“I can’t think of anything I’d less rather do,” Roggi said as he arranged his greatsword and put on his bracers, “than go to see the Jarl of Windhelm.”
Dardeh sighed in frustration. Yes, he knew that Roggi did not like the Jarl. He’d certainly heard all about it. He stuffed his feet into his boots and shook his head.
They’d taken a ferryboat from Solitude to Windhelm. “I’m not much of a sailor, Dardeh,” Roggi had told him; but Dardeh had just said “You don’t have to sail. You just have to sit. I know you can do that; I’ve seen you do it,” and had insisted. It was going to be faster even than taking a carriage because it was more direct, and it would be safer. Carriages got attacked, waylaid by the bandits Roggi hated so much. Dardeh wanted this task over with and didn’t want to risk either of them being injured on the way to do it. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to put himself in the position of suddenly finding that he had shredded more men with the scimitars he carried, or burned them to death with his Voice. So they’d made their way to Windhelm through calm and pleasant seas, and had taken the room Dardeh had grown so familiar with at Candlehearth Hall, Roggi insisting on tossing his bedroll on the floor while Dardeh used the bed.
“Come on, Roggi. You know this is important. I need backup, and you know I do. All you have to do is just stand there. It’ll be a lot easier for me to talk to him if you’re with me. I’m not good with Jarls. Not even Balgruuf, and he likes me. I’ve met Ulfric before, at Helgen, but he didn’t seem to like me much. And you can confirm what I’m telling him if for some reason he doesn’t believe me. You’re certain he’ll remember you, yes?”
Roggi frowned and looked away from Dardeh, fussing with a buckle on his armor. “Oh yes, he’ll remember me, don’t you worry about that. For one thing, I was one of his soldiers, you know that. But I, uh…” He trailed off.
What is this? Dardeh peered at Roggi, waiting.
Roggi sighed, and closed his eyes for a minute, frowning more. Finally, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. He opened his eyes and looked squarely at Dardeh.
“Well I guess I probably ought to tell you this. We’ve come this far down this road, and I do trust you. I worked more closely with him than just being one of his soldiers. I was one of his more, well, specialized people. I, uh, how to put it – gathered information for him. For a time.”
Dardeh couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Are you serious? You were what, a spy?”
“Eh… well… yeah, you could put it like that I suppose.” He gave Dardeh a sheepish grin. “Remember when I told you I was a good listener? Think about it, Dar. How often have you ever seen a person look twice at guys like us? Miners going for a drink after a hard day of it? Especially one who goes for a drink every single day, after work, a regular. I’m good at blending in, better than you might think. I would put myself to listen for information if I could, and, uh,” his eyes shifted away, “let myself into places that were locked if I couldn’t. Best way to know the enemy is to look at where he lives.”
“Well then,” Dardeh said. Holy Talos. I wasn’t expecting that. “I’m… not sure what to say, exactly. I knew there were people who do this kind of thing, obviously, but… you?”
“Surprised, I guess?”
Dardeh blew out a breath. “Just a bit. I suppose I should be impressed. Every time I think I know you, Roggi, there’s something else. Lock picking, eh? I’m no good with that. And forget being stealthy. I’ve tried that. Didn’t work out too well.”
Roggi laughed, a harsh burst of a laugh that had no humor in it at all. “Don’t worry. I am. If we ever need to do such a thing I can do it for us. Brynjolf can confirm that for you. I actually managed to impress him with it, which when you think about it is something.” He grinned briefly, but then frowned again.
“Yes, Ulfric will remember me. He has — a great many reasons to remember me.”
What is this? So you worked for him and you don’t like him but there’s something else. There’s something odd going on here.
Roggi shrugged. “I don’t want to see him, Dar. I don’t know how to say it except that I hate the man. But I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”
Well then. Being in a position where you can say you not only know the possible future High King but hate him is not something I would have expected, and it certainly puts a different light on our task at hand. I guess I shall… tread lightly.
They made their way to the Palace of the Kings. Dardeh nodded at the guards, then smiled at Roggi. “Ready?”
Roggi’s face was a mask. “No,” he said curtly. “I’m not. But let’s get this over with.” They pushed their way through the huge doors and into the palace.
Ulfric sat on his throne at the far end of the room, talking with his advisors. He looked up as the door opened and saw Dardeh and Roggi walking forward. He stopped the conversation cold and gestured toward his steward, standing on his left.
“Jorlief. I will have the room,” he said, never moving his gaze from them.
“Is that wise, my Jarl?”
“I will have the room, Jorlief. See to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Galmar, to Ulfric’s right, was not pleased. “Ulfric, you don’t know what he might be planning,” his raspy voice grated.
He? Galmar doesn’t know me, he must mean Roggi. Does he? He must.
