted back, a knowing look between us. We both knew what we both wanted. And I was fully intent to bring the gloves out when the Dominion would come back knocking. 

''Preparation first, Lord Ulfric,'' I advised him. ''Let us forge the blade first then we can stab the sabrecat to our hearts content.'' 

Barely suppressed rage stormed inside Ulfric's eyes. "As long as it takes...'' He quietly grumbled. I smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. ''Their land, their people, their blood," I whispered to him. 

He took a breath. 

''I hope so, my lord. I hope so, for our Kingdom, the Empire, and Talos,'' he whispered back. I almost bit back  a look of amazement. So far, Ulfric had been showing remarkable amounts of self-control. If he could keep up that streak, he'd finally grow into a fine politician.

''My Lords of the Moot! The recess is over!'' Father's voice clapped like thunder in a storm. ''It is time to vote!''

Ah, fie. Looks like I wouldn't be able to talk with Dengeir after all.

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A few minutes later, the Moot returned to their seats. Each one of us, Jarls or representatives of our respective Holds sat down to make what was perhaps the most momentous Moot for Skyrim. On his dais, Father took a goblet of wine as the scribes took out new quills and dipped them in fresh inkpots, ready to write down 

No one, not even the rowdy clan chiefs wanted to interrupt what was to come. With a sigh, father set aside his goblet and glanced down from his dais. ''And now, we come to decide on who shall be worthy to sit on the Throne of Skyrim. Per tradition, the nominees are barred from voting. We shall now begin.'' 

I put on my most neutral face but deep inside, a sense of anxiety prevailed over me, some wild anxious thoughts coming into my head. I willed them all to go suck a fat one. 

''Jarl Igrod Ravencrone of Hjaalmarch," Father called out to her. Old Igrod stood, her lips pursing. ''Hjaalmarch remembers the rule of High King Istlod. We vote for his son and heir, Jarl Torygg." 

As expected. Igrod sat down, glaring at the other Jarls. Torygg sighed in relief. 

''Jarl Skald Feldgeif of the Pale," Father called forth. The cantankerous Jarl of the Pale stood up. He glanced first at Ulfric then back at me. 

''The Pale votes for Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun,'' he droned. A slight murmur broke out among the assembly but it quieted down as he sat back on his chair and the scribes took note of his choice. From his seat, Torygg's lips were thin. 

''Jarl Korir of Winterhold," Father called him. The red-haired Jarl of Skyrim's iciest Hold stood. 

''Winterhold stands for Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun!" he loudly declared. Torygg closed his eyes. My housecarls tapped the butt of their weapons against the floor. A glare from Father shut them up. Restoring order, he continued. 

''Lord Ulfric of Eastmarch!'' 

Ulfric stood up. 

''Eastmarch stands with the Stallion,'' he rumbled before sitting down. 

I grinned. 

''Jarl Leila of the Rift!" 

The Lawgiver stood up slowly, a grave expression on her face. "By rights of succession, the crown must pass to Jarl Torygg.'' I raised an eyebrow but then, Leila Lawgiver continued to speak. ''However, it does not say so that ruling is set in stone and any challenger can become High King, if they be worthy. And I, Jarl Leila Lawgiver deem Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun worthy of the Throne.'' At that, she sat down slowly, as if she had declared a most important announcement that would last throughout the ages.

Father then moved on to the next Jarl. "Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn, Jarl of Falkreath!" 

The Jarl of Falkreath stood up, looking quite old since I last saw him. "Falkreath rallies to Whiterun,'' he said simply before sitting down. 

The scribes nodded and wrote down diligently. I allowed myself to relax as I leaned back on my chair. All eyes turned to Jarl Igmund who sat silently on his chair. "Jarl Igmund of the Reach!'' 

Jarl Igmund rose slowly, conflict written on his face. 

He turned to Torygg. 

He turned back to me. 

Jarl Igmund closed his eyes. ''The Ram votes for....We vote for Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun.'' 

I smiled. From his chair, Torygg slumped on his seat, conflict on his face clear as day. Elisif glared at me openly, eyes burning with hate. 

I did not pay her too much attention however as I turned back to father who accepted a paper from the scrives. He held it up and read aloud. "1 vote for Jarl Torygg of Solitude!'' he announced. ''And six votes for Lord Balgruuf of Whiterun!'' He then put the paper down and looked up. "We have our votes. Shall no one be there to contest the results?"' 

No one made a sound. A second passed. A minute passed. Taking a breath, Father spoke aloud. ''Then the Moot has decided. Skyrim is a kingdom with a High King again. Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!'' 

There was a rumble as chairs scraped against stone. The Jarls, save for Torygg and Igrod stood. A flash of light as they held out their weapons high. The Thanes, the Housecarls, the nobles and clan chiefs, they all stood up and drew their weapons. 

"Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!'' 

I stood up slowly, letting the praise reach a fever pitch. I smiled, wider and more genuine than I ever had. The candles on the chandeliers seemed to dance and wave. 

''Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!''

''Long live Balgruuf! Long live the High King!''

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A/N: *Elvis voice* We are kings now, baby. Huh-hyah-huh-yeah!