I left Windhelm the next morning, my mind shifting through all the possible issues that might pop up by following Ulfric's plan. It was simple, devious, and brilliant. Exactly what you'd expect from him. The thing was, the idea's success depended upon my not so amazing acting skills, and restraint, which wasn't really something I was known for possessing. But then, if I was able to hasten the end of this pointless war, even better.
On the way to Rorikstead, I halted at Whiterun, where I got my armor repaired from the last time a dragon mauled it, and went to Farengar to see if he had any new spell books. "Oh yes, I have quite the thing for an enterprising mage like you, hmm? Here you go, this is a tome for Lightning Cloak. At only six hundred septims, it's a bargain!" I raised an eyebrow at him. "And, what exactly, does this actually do? At that price, it better have a better use than just a pretty aura." Farengar smiled at me. "It certainly does. It drains the magicka and health of enemies surrounding you within a certain range." I definitely could use such a spell, I thought to myself. After buying it, and saying hello to my friends, namely Lydia, Aela, and a few more Companions, I went to bed and rose at the break of dawn, eager to start my journey to Rorikstead.
I reached the town after a slow day's ride without running into any obstacles and rented a room at the Frostfruit Inn. The innkeeper seemed a bit surly but that was probably because of the persistent dragon menace, according to some of the farmers in the area. This probably affected everyone's business. The man cheered up after I bought supplies that would amount to a week's travel, and became rather talkative, filling me in on a lot of rumours that I doubt I would have come across otherwise. I sipped from my tankard of mead and waited, knowing that Galmar could attack at any moment.
I was slightly distracted by a boy, Erik, arguing with the innkeeper about going on an adventure and smiled to myself. A few months on the road and the kid would probably be whining for home. My smile faded as I remembered what had happened to Halfrogge, another young man who wanted nothing but to see more than his hometown. This kid could end up the same. After scaring the daylights out of him, and softening the blow by promising to help him become an adventurer in the future, I felt better. Then I heard the roar.
I ran outside to see a gigantic dragon setting a field on fire. Its size and appearance was that of a Revered Dragon, one of the most dangerous beasts to prowl the land. I knew the first thing I had to do was ground the creature, and so I readied myself and Shouted. "Joor Zah Frul!"
The by now familiar blue shockwave hit the dragon's flank and it crashed with a resounding thud, and gave me a glare that promised a painful death before advancing towards me. Involuntarily, I took a step back, and pulled out one of my short-swords. With my other hand, I generated a Greater Ward to protect me against the dragon's fiery breath. As I was about to charge it, I heard a woman yell, "Fire at will boys! The target is too big to miss." A flurry of arrows hit the creature's wing and it was momentarily distracted. I saw the boy Erik stare open-mouthed for a while before pelting the dragon with rocks. Taking advantage of the diversion of the dragon's attention, I ran towards it and jumped on its back. It immediately reared and I grabbed onto a spike for dear life, cursing the whole while. I stabbed the beast in the neck as many times as I could, and soon its bucking slowed, then ultimately ceased, thanks to the blood loss. I slid off of its back even as it turned to bone, and after absorbing its soul, I turned to thank my fellow fighters, only to stop cold.
They were dressed in the uniforms of the Imperials. The woman, a Legate, if I had her rank correct bowed to me and said, "That was quite a fine kill, Dragonborn. The stories about your battle skills are indeed true. I am Legate Rikke, and I would be much obliged if you could accompany me and my men to Solitude. We have an important shipment to deliver, and the night is dark and full of terrors. Not to mention dragons. We can fight, but such beasts are beyond our ability to manage. I can promise you you will be well rewarded." I was too dazed to object and she took my silence for assent before walking off, even as I fought the urge to throw my dagger into her back.