Dardeh glanced at Roggi in surprise, then back at Ulfric. The two of them were staring at each other in a way he couldn’t put a finger on. He hadn’t expected this kind of reception. He didn’t know what it meant, but they certainly knew each other.
“Galmar. Do you really think he can do anything to me? No, it’s fine, my friend. Leave me.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Galmar.” Ulfric’s tone left no doubt that, while he hadn’t yet lost his patience, he was about to if Galmar didn’t obey.
“All right. But I won’t be far. And I’m leaving the door guards.”
“At the far end. Only those two. I want them far enough away that I can speak freely.”
Galmar and Jorlief were grumbling the entire time, but they and all but two of the guards removed themselves. Only Ulfric remained at the throne by the time Dardeh and Roggi reached the end of the room, and he hadn’t shifted his gaze away from them once from the time they’d entered the palace.
Ulfric smiled. At Roggi.
It made Dardeh’s skin crawl. It wasn’t a welcoming smile. He had no idea what kind of smile it was, exactly, but it immediately put him on edge. And suddenly he found himself not in charge of the encounter, as he’d assumed he would be, but almost a footnote to it.
What is going on?
“Roggi,” Ulfric said.
Roggi nodded. He stood with his arms crossed, guarded.
“So. You return to my court at last. It’s been a long time. Are you here to rejoin the cause?” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “I assure you, you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”
“No. You know better than that.”
Dardeh looked at him in surprise. No title, no honorific, not even a name for the man who would be the High King of Skyrim. And yes, clearly Ulfric knew him and remembered him.
As strong as Roggi’s words were, beside him Roggi was trembling. Rage? Fear? What was it?
“Do I, indeed?” Ulfric asked, smiling. “And who is this?” he added, inclining his head toward Dardeh without looking away from Roggi.
Gods damn it, Ulfric, address me if you’re going to refer to me.
“My name is Dardeh, Jarl Ulfric. From just outside Markarth. You met me in Helgen.”
Ulfric turned his gaze to meet Dardeh’s, and smiled his unsettling smile once more. He is a handsome man, even as weather-beaten as he is, Dardeh thought, staring at him. But he looks just as cold and hard as he did in that cart heading to Helgen.
“The Dragonborn,” Roggi added. Ulfric turned back to Roggi and stared.
Oh gods, Roggi, why bring that into it? Dardeh sighed.
“Oh, I see,” Ulfric said, peering once more at Dardeh.
I feel like I’m being sized up for sale, like a horse or goat. Gods.
“I heard the Greybeards issue a summons not long out of Helgen,” Ulfric said. “So that was you, was it? Interesting.”
Ulfric stood and paced back and forth in front of them, running his eyes first up and down Roggi, then back to Dardeh. Dardeh had no idea what’s going on but he didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like Roggi’s reaction; he was radiating tension. Ulfric turned to Dardeh, peered at him for several moments.
“Ah. Yes, now I remember. You were one of the prisoners. You left with Ralof. What business does a Redguard have with our fight for Skyrim’s freedom?”
Dardeh had never liked the looks of the man and this statement, the kind of assumption that had made him angry most of his life, made his temperature rise. “I’m a Nord. Half-Nord by birth, Nord by upbringing. I’ve lived in Skyrim my whole life. I’m as much a Nord as any of you. And I’m tired of seeing Nord blood spilt by Nord swords,” he added, thinking once more of the bloody encounters he’d seen between patrolling Stormcloaks and Imperials.
“Indeed. You’ll forgive me, but you don’t look much like a Nord. Regardless, you have the power of the Voice. You could be a great asset to our efforts to return Skyrim to her people.”
“He’s the gods-damned Dragonborn, Ulfric. Show a little respect,” Roggi bristled. “I’ve seen him toss a man through the air like a ragdoll. Turn a saber cat to a block of ice. With his voice. I’ve never seen you do that. I thought it was just a tale. I’ve seen the Dragonborn do it first-hand.”
Ulfric turned to look at Roggi, gave him another lingering scan from top to bottom and back again. “I assure you that I have the Voice. I studied with the Greybeards for years. I forget, sometimes, that I never had the proper opportunity to show you. I could arrange it.” He gave Roggi another of the slight smiles that made Dardeh’s skin crawl. “But enough about that. You’ve aged well, Roggi.”
Roggi’s arm twitched, as if he wanted to reach for a weapon. Dardeh reached out to restrain him. What was this? Roggi had said Ulfric would recognize him, and that was clearly the case; but this was strange. He caught Roggi’s eye and tried to say “no, Roggi. Calm down,” but Roggi was angry and something else that Dardeh couldn’t decipher. He shook his head.
