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Irileth

Their legs made to move, a certain haste gripping them. But Bolgeir halted for a second, turning to Irileth. "Before we leave, there is a request I wish to ask of you, Housecarl."

Cassius, Mira, and Gotz halted, looking to Irileth. The Dunmer felt all manner of haste urging her to move but she would grant Bolgeir his request. "Aye?"

"I ask that you and your men stand aside and let Solitude handle it. This is principally a matter of Haafingar. It will not look well for my Jarl to have the High King himself clean up his own city, nor will it look favourably for the High King to involve himself too deeply with such matters. For both of our Lord's sakes, let me handle it," Bolgeir asked, quick and to the point.

Irileth thought of it and had to concur with his request. In the context of her orders, she was to find the ones responsible for this mess. But dealing with a potentially unruly crowd? That was something she could not handle with. Besides, she did not have enough men for crowd control.

"Very well. But I must stress that the man who claimed responsibility must be arrested. The sooner he is behind bars, the faster we can put this sorry state behind us," said Irileth.

Bolgeir nodded.

And so, they left, passing by servants and guards milling about. At the entrance, Jarl Torygg stood by, speaking with a few guardsmen with plumed helmets. Captains, Irileth recognized. The red-haired Jarl saw them approach and held up his hand to pause the conversation he had with his captains.

"Bolgeir, Irileth," Torygg greeted them.

"My Jarl. I must beg your permission to leave the Blue Palace and attend to the situation at the markets," Bolgeir asked, quick to the heart of the matter.

"Very well," sighed Torygg, his face downcast at what was happening to his city. "I have here three Captains of the Watch. Three companies of City Guards shall be at your disposal."

"Three Companies? Isn't that a bit too much?" Cassius asked aloud.

"The other two will be in reserve, just in case something happens. We never really know with crowds," Bolgeir answered the Imperial, his head turned. The captains nodded.

"Do you have any specific orders, my Jarl?" Bolgeir asked, looking back to his lord.

"No swords, only clubs. I do not want any deaths, Bolgeir," Torygg ordered, his face grim. Irileth felt a pang of sympathy for the man. When she last saw of him, he burned brightly with innocence and youth.

No longer.

"Arrest as well the man responsible for this entire mess. We must not let him out into the streets, for all the trouble he has caused. But I assume that this order was already given, courtesy of the High King?" continued Torygg, briefly looking to the yellow-cloaked Irileth who nodded grimly.

Bolgeir nodded as well as unslung his helm from is belt and lowered it on his head. "As my Jarl wills,"

They then set off from the Palace, helms slung on their faces. Dealing with a crowd was always so dangerous. It was fickle and unpredictable. With the right words, any talented demagogue could whip them into a dangerous frenzy, stopping only when everything has burnt down or the crowd itself was beaten into submission. Irileth could only hope they didn't have to do that.

But as she walked, she noticed something strange.

"The crowds from earlier, they are gone," Cassius noted. Indeed, the baying and crying crowd of citizens were not there.

"Oh my, where could they have gone?" Mira interjected, sarcasm dripping her voice.

"Not the time, you two," rumbled Gotz, Their steps were a near-perfect rhythm of boots and greaves against stone, equipment clinking against armor as they moved. Citizens gave the marching band a wide berth, some were even rushing back into their homes, shutting their windows and bolting their doors shut. They couldn't be blamed for that, not with a mob so dangerously close to forming in their city.

"What? He asked!" Mira tried to protest, only for Gotz and Cassius to glare her down. The mage grumpily looked ahead, their column bringing them under the shadow of Castle Dour.

"Focus," Gotz said again, his expression brooking no argument.

"We are nearing, make ready," their accompanying Guard Captain interjected. Of course, Irileth heard and smelt it before they were even close. The sea of Nords so bunched up, and angry. In the central market square, there they were in a sea of yellows, and grays, and brown. They stood enraptured as a lone figure stood atop a box, right next to him a single burly Nord stood with crossed arms. Irileth's ears rung as the figure gave his speeches, her ears echoed with the thumping of heartbeats and bated breaths of those in the market. Around them, merchants were quickly closing up their stalls as more and more Nords started to join in, either curious of the gathering or grief-stricken Nords whose family members were taken in the night.

