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Windhelm

The air was thick with snow.

Ulfric sat seated by his window in the Palace of Kings, his eyes glazed over his city. Windhelm was waking up, the light of cooking fires and its smoke rising as well as the distinct smell of bread being carried by the wind. The morning was the time Ulfric enjoyed the most. It was peaceful, serene, and he could finally be alone in his thoughts and not be bothered by rows of people wanting something from him. The gentle blowing of the wind, the crowing of morning roosters.

He was at peace.

Ruling Windhelm after the death of his father was a smooth affair. Hoag Stormcloak was an able administrator and he bequeathed Ulfric a decent treasury, able ministers, and a strong army. Normally at this point, such a thing would have been used by Nords of the past to go and conquer, and make an Empire for their own. Ulfric found it funny in a sense. Yes, it would have allowed for greater glory and conquest but it also split Skyrim into multiple bloody wars against itself.

And speaking of splitting Skyrim...

He stood up from his chair and and slipped into his bathing robes. A bath had been drawn for him by a servant and he made sure to freshen himself up before he would start his day. He wouldn't want to show in Court looking like a shipwrecked sailor. Ulfric was sure that in far Cyrodiil, the image of the Nord was a hulking barbarian who fought with an axe and smelt like a unwashed child. That was far from the truth and he was sure that it was the ancient Nords who introduced hygiene to their cousins in the old days. Now washed and clothed in his long dark fur coat over silver mail, he went out of chambers to be greeted by his housecarl, Galmar. 

"My lord," Galmar greeted him, clad in his leather armor with that snarling bear pelt over his head. "The dele-"

''I have only just risen," Ulfric darkened. "The delegate will wait. I wish to hear their mewling on a full stomach. Now come," 

Galmar simply dipped his head and followed after Ulfric who was making his way to the Main Chamber. As he did, Ulfric kept on mumbling under his breath. "If he thinks he can dictate what he wishes to me in my own home, I will kick them out into the street myself,"

"Our people are passionate, my lord. And nothing gets them more passionate than the question of traditions," said Galmar. 

"I will deal with their passions when I have eaten, and no more," said Ulfric, his voice rough and grumpy. 

"Yes, my Jarl," Galmar dipped his head as both men appeared in the Main Hall. It was here where all those who lived in the Palace of Kings had their meals in a show of unity. While he could have had his in his own room, he saw no reason to be away from his fellow Nords. And just like the rest, he ate what they all ate. Leftovers from the previous night were served in a hot stew and enjoyed with bread and fruits. Galmar joined him as well those who were starting their day. The stew was hot and to the hungry Ulfric, its rich scent was the punch he needed to wake up. The bread was also freshly baked and made in the Breton style, that is baked until it was golden brown and crunchy to the touch. The crunchier it was, the better the bread was. This, he had downed with a watered down ale. 

Now fed and sufficiently less grumpy, Ulfric took his seat on his throne. It was still quite early in the morning and by his own reckoning, the rest of the city was still trying to wake up too. But he'd rather get this over with as soon as he could. The delegates had already spent two days annoying him and eating from his larders. 

"Where is Jorleif? Where is my Steward?" Ulfric asked aloud. Galmar had eaten with him and now took his place at his right hand side. Such was his honor as both Ulfric's friend and Housecarl. 

"Here, my Jarl. Apologies, my Jarl. The wife needed help at home," Jorleif announced as he appeared, bright red tunic and fur hat on his head. Fresh snow was on his clothes and his boots were dirty from travel.

At his side, Galmar snickered. "That harridan woman of yours has you on a tight leash, Steward." 

"She has a fiery temper yes, but she is sweet on me and patient. No good man cannot ask for a finer wife," Jorleif replied, not entirely embarrassed at the dynamic he and his wife had. Ulfric had an idea of what was going on but he would rather not dwell how his Steward handled his domestic life. 

"The Steward's preferences aside, I am glad you are here now, Jorleif," Ulfric said, nodding at the man. Jorleif had the decency to dip his head. 

"I am only a humble citizen, my Jarl. I serve at your leisure," the man replied. To the shock of the city's nobility, Ulfric had appointed a freedman to serve at his side. Officially, Ulfric had stated the need for the commoners to have a voice at his court. Unofficially, Ulfric had grown tired of their scheming and Jorleif's pleasant nature and humility appealed to him. 

