{"id":656,"date":"2021-03-29T17:24:34","date_gmt":"2021-03-29T23:24:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/baakay.com\/Snow\/?page_id=656"},"modified":"2022-03-17T09:26:57","modified_gmt":"2022-03-17T15:26:57","slug":"chapter-1","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/baakay.com\/Snow\/volume-1\/part-ii-starlight\/chapter-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 1 – Harald"},"content":{"rendered":"
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 <\/p>\n

So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out. There\u2019s so much left to know – and I\u2019m on the road to find out. \u2013 Cat Stevens<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The young man sat on his bed, frowning. It felt to him as though it was high time to leave, to go west.<\/p>\n

His bed was in a cozy cabin with a sleeping loft, on the hillside overlooking the Windhelm Bridge and the stables. It had a sauna outside in the back, and a full smithy at which he practiced his skills regularly. He had learned the basics from his father\u2019s smith; but the man was always very busy with his own work, and the boy didn\u2019t like to take advantage of his station in life for more training.<\/p>\n

It was a good thing to have his own home, though he felt a bit embarrassed to have such a relatively opulent space all to himself when there were Dunmer living under the edge of open boards above the Grey Quarter, and Argonians crammed into a single, drafty warehouse space down at the water\u2019s edge. He\u2019d never quite understood his father\u2019s reasoning in keeping the Argonians confined to the docks the way they were.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

He\u2019d never understood his father\u2019s reasoning about a whole lot of things, truth be told; and that had always nagged at him like a pebble in a boot. Maybe it was because he was just fifteen but his father was seventy winters old. That bothered him, too. It was a vast gap in age that left the two of them with almost nothing in common aside from their name, and their shared ability to use the Voice.<\/p>\n

The entire situation with his parents bothered him. His mother was young, relatively speaking. It didn\u2019t seem right to him that she should have ended up married to such an old man. His father was gruff, and stern, and demanded obedience; but if the stories were to be believed he was also an accomplished warrior, though the young man had never seen him in battle.<\/p>\n

All I know for certain is that he\u2019s a grumpy old man and he\u2019s always too busy for me. It\u2019s probably why he bought me this house. Get me out from underfoot.<\/em><\/p>\n

She must have had her reasons. I\u2019d hate to think she married him just because of his status.<\/em><\/p>\n

There was no denying that his father knew a lot more about the world than he did himself, though. The old man had simply been around for so much longer, and lived through so many important events. The young man had learned about those events, of course. It had always felt a little odd to hear his father\u2019s name in the middle of his history lessons, and have other people turn to stare at him. And of course they would stare. He looked like a blonder, much younger copy of his father. It was a trial, sometimes. His name was Harald Stormcloak, and his father, Ulfric, had been the High King of Skyrim for the past fifteen years. When the King was mentioned, Harald was dismissed as nothing more than an extension of his father.<\/p>\n

That was exactly why Harald wanted to go west to Markarth. In spite of all the stories, in spite of the constant rumblings of discontent about how his father was only out to get more power for himself and didn\u2019t care who he stepped over to get it, Harald had grown up with the man and believed him to be concerned, above all, with the safety and continued freedom of the people under his rule. There were still plenty of people there who remembered when the \u201cBear of Markarth\u201d had been in their city; and he wanted to hear their recollections first-hand, so that he could come to his own conclusions. Was his father a hero, as some had said? Or was he really the cruel, grasping tyrant others claimed he was?<\/p>\n

Harald had another reason for wanting to go to Markarth, as well. He had always been fascinated by the Dwemer architecture dotting the landscape. He\u2019d never been able to get into any of the ruins, for one reason or another. If they weren\u2019t overrun by creatures, they were full of bandits. Those had been reasons enough for a young boy to keep clear. But he knew Markarth was built in and on the upper reaches of an old Dwemer city. It was probably the most accessible ruin he could visit. He wanted to see it for himself, instead of just relying on his father\u2019s reminiscences and the specious claims of people he wasn\u2019t sure had ever been there.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

