Balgruuf the Great 58 preview (Patreon)

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Balgruuf

Light laughter echoed throughout the air.

"Higher, papa! Higher!" Little Gustav giggled. Booming and zooming noises left my lips as I lifted up my little boy as high as I could.

The schedule of a High King is always hectic and demanding, from the tiniest concerns to matters of state. In this position, time became a very precious commodity that I had to spend carefully. I couldn't just go toss it as much as I wanted. However, there were simply things that were just as precious or more.

I had taken the time to go and be a father to my son. He was a cute kid, with his mother's green eyes and my blonde hair. Gustav at this point was a fat-cheeked five year old whose boundless energy far outstripped mine or the maids that took care of him. As I lifted him, drowning myself in his laughter, his chief maid stood by my side, whispering to me.

"Prince Gustav has made significant progress in his learning, My King. He has taken to numbers and letters well, though he loses interest in them quick," the maid reported, a strained smile on her face. It was clear as day that dealing with my son had taken quite a toll on her. I felt more than fortunate that I didn't have to deal with that. I have dealt with little kids before when I had done babysitting work. While I love kids, having to actually deal with their zooming energy just took its toll on me.

"Is that right?" I laughed. "You know how to do your numbers?"

"Yeah!" Gustav giggled again. As if to prove it, my boy painstakingly and carefully recited what he had learned.

"One...Two...Three...Four," he began counting, using his fingers as reference. As he did so, I made my way to a nearby chair and had him sit on my lap. I ruffled his hair as he counted, showing off his knowledge. Not so impressive for the big boys and girls, but so much so for little kids. Praise and positive reinforcement makes better kids, when they put effort in things. And I was going to make sure my little boy gets it.

"Good work!" I praised him, patting his head. My boy beamed.

"Keep it up, son. Remember this, cleverness and skill in using a sword makes a better warrior." I said encouragingly, gravitas in my voice. Gustav listened to me intently, eyes shining with the innocence and wonder of youth.

I turned my head, glancing at one of my guards. "Am I correct, Battle-Born?"

"You are, my King," replied a young Idolaf Battle-Born. Far from the gruff and stiff legionnaire we'd see in the game, he looked a bit ill-fitting in the uniform of the Guard who were usually older and more experienced men. He was here thanks to the old deal I had with his dad. Back when I was trying to get the local Farmer's Guild to back up the methods I had wished to introduce, old man Battle-born's caveats for his support was my getting his eldest to serve as a housecarl. Of course, such a blatant political appointment would not have looked well for his son, his family and himself hence, Idolaf was given the opportunity to prove himself in the Guards first before I would accept him into my household.

Idolaf had taken it in stride, learning as best as he could from his seniors before I had finally allowed him to go and accompany me. Simply by being at my side, he was already earning prestige for himself and his family.

Already, the prominent clans in Whiterun were thinking up ways to get into my good graces. Hell, there were already those trying to get their kids to be Gustav's playmates. And some were even hinting at me that their daughters were very much the foremost example of Nordic beauty and elegance.

Pfft.

I left that sort of jockeying at the care of my wife. I just wanted to build shit and stockpile equipment for when the time came, it was back to business killing elves.

"You have children now, Battle-Born?" My eyes having not left my charge.

"Uhm, not yet. I've yet to find a woman worthy of me," Idolaf answered, his cheeks reddening at the prospect. Ah yes, I forgot. He was a teenager still, with all the bells and whistles of one. I shook his head. That and his dad hadn't found his canon wife yet.

"Oh, don't worry about it, my boy. You'll find that girl," I harumphed. "Love is a strange thing, Battle-Born. It will drive you to do things you never thought you'd be capable of. Better yet is when you find that girl, marry her, and-"

"And what, papa?" Gustav asked me, eyes blinking in rapt attention.

I paused, considering the boy on my lap.

"I'll tell it when you're older, Gustav," I instead replied, patting his head. Stealing a glance at my bodyguard, he was well into turning into a tomato at the unended sentence.

Ah, teenagers. Shy and awkward. The difference here though was that while Idolaf was a teen, he was a Nordic teen, meaning that he could totally and utterly fuck someone's shit up if ordered to. That sort of thinking made my inner warlord cackle a bit. It was rather intoxicating being at the top of an army of killers. Now I understand why dictators go off on the deep end.

Not that I was going to do that. As fun as going that route would be, I'd rather not fuck around not when there was the Thalmor still around. Thinking of the Thalmor made me frown. And seeing me frown, Gustav tugged on my robe.