“I’m here with the Dragonborn, Ulfric. Pay attention to his message and stop worrying about me. It’s important. For all of us.”
Ulfric looked at Dardeh again, as if searching for something. It was a long, thoughtful look that slowly turned to a knowing sneer; and then Ulfric laughed.
He laughed. Not a laugh of amusement, but a sarcastic, dry, humorless laugh. He lowered himself onto his throne.
“I see how it is, now,” he chuckled, grinning at Roggi. “Very nice. Very nice indeed. You forget that I know you, Roggi. You’re a clever man. Marrying the nice, safe Nord girl after all and then, after she’s gone…”
“You’d do well to hold your tongue,” Roggi growled.
Dardeh stared between the two of them in amazement.
He sees how it is? Well, he sees part of it anyway. He just looked at me and sized up who I am and what I feel about Roggi in the space of two breaths. I can tell. There’s some sort of game happening here, and I don’t understand it. Roggi is facing down a Jarl, potentially the High King, and showing no respect for his position, at all. And Ulfric is … playing with him. Torturing him with something that I don’t know about.
Ulfric was staring at Roggi, grinning, and Roggi was staring back, defiant, stony-faced. I need to interrupt this, Dardeh thought, before it gets out of hand.
“Jarl Ulfric, I’m here to ask that you …”
Ulfric held up his hand to interrupt Dardeh, then rose from his throne. He descended the stairs and approached Roggi, then walked around the two of them in a slow circle. “The Dragonborn, Roggi,” he chuckled. “I’m impressed. I knew you were an ambitious man but I never would have expected to see you reach so high,” he said quietly. “But enough of that. It’s good to see you, regardless. Truthfully, I thought we’d seen the last of you after that unfortunate incident with the bandits. I heard that you rather… disappeared after that.”
Roggi’s eyes opened wide for a moment; then he turned red. The veins on his temples stood out. “Was that your doing, you bastard?”
Ulfric laughed. “Mine? Truly? Oh no. Surely you know I would never have employed such… crude methods. I simply had people watching you. I wanted to know where the girl was. Our little arrangement was fine as far as it went but…”
Roggi roared, and reached for the sword on his back.
“FUS!”
Ulfric’s Voice erupted, deep, huge, and powerful. Roggi was thrown backwards, striking Ulfric’s feasting table hard. He cried out and fell to the floor, writhing.
Dardeh acted out of reflex, not thinking about who it was he was facing.
“FUS – RO DAH!”
Unrelenting Force, at full strength, with the extra power Dardeh had learned from Hermaeus Mora’s Black Book. Dardeh’s thunderous roar filled the keep. It moved the banners hug on the walls, overturned baskets and goblets and anything that wasn’t firmly affixed.
Ulfric flew back, end over end, past the throne and into the doorway of the room beside it, landing beside the map table that might have caused him great injury if he had struck it. His guards erupted from all the doors and alcoves that Galmar had supposedly cleared and rushed Dardeh, pinning his arms. Dardeh didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle, didn’t want to and didn’t think it would likely matter how many men were holding him if he wanted to break free. Several of them ran to Ulfric and helped him to his feet. He was unharmed, at least externally, the many layers of armor and fur having cushioned his fall; but Dardeh was certain he would be sore for days at the very least.
“Permission to cut his throat, my Jarl,” one of the guards holding Dardeh’s arms said.
Ulfric dusted himself off and shook his head. “Stand down,” he said, waving them off. “I’m fine. We’re all fine here.”
“But my Jarl, he…”
“I said,” Ulfric repeated, staring at the man, his words carrying the heavy weight of authority and power, “Stand. Down. I’ll have no bloodshed here today.”
Damn, Dardeh thought. The man looked like a great predator with his blonde mane, flashing eyes and tight, controlled movements; and his voice commanded obedience. When he was young he must have been a fearsome man, the Bear of Markarth, Shouting down the enemies from that city’s walls, or at least that was how the legend went. No, that wasn’t right; he was still a fearsome man.
The guards hesitated for a moment, then dropped their hands and set Dardeh free. The man who had spoken paused, then nodded. “Very well, my Jarl. Call us if he tries anything else. We’ll be near.”
“Return to your posts,” Ulfric said. “I can handle this situation myself. Alone. Go.”
Slowly, the guards filtered out of the audience chamber, and Ulfric returned to his throne. Dardeh whirled and ran to Roggi, who was just regaining his footing, grimacing as he did so.
“Are you all right?” He reached out for Roggi’s arm, only to have his touch shaken off.
“Mmm. I’m fine,” Roggi grumbled, shifting his shoulders and wincing. “He knocked the wind out of me, that’s all.”
Ulfric smirked. “So now you’ve heard me Shout, Roggi. I hope you’re pleased.”