He\u2019d gone in to Windhelm earlier that day, thinking that he might discuss his idea with his father. It would be good to have the old man\u2019s blessing, though he actually expected to get no more than a grunt or two of acquiescence. His mother would object, and try to keep him at home, and would tell him that he was too young; but he was as tall as Ulfric now, with a full \u2013 if recent \u2013 blonde beard of his own, and he knew he was old enough to travel. He didn\u2019t blame her for being protective, but it was time for him to be his own man.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll avoid Mother, he had thought. I just want to get Father\u2019s blessing.<\/p>\n

As usual, the door guards had snapped to attention as he approached, and he\u2019d only barely been able to contain himself long enough to get past them before rolling his eyes.<\/p>\n

The sharp voices carrying down from the end of the room had stopped him short. He\u2019d ducked into the recess that led to the barracks and down to what people playfully called \u201cthe Inquisitor\u2019s office,\u201d and had eavesdropped as quietly as possible.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

They\u2019re arguing again. Will they ever stop fighting? <\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like it, Ulfric. It\u2019s still a mess down there. People are living in spots that aren\u2019t even closed off to the elements, and there are rats<\/em>. Rats! Do you know how lucky we are that we haven\u2019t had some kind of outbreak of disease?\u201d<\/p>\n

You\u2019ve told him that a million times, Mother.<\/em><\/p>\n

He peeked around the corner and saw her gesturing at his father, who as usual sat on the throne of the Palace of the Kings, frowning sullenly in her direction. Harald sighed.<\/p>\n

Queen Frina was a source of great pride to Harald. She was beautiful, and charismatic, and open-minded \u2013 though rumor had it she\u2019d not always been that way. She had been a greatly-admired warrior, during the conflict that put her husband on the throne. The soldiers still called her \u201cStormblade\u201d to this day. She was the main reason Skyrim\u2019s towns and villages all had gates and walls and trees, and new roofs on their buildings, and lots of trade. They hadn\u2019t, before the war. That\u2019s what Harald had learned from his extended, if unofficial, family as he grew up. Roggi Knot-Beard, in particular, spent a lot of time here in Windhelm, talking to Harald\u2019s father, and had often shared stories about how he happened to know the Queen, and all the work she\u2019d done on Skyrim\u2019s behalf after the war was over. But she\u2019d changed since then.<\/p>\n

Harald wasn\u2019t an only child by plan. He should have had a younger brother; but the child who would have been named Hoag had been stillborn, and Harald had grown up alone, watching his mother become more and more bitter as the years had gone by. That was why she was so protective. It was also why he\u2019d spent more time over the years with his unofficial cousins, Chip and Qaralana, either in Riften or out by the lake in Falkreath, than he had with his parents. His father was High King, and his mother was Queen; and they were far too busy to spend much time playing with a young boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can do nothing about the rats, wife,\u201d came Ulfric\u2019s deep, resonant reply. \u201cPerhaps if we didn\u2019t have<\/em> the Dunmer living in places that aren\u2019t actually homes and leaving food about for the rats to eat, we wouldn\u2019t have this problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Harald thought that his father sounded more resigned than angry. This argument had happened before. Somehow, though, they kept coming around to it again, no matter what else changed around them.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd where would<\/em> you have them live? Honestly. People across all of Tamriel think of you as a greedy, self-serving bigot. Is it any wonder you have such a reputation? People think you treat the Dunmer no better than slaves!\u201d Frina sounded exasperated.<\/p>\n

There was a moment of silence before Ulfric responded. That silence made Harald wince.<\/p>\n