After that little speech, she immediately started barking orders at her men, who obeyed without question. She must be quite a leader then, to be regarded with such respect. Not to forget her fighting abilities too. My first impulse was to kill them all. I knew I could. But I remembered Ulfric's injunction and bit my lip. Self-control it was then. The boy Erik approached one of the Imperial soldiers, and I knew that my efforts to keep him safe were in vain, as I saw an enthusiastic grin spread across his face, even as he vigorously nodded. Rikke was watching the proceedings as well, and frowned before slightly shaking her head, and muttering something. She didn't stop it though, and soon, Erik was outfitted in some light Imperial Armor, and had been given a sword that he couldn't stop staring at.
Rikke, after checking that none of her men were too badly injured, called for silence. "My brothers and sisters, that was a fine victory!" Her soldiers cheered, even as I internally snickered.
You people had no more part in that than you did in the war against the Aldmeri Dominion. The Aldmeri Dominion were an alliance between the nations of Elsweyr, Valenwood, and the Summerset Isles, the home countries of the Khajiits, Wood Elves and the High Elves respectively. The Emperor Tiber Septim (who after his death ascended to godhood to become the god Talos- though disputed by some) with the help of an artifact called the Numidium, conquered the Summerset Isles (apparently the elves had attacked first, though this is doubted by a few), and this act bred resentment in the Dominion. Years later, after Tiber Septim's 'death' and his dynasty's collapse thanks to the Oblivion Crisis, the Aldmeri attacked the Empire and almost succeeded in their quest, even taking over the Imperial City, Cyrodiil's capital, only to have their armies ruthlessly broken in the Battle of the Red Ring. After their crushing defeat, the White Gold Concordat was signed, and this paved the way for the Civil War in Skyrim- one of its terms was the ban of Talos worship in the country, something no self respecting Nord would take lying down.
The Stormcloaks, and myself, were of the opinion that the current Emperor, Titus Mede II, had signed the Concordat merely to keep his crown. He had stopped fighting after a crucial victory, and many citizens still thought that we should have gone on the offensive after retaking the Imperial city, ending the Dominion once and for all. Instead, we had been forced to let Hammerfell secede from the Empire and battle the Dominion on their own (one of the terms mentioned in the Concordat was the ceding of land from Hammerfell to the Aldmeri, and secession was the only way to avoid it) thus losing one of the Empire's best military alliances. To put it simply, Titus Mede II realized that the Concordat bought peace to Cyrodiil at the cost of Skyrim and Hammerfell, and for whatever Oblivion-cursed reason, he had signed it.
Matters were only aggravated years later, when Ulfric had stormed and taken Markarth, and asked the Empire to allow Talos worship in that city alone. They had assented, but after the Thalmor (the Dominion's watchdogs in Skyrim) had thrown a tantrum, they immediately arrested Ulfric and threw him in prison, even as news came from Windhelm about his father, the Jarl's death. Ulfric wasn't allowed to leave, and thus had to deliver his father's eulogy via letter. When he was finally released, and took his place at Jarl, he started the Stormcloak rebellion and the Civil War in Skyrim.
I didn't blame him. After all, I knew firsthand the cruelty of the Imperials.
I shook myself out of the thoughts of the past, and realized Rikke was still speaking. " And this will make you proud, my loyal soldiers! The Dragonborn herself, the hero of Skyrim has agreed to accompany us to Solitude, and I only hope she fights with us always as she did today!"
A wild cheer went up from the men and I grimaced at the attention. I had never really liked the attention and it was disconcerting, coming from a bunch of people who you entertained grisly murder fantasies about. This mission was a mistake. I couldn't possibly maintain this mask, and fight alongside these people. What had I agreed to?
Rikke finally finished her speech, and after proclaiming the men could rest tonight, but they had to leave at dawn, she left them to their devices and approached me. In a quiet voice, she spoke. "I'm sorry Dragonborn, for that speech, but I have to keep my men's morale high." I nodded curtly at her, and controlling myself, even managed a smile. "Of course. I understand. I'm going to bed now. See you in the morning." I walked away as fast I could without seeming suspicious and collapsed in my room. An hour or so, and my patience was already stretched to breaking point. Damn you, Ulfric!