The figure seemed to have been in the midst of a speech, Irileth felt, as the crowd was only getting angry and angry. A part of her felt off however, a familiar tingling arching up her spine. In the meantime, steel-red guardsmen of Solitude surrounded the gathering at certain points, disciplined expressions underneath their helms, heavy clubs at the ready.

"Oh Solitude, what has the Jarl done in the face of your vanished mother and father? You lost son and daughter? What help has good Jarl Torygg done to return them to you? He has done nothing! He has sat idly in the Blue Palace, pretending to be a Jarl, when a true Jarl would do anything to help his people!" the figure howled, to the roaring of the crowd.

"This disgusting littl-" Bolgeir bit his rage. How dare this insect even speak of the Jarl like that!? "He is preying on their grief to turn them against the Jarl!"

"Not just their grief," Irileth whispered, identifying that feeling in her spine. She turned to Mira whose face was locked square at the speaker.

"I can feel it. Trace amounts of magicka in the air," Her eyes hummed with power before returning to their normal color.

"Sorcery?" Bolgeir asked the mage in a swift turn.

"I...I cannot say for certain. It is unlike anything that I have felt before!" Mira whispered back.

As they discussed, their arrival did not go unnoticed however. The speaker turned and regarded the housecarls and the guards. He brought down his hood, revealing a Nord with shaven hair and a neatly trimmed goatee over thick lips. He was handsome, in the mannish sort of way. He sneered at them. "And at last! The puppets of puppets have arrived!"

As requested, Irileth motioned to her fellow Housecarls to take a step back. Bolgeir marched forward, lifting up his helm to better project his voice. "In the name of the Jarl, you are under arrest for disturbing the peace, demagoguery, and treason! What say you in your defense!?"

A hush fell in the marketplace as the crowd glanced between them and the speaker. At that, the speaker's followers surrounded him in a tight ring. The burly Nord at his side glowered at Bolgeir. "Treason?" sneered the man, disdain seeping from his voice. "It was not I who committed treason, but the very Jarls that have claimed to rule us!"

"Your master and their master, the so-called Emperor, all committed treason against Talos's Empire when you all signed the White-Gold Concordat! You are all the true betrayers of what the Empire was truly about when the Jarls did not rise when news came of the coward Emperor that banned the worship of the God that allowed his office to exist!"

As the Nord spoke, Irileth felt a tugging at her side. It was Mira. "The magicka he is using...it is waxing and waning," the Breton whispered to her. "He is controlling the strength of the charm spell in swaying the crowd!"

Sure enough, Irileth saw brief flashes in the eyes of the assembled Nords. Every single time, they only grew more and more enraptured, and angry.

"And a demagogue, am I? What? Is Jarl Torygg afraid of me speaking out the truth? The truth of citizens vanishing from their homes? Is it a crime now, to ask questions of where they might have gone? What has he done in the face of them vanishing? Oh right! These are simple peasants, not his rich merchants or his perfumed Thanes!" The speaker cackled. He turned his attention from Bolgeir who seethed in his armor to the crowd before him.

"He accuses me of disturbing the peace. Well, I am not a Nord who would live in a gilded cage. I am not a Nord who would sit idly by and let his traditions be taken away from him. I am not a Nord who would allow his neighbors to simply vanish, while I feast on past glories and rich food! I am a true Nord! I have not forgotten Talos, whose deeds earned him divinity! I am a true Nord, that looks to his friends and neighbours for support! Look to yourselves, who have found new friends and help in this tragedy, while your Jarl does nothing!"

"I have heard enough! Arrest him!" Bolgeir yelled. And with that, the Solitude Guard advanced, shields and clubs raised.

"I will not be silenced! To those who consider themselves True Nords, with me!"

And with that, chaos descended. The Nordic ring surrounding the demagogue tightened. The crowd in the middle found themselves trapped between the speaker's devout faithful and the ring of guards with held shields and heavy clubs. The air was thick with pent-up emotion. Anger, fear, doubt. It would only take one wrong move, one quick action for everything to be released in a eruption.

From somewhere, a rock was tossed. It flew in an arc and struck a guard on his helm. The same guard who was struck, in a rage, landed the nearest member of the mob a heavy blow with his club.

And with that, chaos descended.

"Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" A faithful of the speaker yelled out as a battle-cry, a cry that was taken up by members of the mob. The zealot charged at the line of shields, leaping up at the assembled guardsmen. The same guards tightened their formation, clubs swinging freely at the assembled mob. Others who were uncertain and surrounded gave in to the collective mentality of the mob, throwing punches and rocks at the guards. In the descending melee, the speaker quickly slipped away as fists and clubs flew.

"Quickly now! After him!" Irileth urged her fellow housecarls, their cloaks billowing as they gave chase. They ran through the fighting Nords, dodging and weaving. It took skill for Irileth to weave through the fighting as bodies flew, the Nords descending into the spirit of the melee. Mira used a spell to render herself invisible to the eye, allowing her to simply go through without having to duck and weave. Cassius, the less flexible of the group had to raise his shield and push some Nords back to get through. Gotz simply threw aside those in his way. 

"There he is!" Irileth yelled, seeing their target ushered through into an alley. They ran after them, the fighting vanishing behind them. The alley was dark and maze-like, leading into different paths. Dark, damp, and lonely, it was the perfect spot to either get stabbed or robbed, not exactly in that order. 

"Cassius and Mira, go left. Gotz, go right," Irileth ordered. The housecarls nodded, splitting up. But before that, Mira's hands glowed with power. 

"For close encounters," Mira said, tossing wards and enchants on them. "Don't get too cocky with these. A couple of hits, you'll have to rely on your armor." 

And so, they continued on, trailing the path left behind by the zealot. Her fingers landed around the hilt of her saber, ready to be drawn in case someone would obstruct their path. Irileth's ears perked as the sound of running feet registered in her senses. 

"This way," Irileth said with haste, her legs going into a sprint. Gotz followed after her, slightly slower but nevertheless speedy. Eventually, the alley rounded into a corner, and onto another path that lead back into the main street. The sound of running feet became closer. Her grip tightened, ready to draw but Cassius and Mira simply appeared into view. 

"Did you find him?" Cassius asked. 

Irileth shook her head, walking through the path. Her eyes swept the street, taking in every single detail. Some ordinary citizens were walking away from the melee in the far distance. A melee that was still ongoing. From behind her, her fellow housecarls filtered out into the street, eyeing around. 

"Mira, Detect Life, now," Irileth ordered. Mira turned to her, eyebrow raised. 

"You do realize that there are hundreds of people in this street?" the Breton pointed out. 

"Can you not separate people's presence?" Irileth asked. 

"I can try," Mira sighed, shaking her head. Looking up, her eyes glowed with power. For a few heart-wrenching seconds, the housecarls had to wait for what the Breton could detect. Eventually, Mira turned to the far distance, where a pair of men were walking with raised hoods. One of the men being rather tall and burly...

"Them!" Mira yelled. "Go!" 

The housecarls went into action immediately. The two were so close to leaving through the gate. If they went out then only the Divines would know where they would go. Their weapons were quickly slung out of their scabbards. Irileth yelled out to the guards who stood by the gate. "Guardsmen! Stop those two!" 

The two men halted, frozen in their spot, as Irileth yelled. The guardsmen who milled about blinked in confusion at the yelling Dunmer before they registered the yellow cloak on her, and on the shoulders of the other housecarls. Turning to the sighted men, the guards took a step forward, gauntleted hands reaching for the blade hilt on their belts. 

Irileth walked forward, raising her sabre. Around them, citizenry gave the on-going scene a wide berth. "You! Raise your hoods!" 

Slowly, the men did. A clean-shaven head revealed itself.

"Turn to me, and slowly!" demanded Irileth. The man complied, and slowly he did so with arms raised. A familiar face revealed itself to Irileth. His face was serene, and without fear. 

"You stop the Sons of Skyrim from embracing destiny?" The zealot asked, cocking his head. 

"You are disturbing the peace, a peace that the High King and his Jarls have maintained," Irileth replied, motioning to the guards to bind them. "Your actions have threatened that peace and invite a danger this realm does not need." 

"The High King?" The zealot barked a laugh. "He is a puppet to a puppet. These men who claim Lordship over my people...over Skyrim....they are not its true lords." 

Irileth shook her head as the nearby guards brought the zealot and his companion to their knees, ropes thrown over them. Irileth thought that the Nord was speaking about him and his band of fools. Who else could they be speaking about other than them? 

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A/N: This took way too long to write. But now, I am done. Off to sleep for me.