Father\u2019s getting angry. This won\u2019t be good.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what of <\/em>the Dunmer, after all?\u201d Ulfric\u2019s tone was sharp, and slightly louder than it had been. He was<\/em> angry, and frustrated, and his words reinforced that. \u201cWere they no better than slavers themselves, subjugating great numbers of Argonians for their own use? Shall I somehow reward <\/em>their descendants as if they were free of the taint of their ancestors\u2019 actions? No! My father graciously gave them a place to shelter, here in Skyrim, and they\u2019ve had decades to make themselves homes. Is that not enough?\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice had risen as he spoke, until it filled the huge spaces of the great hall. He paused for a moment, and Harald dared a look at him. Ulfric\u2019s face was red; and Frina, though it was obvious that she had more to say, wisely held herself back.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt will take many generations to erase the memories, Frina. The best I can do as High King is to try to begin the process of healing. In the meantime we have greater problems on our doorstep than a few disgruntled Dunmer and some rats<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Frina snorted. \u201cLike the Argonians, Ulfric? A person would think they<\/em> were the enemy! They\u2019re on our doorstep because you won\u2019t let them in at all! Not even the ones who conveniently work for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey work for the East Empire Company.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald cringed. Ulfric had said that very quietly, in a way that told him the old man was just shy of exploding. He knew enough to stay clear of the King when he was using that tone of voice. His mother, however, did not. Or perhaps she simply chose to ignore the subtle warning. She did that frequently, pushing the High King as hard as she could push.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo your advantage. Yours and Brynjolf\u2019s. And you still treat them like slaves.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald had expected Ulfric to erupt at that. Instead, he simply heaved a long-suffering sigh.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is safer for them out there. Have you ever listened to the way some of our citizens talk about them? They barely tolerate the Dunmer living in the Grey Quarter. And the Argonians still remember that they were once the Dunmer\u2019s slaves. No. If they come inside, it will all be for naught, all the work we\u2019ve done to restore Skyrim. There will be bloodshed. Some day, perhaps. But not now, Frina. I can\u2019t afford it, and I can\u2019t allow it. They\u2019re free to come and go as they wish, but not inside the city walls.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cThen maybe you are just what people say you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was an agonizing moment of silence before Ulfric\u2019s quiet but icy response came.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should return to your projects, wife. I have business to deal with.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald dared one last look down the hall. His mother gave his father a withering glare, turned on her heel without speaking, and strode off to the left. He presumed she was returning to their quarters. For a moment it occurred to him to wonder whether they still shared the same bedchamber, or whether she had taken over one of the many other rooms in the castle. It didn\u2019t matter, at that particular instant. He knew this was not the time to ask his father for favors or advice.<\/p>\n

Instead, he\u2019d quietly slipped back out through the palace doors and back to his cabin.<\/p>\n

He had taken some time to hike along the banks of the estuary north of where the Yorgrim and the great White Rivers combined, to prepare himself spiritually. He hoped for some insight – or guidance to make the decision to leave, or not. His destination was a shrine, nestled in the remnants of what might have once been a watchtower or a lighthouse, on a tiny island near the estuary\u2019s mouth. It seemed an appropriate spot for a shrine to Shor, near the place the Atmorans had chosen to land when they returned to Skyrim in the Merethic Era. Harald had himself been named after the first King of the Nords, the thirteenth ruler in the line of Ysgramor himself. Partly because of that, he had a strong interest in ancient times, and ancient things.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Talos \u2013 the god so many of his fellow Nords revered, and the worship of whom had caused so much strife \u2013 hadn\u2019t come to power as Emperor Tiber Septim until the Second Era. His father and mother worshipped Talos, fervently. The country had nearly been destroyed, in part because of that belief. Harald found it simpler, and somehow more symbolic of his own existence, to worship the Dead God, the original god of his people: Shor. So he\u2019d taken this moment, on this morning, to kneel before Shor\u2019s shrine and think about everything he knew of his own family. He still hadn\u2019t been sure of himself by the time he\u2019d made it back home.<\/p>\n

He was still thinking about his family now, as he sat on his bed trying to come to a decision. He was the High King\u2019s heir apparent, the prince, and nobody would let him forget about it. People also made it a point to whisper about his father when Harald was near \u2013 loudly \u2013 pretending they didn\u2019t realize he could hear them. It bothered him.<\/p>\n