I woke up the next morning after fitfully tossing and turning, and joined the Imperial convoy. Rikke, after wisely noting I was not exactly in a talkative mood, greeted me and made sure I was left alone. I rode with Erik and he chattered on excitedly about the dragon, about me being the Dragonborn, a lot of things. I listened and nodded at the right places, but I was barely listening. After an hour's ride, we were in the middle of the long road to Solitude, and it was abandoned apart from us.
Even as I noted the almost unnatural silence, I heard the whoosh of an arrow in flight and saw it punch into the shoulder of an Imperial soldier. A second clattered against Rikke's armor, and a hail of them rained down upon us. I summoned a Greater Ward that deflected the arrows away from me, and pulled out my sword.
Rikke had managed to get her troops in some semblance of order and they were getting in a position to counter attack. I dismounted from my horse and faced the Stormcloak soldiers before Shouting. "Fus Ro!" My Unrelenting Force Shout, not being at full power, merely caused the soldiers to collapse and stagger but I heard Galmar's familiar voice sounding a retreat and I turned back towards Rikke, curious to see if she'd chase them. She looked furious, but instead of sounding a command to follow, she dismounted as well and walked among the men, murmuring encouragement. I looked around, and suddenly noticed Erik was no longer on his horse.
I saw a group of men crowding in a circle, and I was filled with a sense of dread. Walking towards them, I murmured a prayer to the Nine, hoping against hope that it would be nothing. The men parted at the sight of me, and I saw three bodies arranged in a line, one among them Erik. He had been hit in the eye with an arrow, and his bright shiny armor glinted uselessly in the sun. He was dead, another senseless casualty, just like Halfrogge, just like Oblivion knew how many else. I was tired of the brutality, of the needless carnage and the war had just begun.
Rikke ordered the dead given a funeral, which I barely remembered, I was so lost in sorrow and helpless fury, and we moved on, somberly riding towards our destination. After about another day's travel, we reached the capital of Skyrim- Solitude, where Rikke asked me to accompany her as she made her way to Castle Dour, the Imperial army's headquarters. I followed her, still numb from the death of Erik, and we entered the Castle. A heavily armored man surrounded by Imperial soldiers stood in front of a map of Skyrim, much like the one Ulfric had, and Rikke greeted him. "General Tullius, the new shipment is here."
The man's expression didn't change. "Good. And who is this? Another soldier? I've told you not to bother me with recruits, Rikke." She walked up to him and murmured quietly, though I overheard a few words like Dragonborn, Oath and Quaestor. Tullius gave me a speculative look and ordered me to approach. I entertained brief thoughts of cutting off his head, but my usual blood-thirst died rather quickly at the memory of Erik, and I obeyed, remembering Ulfric's plan, and promise that his idea would save lives. It was the hope I now clung to.
"So, you are Ven Dragonborn. Legate Rikke tells me that you would like to fight for the Imperials. Is this so?" I nodded assent at him and he looked at me calculatingly. "Why do you look familiar? Wait. Weren't you at Helgen?"
I looked at him and tried to smile. It probably looked like I was injured and trying not to cry. "Yes, sir. You were about to execute a group of Stormcloaks, and unfortunately, I had been captured with them."
Tullius frowned. "You do realize that we had no choice? You could have easily been one of Ulfric's spies." Ah General, if only you knew how ironic your choice of words would prove.
He seemed to come to a decision. "Ordinarily I would be more skeptical about my recruits but Legate Rikke has told me of your aid on the way to Solitude. I thus bestow upon you the rank of Quaestor, and bid you to bring terror and death to our enemies. The Legate will guide you through the oath.
For the second time in a span of days, I recited an oath of loyalty. This one, I knew was a farce though.
"Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty. Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"
Tullius smiled at me. "Welcome to the ranks Quaestor. For your first mission, I have heard that the Stormcloaks have issued a challenge to the Jarl of Whiterun and he has asked for our aid. Go there, and help his defences."
I bowed, hating the movement even as I executed it. "As you command."