Mage (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 15: Stone and Steel

[Note: This chapter is under heavy editing! I'm trying to get it all fixed as soon as I can, but there's a major-ish plot point I'm in the middle of revamping, because I'm trying to dispose of an unnecessary antagonist that for whatever reason I added in here, long ago. If you're reading this and it seems disjointed, I'd recommend skipping it and coming back to it later, because it's not absolutely integral to the plot in the state it is now.]

The ancient stone city was shrouded in a thick fog, almost as if the hold itself was mourning its recent losses. Dark, dismal grey hid the sun from view and dimmed the streets, and the world seemed to have lost most of it's color, becoming various shades of grey in the gloomy half-light. It was unusually dismal-looking, and it wasn't just the mist making it so. The streets were still stained with blood in some places, though the bodies that had once littered them had all been thrown into the river, the stench of death still had not cleared itself from the alleys.

Even though many of the original inhabitants of Markarth were dead, it was far from deserted. It was quite the contrary; rather than civilians going about their daily business, the hold was now full of Forsworn troops, all of them making preparations for further invasions as well as strengthening the defenses of their newly-claimed territory. Though a considerable number of rebels had been ordered to go back to their camps to defend their already-existing positions, many stayed behind, and this was evident. There were quite a few troops working on making barricades and laying traps around the city should anyone try to take their new city away from them, while others took inventory of the supplies they had gained and yet others were in the process of producing more supplies with the new resources they'd been given.

At this particular moment, the blacksmith's forge of the city was being run by two middle-aged men, clearly experienced in such a trade. They forged blades and repaired broken weapons and armor as they were clearly ordered to, but they seemed to be putting more of their time into messing around with traditional designs than actually mass-producing better weapons for the ranks. One of them was working on some strange sword design, seemingly a cross between a crude Forsworn blade and a traditional steel one. It was made of steel, but rather than a typical edge, it was spiked just like the Forsworn blades, save each of the spikes now had serrated edges and looked considerably more deadly and a whole lot less crude, and the hilt was wrapped professionally in dark braided leather. Seemingly finished with the sword, the man turned to his associate with a flourish. "So, it's finally finished. Your thoughts?"

The other man looked up from his work and let out a whistle, replying, "Not the worst thing I've ever seen. Which is more than I can say for some of your work."  

"Glad I can safely say this has Arik the nitpicker's seal of approval. Maybe you'll be able to come up with something of your own one of these days, eh?" the first man teased, his reply earning a snort from the other. Setting the blade down carefully on a workbench, he took the opportunity to lean against a timber support casually before continuing, "What do you make of Gwencalon's promotion to Briarheart? A bit odd, don't you think?"

"I don't know what to think about it. That fellow is trouble, and Ealdwine had to know something about his questionable acts. From what I know of him, he's heavily concerned in our welfare, and you'd think he'd promote someone who actually deserves it. Thetric, perhaps, or Ciele? Even you'd be a better choice than Gwencalon."

"Perhaps he chose him to keep an eye on him? The whole 'keep your friends close but your enemies closer' tactic? Nevertheless, the idea of that high of a promotion unnerves me anyways, so I'm glad it wasn't me," the man's voice dropped to a low tone as he continued, "After all, I can't be the only one who's noticed how... different the Briarhearts are from the rest of us. They're barely even human, at least, in their actions and mannerisms."