He remembered the day he\u2019d talked about his questions with Dardeh, one of the men he considered an uncle in all ways but blood. Dardeh had grown up just outside Markarth, and had been a toddler when the Forsworn uprising had happened in 4E 174. He didn\u2019t remember it directly; but he\u2019d grown up hearing of it, almost daily.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Dardeh had told him as the two of them sat sweating in Mammoth Manor\u2019s sauna. \u201cThe Legion got recalled to fight the Dominion, down in Cyrodiil, and the Reachmen took over. Some time that next year the Jarl asked your Da to help get the Reachmen out of Markarth, and he did. He brought his people, and he used his Voice, and he took back the city. Some people call him a hero because of that. I\u2019m sure you\u2019ve heard people talk about it: the deal was that we\u2019d be allowed to worship Talos even though the White-Gold Concordat said we couldn\u2019t. I don\u2019t remember it, of course, because I was too little; but my Ma said that it was kind of an awful time to be in the city. We lived out by Karthwasten by that point, so we weren\u2019t right in the middle of it, as far as I know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

He stopped to take a drink of water, motioned that Harald should do the same, and then continued. \u201cSome of the Reachmen ran off into the hills and the caves and started calling themselves the Forsworn. People who had worked for the Reachmen were killed. And, you know, lots of people who probably shouldn\u2019t have been killed were killed; but I think you could say that about the last forty whole years and not be far off. You\u2019ll hear different stories about who did what back then, Harald, and I can\u2019t tell you which ones are true, because I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kinds of stories?\u201d he\u2019d asked Dardeh.<\/p>\n

Dardeh frowned. \u201cWell, I was maybe four years old when your father got thrown in prison by the Thalmor. They said it was because he\u2019d ordered everyone who didn\u2019t side with him killed.\u201d He splashed some water over his face, and shook his head. \u201cI have to admit I grew up ready to hate him if I ever met him, because of all the stories. But other people said it was the Jarl \u2013 Hrolfdir, not his son who was Jarl when Roggi and I were fighting – who did it. It was definitely Hrolfdir who turned your father over to the Thalmor. He did it because he was afraid of the elves, and there\u2019s a part of me that understands that. The Thalmor are nasty, and lots of them use magic.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald had taken a few moments to ponder that. It was a huge thing to ponder, the idea that maybe his own father had put people to death who didn\u2019t deserve it; and it made him feel a bit sick to his stomach.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what do you think? Did Father order those people killed?\u201d Harald desperately wanted to believe that it wasn\u2019t true. The awful thing, though, was that he could imagine that it might be. He\u2019d certainly seen his father be cold and calculating.<\/p>\n

Dardeh had shaken his head. \u201cI don\u2019t know, Harald. He and I haven\u2019t always seen eye to eye, so it\u2019s hard for me to judge. But I do know this to be a fact: the Thalmor tortured him, and they wouldn\u2019t even let him go when his own father \u2013 your grandfather \u2013 died. I think that hurt him more than the torture did. Roggi could probably give you a better idea of the truth of things. He knows Ulfric better than I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald had thanked Dardeh for the information, but he\u2019d never asked Roggi about it. Roggi was his father\u2019s friend. He was certain that friendship would color any kind of opinion he might have about the past. Instead, he\u2019d let all of his questions simmer in his mind until he\u2019d arrived where he was now: a man with his own home, ready to make his own decisions and figure out where he fit in the grand scheme of things.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll leave a note to let them know I\u2019ve gone to study Dwemer artifacts in Markarth \u2013 assuming the carriage driver hasn\u2019t spread the word all over Skyrim by the end of the week. Father will probably understand why, right away. Mother will have a fit; but she\u2019ll find something to busy herself with soon enough, to take her mind off things. She always does.<\/em><\/p>\n

Having finally come to a decision, Harald collected his things for the trip west. He found his excitement growing as he went. He was finally doing something for himself. He climbed into the back of the carriage and asked the driver \u201cWhat can you tell me about Markarth?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine old city, built right into the mountains\u201d the man said. \u201cThey say it was built by the Dwarves. I don\u2019t believe a word of it. But that\u2019s all I know. Ask the driver who works out of Markarth, once we get there. He\u2019ll be able to tell you all about the place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The sun\u2019s rays were taking a long, low angle when they arrived in Markarth at the end of the following day. Harald thanked his driver and hopped down, looking up in awe at the massive structures before him. They weren\u2019t in or under the mountains, the way the driver had suggested; but he knew from his readings that there was a great deal more to this place than he could see from outside its walls.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