Right, Dardeh thought, watching the stiff way Roggi approached the throne again. Damn it. He’s hurt. He keeps getting hurt when he’s with me. I cannot have that. Damn Ulfric. He could have simply drawn his sword, called for his guards. He felt his fire rising and fought to keep his temper. It would help nothing at all to strike out at Ulfric again, but every part of Dardeh wanted to hurt him. He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach for his own swords.
Ulfric waved him forward. “So, Dardeh, it seems that you are indeed Dragonborn. You must be. Very strong in the Voice, and you are not old enough to have studied with Master Arngeir for decades. I’m impressed. What can I do to convince you to join us?”
“Nothing,” Dardeh said, barely able to force the word out from between clenched jaws.
Great Talos. I wasn’t willing to join you in Helgen and I wouldn’t join you now if Mehrunes Dagon himself had his razor at my throat.
“I’m not here to help kill my brothers, or even the men from Cyrodiil. I’m here with an offer from the Greybeards, an offer to host a parley between you and General Tullius, on the neutral ground of High Hrothgar, that we might bring all this to a peaceful resolution.”
Big words. Ma would be proud.
Ulfric leaned back in his chair and laughed, a loud, hearty laugh. He looked at Roggi again and chuckled. He shook his head, tsk’d, and smiled. “I’m surprised at you, Roggi. Why a man so strong, but who is too weak to choose a side?”
Roggi stared at the floor, gritting his teeth. His hands clenched and unclenched. He took a deep breath and then spoke, quietly.
“Why does Galmar follow you, Ulfric?” He raised his eyes, slowly, and stared unblinking at Ulfric. “Why, exactly? I’ve heard him say it before often enough. He would follow you to the depths of Oblivion. Is there more to it than I know?”
Ulfric flushed, frowned, and rose to stand before his throne.
“How dare you.”
Roggi barked a short laugh.
“You know perfectly well how I dare.” He smirked. “But I don’t honestly think there is another reason. Galmar is a warrior. So are you; a great one. Galmar is an honorable man and he believes that you are one as well.”
He turned to give Dardeh a long look, then smiled – a grim smile — and turned back to Ulfric.
“As to me? I would follow that man to the depths of Oblivion. The Dragonborn. Because he is an honorable man. It takes real strength to strive for peace when it would be so much easier to choose one side and use his great power to destroy the other. He asks nothing of me. And so, I follow him, and I help him when I am able. There is nothing more than that, and that is all that any man should ask.”
Then he turned and walked away, stiffly, toward the doors of the keep.
Thank you, Roggi, Dardeh thought. He turned back to Ulfric, watching the great man’s gaze following Roggi, reflecting something back to Dardeh that he did not understand, and he fought to contain the rage he had felt ever since he watched Roggi falling to the floor. Remember the dragon, Ulfric, he thought. Remember those flames. I have them at the ready. Maybe Ulfric is the “other” that my father wants me to kill. I certainly feel like doing so.
He spoke, calmly and quietly, controlling as best he could the almost undeniable urge to hurt him, trying to keep the threat from his profoundly deep tones, but knowing that he couldn’t possibly keep it from his eyes.
“Jarl Ulfric, I do not pretend to understand the least bit of what just happened here. But hear me now. High King or not, if you should ever so much as ruffle a hair on that man’s head again I will see you dead on the floor in front of me, and I will mount your head on my wall along with those of any guards who try to stop me.”
I don’t have enough wall space for all the heads.
Ulfric, to his credit, said nothing.
I’m stronger than he is and he knows it. I’m younger, and stronger, and I’m Dragonborn and he is not. If not for all the guards I could kill him where he sits and he’d never have a chance to act. He probably can smell it on me, the scent of all the men and women I’ve killed, the part of me that wanted to rip out Miraak’s throat for hurting Roggi. And he knows that I’m serious about him leaving Roggi alone.
“I’ll return to you in the morning for your answer. I think you should consider it. For the sake of all your ‘sons and daughters of Skyrim,’ if not for yourself.” He looked Ulfric in the eye and smirked. “Roggi has too high an opinion of me, I fear. I’m not nearly as honorable as he thinks I am. If you can’t bring yourself to do the right thing I’ll be more than happy to choose a side and force the issue. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t enjoy the outcome.”
Ulfric’s face was like a stone mask. He nodded, curtly. “Redguard,” he said. It was clearly a dismissal.
Well that pretty much settles it, Dardeh thought as he strode out of Ulfric’s keep and headed to Candlehearth Hall to find Roggi. I came in here willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I gave you every opportunity, you condescending prick. Yes, I’m Redguard, part of me, and I kill my enemies.
I’ll give you a chance to go to High Hrothgar, all right, but you’ve made yourself an enemy. Be careful.