"Papa...are you okay?" Gustav asked, his eyes full of worry. At my boy's voice, I smiled as I pat his cheek.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about some king things. Don't worry about me, okay? Go and learn your numbers," I said, picking up my boy and setting him on the side. It was about just time for me to go and get back to work after all. The maid walked forward to go and lead him away but the boy refused, hugging my leg. I sighed, smiling as my son refused to look away but at me.

"Gustav, I have to get back to work and you need to get back to learning," I told him but he shook his little head, only hugging me tighter.

"But I want you to stay with me!" protested my kid.

Ah. My boy. Why you gotta make this hard for me?

"Tell you what. Do some advanced maths and if you get it right, we'll go hunting, you and I," I offered. 

"You promise?" Gustav sniffled. I nodded. 

"The High King's Word is yours," I said with a little bit of gravitas. Gustav took a breath and gave me one last hug before allowing himself to be lead away by the maid, and his army of guards. I gave him one last look, committing my promise to memory before sighing and collapsing on a nearby chair. 

"My King?" Idolaf asked me, concern in his voice. I waved him off. 

"Don't worry, Battleborn. I am fine. Just....dealing with the fact that this sort of thing doesn't exactly allow me to spend as much time with my own son," I said, massaging my temples before standing up. 

Unsure of what to say, Idolaf simply took a step forward, thinking that his presence there gave me some comfort. I shook my head. 

"Well, that's enough sentimentality. The Imperial Representative has deigned to show himself. Time to get matters of state sorted," I said, cracking my knuckles. Weeks had passed since I sent Irileth off into Solitude to do her investigations and the heat of what had happened died down. But still, just because nothing was happening didn't mean something wasn't going to happen. We still had to decide and talk about the Thalmor trying to start shit in Skyrim and what our response was going to be. 

I began to walk, my steps echoing in the hallways with Idolaf and my other guards following behind me. 

"He's been properly settled in?" I asked

Idolaf nodded. "Yes, my king. The Queen and the Steward are speaking with him now." 

I had essentially taken the time to visit my son while they had filed in the Rep with what had happened. Originally, we were supposed to go together to see our little baby boy but the Representative arrived from Cyrodiil and we had to change our plans. They should be finishing up their report soon enough. 

Quickly, I found where they were meeting. The two guards at the door saluted me as Idolaf walked forward and opened it. I walked in, glancing at who were in the room. My wife and father did not rise, the former having no legs and the latter being heavily pregnant. The Imperial Representative did stand up. He looked like a Breton, clad in a rich brown robe, tall boots reaching up his knees and a brown belt wrapped around his waist. 

"High King Balgruuf," greeted the Breton.  

"Apologies. I was handling some business beforehand. What is your name, Lord Representative?" I asked, looking to the man. 

"I am Amaund, High King," the Breton introduced himself with a courtly bow. "I came as fast as soon as we had heard what had happened. I must express that the Empire is concerned at how the Thalmor has responded to this...zealotry." 

A part of me wishes that we had the internet. That would have made everything so much more faster. Schooling my features, I nodded at the man and made to sit in a chair next to my wife and Queen. "My Steward and Queen have filed you in on what has happened?" 

Amaund nodded in confirmation. 

"And what does the Empire deign of us?" I asked, curious on what the representative had to say. What he says is the Will of the Emperor. Now, I wished to see what old man Mede wants us to react. Clearing his throat, Amaund spoke up. 

"The Empire wishes for peace to continue between ourselves and the Aldmeri Dominion. Hence, fulfilling the obligations of the White Gold Concordat is a priority for Skyrim and the wider Empire as a whole," Amaund said, earning a internal frown from me. Are you fucking serious? Was the Emperor simply going to allow the Thalmor to run around and kidnap people? Forget the zealots, that would just set people off! 

"However..." Amaund then continued, cutting my train of thought. "The terms of the Concordat states that the worship of Talos was going to be banned by the Empire. As this was done by ordinary citizens disgruntled by the Treaty, the responsibility of policing them remains under our purview, not the Thalmor." 

All in all, the Thalmor can fuck off. 

"This is the Empire's final stance?" I asked, leaning in. 

Amaund nodded. "To ensure its proper implementation, I shall remain in Skyrim and offer my assistance. When the matter of the zealots are finished, I shall be returning to Cyrodiil and give my report back to the Emperor," 

I hummed, listening in. 

"And what support while we receive from the Empire for this venture?" Cecilia asked, eyeing the man carefully. 

