The Skyrim Pirates (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Rena didn’t waste any time, immediately making full use of my new, reluctant position as her personal lackey. Not that I’d expected any less; I was used to people ordering me around, gleefully taking advantage of having a Dragonborn helping them. As soon as I was out of the cell, I was given my orders and allowed ten minutes to restock my supplies with the army’s resources at my disposal.

As I indulged my desire to take as many potions as was physically possible to fit in my satchel, I considered playing the “prank” that Sanguine had asked me to. However, I dismissed the thought almost immediately; why rush a good trick? I’d wait until I returned.

I restocked with a liberal hand, much to the annoyance of the Imperial in charge of supplies. Finally, I was content, and headed to the lift that would take me away from the darkness of Blackreach with a spring in my step.

Rena’s first order was to travel to Windhelm without delay and present Ulfric Stormcloak with a scroll, declaring war. I’d half expected to deliver an axe instead, as was the Nord custom when war was on the horizon, but then again, Rena wasn’t a Nord. She was an Imperial – and very proud of it. I’d noted with delight the faint look of disgust on her face when she’d first regarded Gudlin. Nords were mostly mindless savages in the eyes of true Imperials. Frankly, I tended to agree.

I took a last glance around Blackreach, feeling glad to be leaving, if only for a short time. Mercer and Rena were holed up somewhere in one of the old, disused war rooms to discuss strategies. I couldn’t fathom why Rena wanted Mercer’s opinion – he wasn’t exactly an expert in the art of war; at least, I didn’t think he was. Gudlin was nowhere to be seen, which lightened my mood considerably – maybe he’d fallen into one of the rivers and taken an unexpected trip down a waterfall...

One could only hope.

I could see Crusher though – he was sparring with six other Imperial soldiers, dispatching them with ease and leaving them gaping at the towering Orc, who yelled for a worthy opponent.

I gripped the lever and pulled it, causing the lift to judder to a start.

A few moments later, I stepped out into the snowy landscape of the province I called home; Skyrim. I breathed in the crisp air, a chill running down my spine as a gust of cool air whipped the hair away from my face.

 I was finally alone, completely alone.

I stood still as a wave of unwanted thoughts burst out of the dark recesses of my brain, springing to the front of my mind. Now that I was finally alone, without anyone hovering beside me, I could think clearly for the first time in an age.

Where was Jolgar? What had happened to him? Was Ralof safe? Was Sprig – my beloved wardog - still alive, somewhere in the wilderness, pining for her master? Did Brynjolf regret throwing me out of the guild now, because of Vex’s ...death?  Did Ulfric have his Stormcloaks searching for me? Did I have a bounty?

I forced myself into a careful jog down the icy path leading away from Alftand, trying to stop the barrage of questions. But one word burned in my thoughts with more intensity then the others.

Jolgar.

I had to know what had happened to him after the Skyrim Pirates’ base had been raided by the Stormcloaks. I felt responsible for him.

Almost unconsciously, I pulled out my map of Skyrim, careful not to tear the worn and yellow paper. I supposed that Rena wouldn’t mind if I took a detour...?

Albeit a long detour.

How would she know that I hadn’t gone straight to Windhelm, apart from the extra week or so it took me to return to Alftand...?