He cast his gaze around the area. A guard watched from a tower just in front of Harald. The stables were off to his right, built into one of the old banks of Dwemer dwellings that still stood out in the open. And to his left, nestled next to a low stone wall near the river that ran out from the city, was a tent pitched next to a horse and carriage. Harald had long since decided to follow up on the suggestion to talk to the local driver; so he approached the man and smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you need a ride?\u201d the driver asked.<\/p>\n

Harald chuckled. \u201cNo, I just got here. I was hoping you could tell me about this place. I\u2019m doing a bit of research, but this is my first visit. My driver,\u201d and here he pointed down the road toward the carriage heading out on its long trip back to the east, \u201csaid you were the guy to ask.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The man seated on the ground before his fire nodded. \u201cWell that was kind of him to say. I can tell you what I know. It\u2019s an old city. Legends say dwarves built it first, at least that\u2019s what them scholars say. The stonework\u2019s not Nord; that much is for certain. Old Elven fellow named Calcelmo up in the keep could tell you more about them dwarves; but you probably knew the part about the legends already.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald grinned. \u201cI did. But go on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d the man said, scratching his chin, \u201cAfter they vanished, the natives moved in. Then the Nords took over, around Tiber Septim\u2019s time. That bent a few folks\u2019 arms the wrong way.\u201d He smirked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d Harald was fairly certain that he could guess, but he wanted to hear it from the carriage driver\u2019s mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cA whole group of the natives called the Forsworn rose up against the Nords, and drove them out. Then Ulfric Stormcloak came with his militia. That must have been a sight to see, him Shouting folks to death.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hair rose on the back of Harald\u2019s neck. He was grateful for the dimming light, and for the fact that this man had clearly never met the King; because it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps his uncanny resemblance to his father might work to his disadvantage in this place.<\/p>\n

This driver\u2019s got his time frames all squashed together, too. Tiber Septim was ages and ages ago. Father is old, but he\u2019s not centuries old!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d think that would be the end of it,\u201d the man continued, \u201cbut those Forsworn are still in the hills and they\u2019re wild as wolves. And some say it\u2019s even worse to the west, across the border.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald nodded. \u201cSo who are these Forsworn, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey just call themselves the People of the Reach. Reachmen. Got a common blood with the Bretons by the looks of them. They used to have their own kingdom before the Nords came. Now they\u2019re at the bottom of the hay pile.\u201d He pointed across the way, toward the stables. \u201cYou should go talk to old Cedran over there. He knows a lot more about how things used to be than I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d Harald said, handing the man a few coins. \u201cInformation is worth its weight in gold, if you ask me.\u201d That was a thing he\u2019d learned from Chip\u2019s father. He\u2019d heard it a hundred times: you always pay for your information.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cMuch obliged.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was in fact an old man leaning up against the wall of one of the stable\u2019s stalls. Harald approached him and watched the man\u2019s eyes light up, while the horses whinnied and shook their manes.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey there,\u201d he said to the man. \u201cAre you Cedran?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat I am,\u201d Cedran replied. \u201cDo you need a horse?\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald shook his head. \u201cNot at the moment, but I might in a day or two. The carriage driver said you might be the guy to ask about Markarth. History and such.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cedran couldn\u2019t quite keep the disappointment off his face; but Harald jiggled the coin purse he\u2019d paid the driver from, just enough to get Cedran\u2019s attention and send a clear message. Cedran grinned, and nodded his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want to know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, for starters, tell me about the Jarl.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be Thongvor Silver-Blood. He took over when the Rebellion ended, maybe twenty years ago now, I think it\u2019s been. He and his family pretty much control all the trade in and out of the west and you can bet they send a cut of it to the King, to pay for protection. But you didn\u2019t hear that from me,\u201d he added, dropping his voice.<\/p>\n

Just occurred to the man that he doesn\u2019t know who he\u2019s talking to. If he\u2019s trying to suggest that Father takes bribes, well\u2026 I don\u2019t know what to think.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about before the war?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore that, we had Jarl Igmund. He was pretty young for a Jarl, so he stayed loyal to the Empire. Protection, I suppose. It was his father who helped capture Ulfric Stormcloak \u2013 I guess I should call him King Ulfric, huh? \u2013 after the Markarth Incident.\u201d<\/p>\n