"The Emperor thinks it inappropriate to send a Legion to handle a matter such as this nor does it justify a monetary grant. The Emperor however does not wish for Skyrim to handle this matter without support hence, my staying here. I act with the Emperor's authority and my orders were to ensure a smooth handling of this matter. Understand, High King, that the Empire stands firmly with you," Amaund declared. 

While a part of me supposed it should feel honoured that the Empire is standing with me, I could not help but feel a bit miffed. Still, my features were thankful regardless of my inner feelings. 

"I thank you for your support, Lord Amaund." I said with sincerity. The bright side here at least was that I was given a blank cheque to do as I wished. 

"The Empire values its relationship with Skyrim, High King. Your potatoes and beef helped alleviate starvation in the province when we were trying to restore farmland. Nordic soldiers helped maintained order while certain cities suffered lawlessness. Your service to the Empire is not forgotten," Amaund said smoothly, buttering me up. 

I resisted the urge to point out that the Nords smashed the Thalmor at the Battle of the Red Ring and our reward for it was the White Gold Concordat. 

"We are grateful that the Empire rewards service. The Empire is truly kind, and does not forget the blood sacrificed," I said, carefully and failing to hide the bitterness in my voice. 

I failed trying to hide it, it would seem. Amaund noticed it and his lips curled into a frown. I could feel Cecilia glaring daggers into my head, most likely out of failing to be diplomatic. Father's features were schooled. 

I cleared my throat. "Anyway. I am pleased at our meeting, Lord Amaund. You must be tired after travelling so long. Please, accept my hospitality and rest. We have finished discussions after all?" 

"Y-yes. Yes we have," Amaund harrumphed, "The road has been long and tiresome. Land travel takes its toll." 

With that, I bid him to leave. Standing up, he offered me a low bow before trailing away, leaving through the door. Silence descended in the room as we thought of what had just been discussed. 

"So...what do you three think?" I asked, turning to my advisors. 

Cecilia was the first to speak. "That man, Amaund. He is Amaund Motierre. He is not a simple man by any means. He is a landowner from the south, rich, and a member of the Elder Council. I have seen him a few times in functions though he does not know or remember me." 

"A member of the Elder Council?" Father spoke up, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose we must really do feel flattered that the Empire is treating this matter seriously that they send a member of the Elder Council here." 

"I concur. They really must be serious in this," I said, thinking back on Amaund. Motierre...that name was rather familiar. 

"Yes...and No," Cecilia answered, leaning back on her chair. "Amaund Motierre has ties to Prince Castor Mede, the Emperor's son. As he is the Representative here, it only means that the Prince's faction jockeyed to put him here." 

Ah, great. Cyrodiilic Factionalism. 

"How much should we be concerned? Is Skyrim going to be dragged into Cyrodiilic politics now?" I asked, feeling some concern at this revelation. 

At that, Cecilia looked a little bit...lost. I blinked in confusion. Slowly, Cecilia's hand rested on her rather pregnant womb. My gaze softened. 

"It...It depends on perspective, Balgruuf," Cecilia answered. "The Prince's Faction claims to represent the interests of the wider Empire and I personally believe him. However, the Prince is not so simple a man neither is his faction." 

I shared a glance with my father. 

Cecilia continued to narrate, her voice soft. "Prince Castor and the Emperor had been close, very close. But when the Great War ended, the Prince was suddenly ordered to return to Colovia and has been there since, unable to set foot into Imperial City for one reason or another,"

This was concerning.

"When they had their split, it also split certain loyalties in the capitol as well. When the Medes entered Cyrodiil during the Interregnum, they had filled important positions with Colovians. This arrangement was the status quo with the Emperor and his Heirs being their chief Patrons. With the seeming banishment of the Prince, their supporters are split on who to lend their support to. This has allowed a competing faction, headed by the Lord High Chancellor, to scatter them and replace them with their own," 

She looked up. "This means that the Prince is making moves with his placement of Lord Motierre here. This will also mean that the Lord High Chancellor will be making his move. The point here, my love, is that I believe things had just gotten a bit more complicated. Cyrodiil's eyes are on us." 

It was also then, a round of knocking came on the door. I turned to the doorway. "Open!" 

The door was swung open and inside came a guard. "My King, it is Lady Irileth. She has sent word that the leader of the zealots, the so-called prophet, is under arrest. She says that by the time this message has arrived, she will be half-way through to Whiterun. By all account, she will arrive tomorrow morning with the prisoner!"

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A/N: Again, this one took me awhile to finish. Hopefully, the next one shall be a bit faster.