"You have eaten?" Ulfric asked his Steward. 

Jorleif nodded. "Aye, my Jarl. I ate at home. I have also bought one of those wonderful Hammerfell wraps for lunch with me." 

Ulfric raised an eyebrow. "You packed for lunch? Jorleif, you work here. You have a right to eat at my table." 

The steward chuckled nervously. "Ah, old habits die hard. I will be sure to have someone send my lunch home for my wife to enjoy instead." 

Ulfric shook his head. "You already brought it, Jorleif. You are free to enjoy it as you wish." The Jarl of Windhelm tilted his head. He hadn't tried those wraps that was getting the kingdom into a frenzy. Were they really that good? He would have to try some next time he was visiting his people. 

"And another thing, my Jarl," Jorleif interjected, his face serious. Galmar's eyes narrowed and Ulfric leaned in. 

"What is it?" Ulfric asked. 

"I passed by the...Museum of Tiber Septim on my way here to the Palace. It is yet morning and already, it was receiving lots of visitors. I went inside briefly to take a look and the caretakers were jubilantly praising what had happened in Solitude," Jorleif reported.  

Ulfric darkened.

By order of the High King, the places wherein the worship of Talos had been done before were converted instead to celebrate the man, not the god that arose. Ulfric had to admit it was a wise political move that satisfied the status quo. Skyrim made a show of loyalty to the Empire, the Empire could accurately claim it was following the terms of the Concordat and the faithful could mask their worship of Talos as admiration. Admittedly, the Thalmor weren't exactly satisfied with that but no one really cared what they thought. What were they going to do, file a complaint to the Nords revering a great man such as Tiber Septim? 

The problems of simply satisfying the status quo was that people weren't totally going to be satisfied.

Such as those zealots that made a great show in Solitude. And now, a thorn in his side.

"Thank you for your report, Jorleif. I will keep that in mind. And now that we are all gathered...call for the delegate. Let's get this damn thing sorted," Ulfric said, sitting up on his throne. Not a second later, a Nord in rich robes appeared before Ulfric, the fiery star of Dawnstar denoting his allegiance. Ulfric watched him carefully as he saluted Ulfric. As always in their custom, Nords do not bow. 

"Jarl Ulfric," the Dawnstar man greeted him. His voice was deep and accented, a signature to their kin. 

"Ragnar," Ulfric greeted back, his voice not entirely pleased. 

"Have you thought of Jarl Skald's petition?" Ragnar then asked, cutting to the chase. Ulfric's lips threatened to thin. 

News of what had happened in Solitude had reached all over Skyrim now, brought on the wind by merchants and travellers. And now, a few days ago, a longship arrived at his port with a request for trading deals. But in reality, it was an appeal for help. 

"Windhelm has always been the city that stood for Nordic tradition, my Jarl. And your family had always been the one to defend our people's culture," Ragnar tried again, reminding Ulfirc of the same proposal he had approached him with. He then continued. "The Preacher now rotting in the High King's dungeons is no common criminal. He is a true Nord that was brave enough to speak out on the unjustifiable restriction the Empire has saddled us with. We fought hard to defend the Empire from the Thalmor and as a reward, the Emperor stripped us of our right to worship Talos. Again, I ask of you, my Jarl, to join with my master in petitioning the High King to release the preacher," 

"And I will remind you again, Ragnar, that if I give to you my assent on this then the Aldmeri Dominion can rightfully claim that there is a strong movement in Skyrim to restore Talos worship. It will bring down the Elves not just on us but on the Empire as well," Ulfric replied, his expression terse. Ulfric did not say all this out of true loyalty to the Empire and to the Emperor. Much like the rest of his fellow Nords, he too was angry at the banning of Talos worship and he would have done anything to get it reversed, for honor's sake and for the sake of his people. But as the High King had pointed out to him before and from the reports of his troops who returned after a stint in protecting Bruma and other cities, the Empire was not ready for conflict. 

He already had a good idea of what was going to happen if he went along with Skald's idiocy. The Thalmor Embassy would scream a fit that Skyrim was trying to restore movement or simply make noise that Talos worship wasn't wholly stamped out. Perhaps this was their goal of raising unrest in the Empire, Ulfric did not know. What he knew was that people would get upset and make a tense situation even more difficult. 