This was what Harald had been waiting for. He desperately wanted to know what had happened, from the viewpoint of someone who\u2019d been here.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was that all about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell this would have been almost forty years ago or so now, if I remember right. It was the whole reason Ulfric revolted against the Empire. Or at least the first reason. Forsworn had taken over the city and the mines and everything around, and Ulfric and his men drove them out. They made a deal with the Empire that they\u2019d be free to worship Talos if they did it. Pity nobody told the elves. Whole bunch of those Thalmor came and arrested Ulfric, and threw him in prison. Obviously he got out later; and that\u2019s when the Rebellion started up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald rubbed his chin. \u201cSo Ulfric was<\/em> a hero, for driving out the Forsworn?\u201d<\/p>\n

Cedran pursed his lips and shrugged. \u201cDepends on who you ask. Before the Nords came, we out here in the Reach \u2013 you know, generations ago \u2013 had our own kingdom. Worshipped the old gods. Times have been good and bad since then, but some folks can\u2019t handle not ruling their own land.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean like my\u2026\u201d Harald stopped himself short. Almost blew it right there. I don\u2019t need to give myself away quite yet, really. <\/em>\u201cYou mean like the Stormcloaks, twenty years ago?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell I meant the Forsworn. Even after all this time, and after Ulfric becoming High King, they\u2019re still stirring up trouble. Specially some of the old folks who are still around since before the Rebellion. They just won\u2019t give up.\u201d Cedran leaned forward and peered at Harald, then shook his head and sagged back against the wall again. \u201cThe Forsworn follow the old ways, but some of those? They\u2019re best forgotten. Blood sacrifices, communing with Daedra. It\u2019s the road to ruin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald shuddered. \u201cI would think so. I mean\u2026 I know the Old Gods were warlike, but I didn\u2019t think\u2026\u201d He shook his head, thinking of Shor, the warrior-god who now supposedly ruled over Sovngarde. The only thing he\u2019d ever had from Shor was the unshakable knowledge that he should be a warrior, not that he should make blood sacrifices. \u201cDoesn\u2019t matter what I thought. I don\u2019t know everything; that\u2019s why I\u2019m talking to you. And I appreciate the information.\u201d<\/p>\n

He opened the coin purse and scooped out a generous handful of coins for Cedran. That was one sure advantage to being the Heir Apparent; he had money, and he didn\u2019t mind spending it. Besides, Harald thought Cedran might have suspected who he was, or at least thought he recognized the resemblance. A handful of coin might help the man forget that he\u2019d seen anything at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d the old man said to him. \u201cIf you end up needing that horse, well, you know where to come. I\u2019ll give you a good price. You might want to talk to Calcelmo up in the keep, if you want to know more about the Dwarves and such. I don\u2019t know much about that part of things.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harald smiled, and nodded, and turned toward the city gates. As he walked slowly up the stairs he couldn\u2019t help but ponder what a confusing issue it was, still.<\/p>\n

Father\u2019s said that the Empire abandoned the Reach when the Aldmeri Dominion invaded the Imperial City. I\u2019ve heard Galmar say that, too. The Empire abandoned Skyrim, they say. That\u2019s why Markarth called him to come help drive out the Forsworn; the Empire wasn\u2019t here to do it. But it\u2019s like these people say: it depends on who you ask.<\/em><\/p>\n

I still want to believe that if he did the wrong things, he did them for the right reasons. But I don\u2019t know for certain how to find out.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

He nodded to the guards on either side of the great Dwemer doors and stopped for a moment to examine the metal. It was a golden-bronze color, heavy with age in its intricate inlays, and yet still beautiful. Harald heard someone approaching just behind him. Not wanting to block passage, and with his heart fluttering with excitement, Harald pushed the doors open.<\/p>\n

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Home Previous \/ Next   So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out. There\u2019s so much left to know – and I\u2019m on the road to find out. \u2013 Cat Stevens The young man sat on his bed, frowning. It felt to him as though it was high time to leave, … <\/p>\n

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