It was hard to grasp and his very soul screamed at him to do something to return Talos worship. But they were not ready, not yet. 

"My Jarl, Jarl Leila and Jarl Dengeir have already given their assent to Jarl Skald. They will support him in his petition. Falkreath, Riften, and Dawnstar. If you support us, you will add in Eastmarch to our cause. The High King will only have Markarth, Solitude, Winterhold, and Hjaalmarch to stand at his side," Ragnar attempted again. "We will not be alone in this!" 

Ulfric darkened again. Attempting to secure his help with a fait accompli will not work on him. He rose now, his voice slowly rising. "And once again, this will result in the same thing. The whole of Skyrim could wish for it but it will still accomplish the same! The Elves will raise a fit and demand the Empire to punish us! The Empire will have no choice but to refuse. War will happen and this time, weakened Cyrodiil will not be strong enough to face the Dominion!" 

Ragnar wilted under Ulfric's gaze but nevertheless pressed on. "And what about tradition? We have this opportunity raised by that preacher rotting in the High King's dungeon to address what the Empire took from us and you will let it pass?" 

It was at this point Jorleif spoke. "There is no benefit for Windhelm to join in this, my Lord Ragnar. As the Jarl himself said, the Elves will complain and the Empire will refuse us regardless. This is folly, my lord," 

It was then, Ragnar turned to Jorleif and sneered. "I did not ask your opinion, 'Steward'. Your betters are speaking, be silent." 

Galmar's eyes widened. Ulfric stood motionless as Jorleif became red-faced and dipped his head. Satisfied, Ragnar turned to Ulfric. "Now, as I was sayi-" 

"Get out," Ulfric said simply. Galmar's recovered from his shock and his gauntleted hand fell on the axe on his belt. 

Ragnar blinked. "My Jarl? What do you-" 

"Jorleif is my Steward. He is my appointment. My decision. This morning, you have irritated me by asking for my presence. And now, you insult my Steward. My choice in my own Palace. Get out," Ulfric snarled, his veins bulging in his forehead. "Return to your Master and tell him that the Palace of the Kings is closed to you and him."

"But I-" Ragnar attempted again but Galmar simply stood forward, his axe flashing. 

"Out. Before I do it myself," Ulfric seethed. 

For a moment, Ragnar stood silent. He then took a step back and dipped his head. Before he left, he gave Ulfric a level stare. "You lead a great city, my Jarl, but Jarl Skald is the senior most Jarl now after Jarl Heorot of Whiterun stepped down. He holds great respect and will rise even more with his defense of our traditions. You will regret this, my lord," 

And with that, he turned on his heels. Ulfric seethed as he stood before sitting down on his throne. Galmar quietly sheathed his axe on his belt. The Jarl of Windhelm turned his gaze to Jorleif. "Are you alright, Steward?" 

"I...yes, my Jarl," Jorleif stammered. "W-why did you do that, Jarl Ulfric? That will only aggravate Jarl Skald against you for kicking his envoy out over me of all people!" 

Ulfric gave him a level stare. "No one comes into my Palace and insults my kinsmen. You are the Steward of Windhelm, an appointment I had decided on. When he did that to you, he wasn't just challenging you but also me."

Jorleif was stunned. Shaking, he saluted the Jarl. "I will remember this, My Jarl," he vowed. Galmar's eye were bright with approval but also worry. 

"I do not criticize your choice, my Jarl, but there will be consequences for this," Galmar warned him. Ulfric gripped the stone of his throne. 

"Fortunate then that this was all done in private. If it was held during Court then the backlash would be greater. Skald's opinion will be soured of me but he will not totally hate me," Ulfric explained. Indeed, a tongue lashing in a full session of Court in front of all the Thanes and notaries of WIndhelm would be greater.

"Knowing Skald, he will hate me regardless. I disliked him at the Moot, I dislike him now," Ulfric shook his head. He then turned to Jorleif. "Jorleif. Draft a letter to the High King. Warn him that Skald is trying to make moves." 

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A/N: I dunno how faithfully I've been writing Ulfric but I hoped I nailed the guy.