"Anyway, what now?"
We go back and beg your brother to change his mind. As pretty as she is, Lucan has a point when it comes to Camilla making it on her own. The plan was never to abscond with his naive sister so I might as well take some responsibility.
"Well first let's find a quieter place. I need to get some armor on you for the road and I don't think the street is the place to change." I say.
"True, but why do I need armor? I thought I was just going with you to sell stuff." Camilla asks.
"This is Skyrim, we could be attacked at any time, especially on the road. It won't help against a dragon but it'll help with everything else." I reply.
"Oh."
"Oh indeed. Come on, the innkeepers out but we can still borrow a room to get you changed."
"Sounds good."
Once again testing the patience of Orgnar the barman I steal Camilla into the same room I rented earlier. I lay out the Imperial light armor on the bed and turn to find Camilla has not only striped but is right next to me. She's not naked but the very plain undergarments she's wearing look more like a cloth bikini than something a medieval peasant would wear for modesty. Come to think of it, modern women's underwear are basically cloth bikinis. It's gonna be really weird when I finally buy panties for myself. Almost as weird as freeballing it everywhere in a Roman battle skirt.
"Wow." Camilla says, holding up the chest piece. "I've only ever seen it on soldiers before. We deal in armor occasionally but never a full set of military gear."
"It's your's now."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. You took a pretty big risk coming with me so consider it your first payment. I'll also throw in an old sword and this light shield. There's not really a point in wearing armor if you can't protect yourself." I say, laying out my spare iron sword and a shield I got from the bandits.
"Oh wow, thank you so much. Just give me a second and I'll squeeze into this." Camilla says, lifting the leather breast piece above her head. "Ugh, so tight-"
It fit fine on me but I also remember it being loose on me before. Camilla is chubby by earth standards, with bountiful curves and so struggles to fit into the leathers. I watch with masked delight as her soft flesh bulges against the material. She manages to fit, but it's clear she'll have to take it off since it's far too small.
"Oof, tight fit. I knew it would be but by the Gods you are skinny. I mean it makes sense but still; to do everything you've done recently at less than half my size is impressive." Camilla says, adjusting her chest in vain.
"Thanks, I'll help take that off. It looks like it was smaller than I remember." I say, moving to help her.
"No, it should be fine. It's not damaged? The rune I mean." Camilla adds seeing my confused face.
"Ah, no but what's that got to do with it?"
"Oh right, I keep forgetting you've basically been a prisoner for most of your life. There's a magic rune placed on quality pieces of equipment that repairs and one that repairs and adjusts for a better fit. The armor you gave me is small because you were wearing it, but given time it should resize itself to me. It already feels a bit better now, actually." Camilla explains, this time succeeding in adjusting most of her breast meat inside the armor.
"Huh." that explains a lot.
"There are limits, so you can't arm a giant or anything with normal sized stuff but any kind of equipment that's of a certain quality should have the magic to do it. It's standard for the Legion." she continues, sliding on the boots.
After a moment she's fully equipped, but very much still spilling out everywhere. If this bothers her she doesn't show it.
"Alright, I'm done. Let's get going."
We leave the inn and Riverwood behind, ignoring the stares Camilla's squashed appearance no doubt brings. I avoid looking at her until we pass the bridge and am surprised to find that the armor now looks to be about the right size for her.
"Looks like we'd have to run if we want to make it to Whiterun before nightfall." I say, looking at the low hanging sun.
"Is the Jarl expecting you soon?" she asks.
"No, we can walk. I'm just used to running everywhere I guess."
"That's probably why you're still so skinny. We need to feed you properly once we reach town." Camilla responds, a look of genuine concern on her face.
I don't reply. I quite like chubby girls but I think it would probably be rude to Camilla to point out that perhaps she overeats. She wears it pretty well and now that I've had time to look everyone seems to be a bit on the heftier side so maybe it's just a Skyrim thing. That and I have been eating a ton, or at least more than I thought a girl my size should eat, without gaining any weight. Which is probably from all the running around.
-
"Wow."
Whiterun at night is almost as beautiful as it is in the day, alight with torches in the moonlight. We're coming down the final path before the crossroads that gives a spectacular view of Whiterun from the trees. We stand together to admire the sight before a shadow sweeps in front of our vision.
"What?"
A moment later a loud roar echoes from the sky.
"It's a dragon." I say grimly.
"Really? Is it attacking the town?" Camilla asks fearfully.
"I don't know, but we should probably go back. Riverwood will probably be safe and there's no cover on the road to the city." I respond, unsure of how to proceed with Camilla next to me.
"Doesn't the Jarl need the Dragonstone to fight the dragons?" Camilla asks.
"His court wizard but-"
"Then I think we should go. We have to try. It's the right thing to do." she says, a mixture of fear and a little fire in her voice.
Since I can't really tell her that it doesn't actually matter when Farengar gets the stone I nod instead, and we head together into the night as roars fill the sky.
-
Whiterun is buzzing at this late hour. The dragon's roar awakened the whole town. The city is in a barely controlled panic as the city buzzes about what to do. Running through the city streets it becomes apparent that the order is maintained just as much by the guards as it is by the fact no one knows what to do.
"Go home. Take shelter in your house and let us defend you." says one guard to a family trying to leave.
"Are you crazy? Our homes are made of wood!"
"That dragon will pick you off as soon as you leave the city. Don't be so rash!"
"Better that than burned alive!"
"Please, you're safer here. Don't risk your safety."
"Tell that to Helgen!"
"You gotta admit, they have a point." Camilla says to me as we pass.
"They wouldn't have time to argue if that dragon was here for Whiterun." I reply.
"Was Helgen that bad?"
"Probably worse."
"Then that just means we should hurry then."
Camilla and I make our way out of the inn and up towards Dragonsreach in a brisk walk, as a full run is impossible with the city exploding in irregular panicked activity. I thought that being in a big city might be distracting for Camilla but every time I glance back at her she's staring back at me, with a focus that's kind of scaring me. Up past many steps, beyond the Gildergleam and the temple, to the steps overlooking Jorrvaskr and finally at the top of the long staircase we reach the palace. The guards don't even say hello but let me pass with a nod. The hall within is practically empty with only the usual guards at the perimeter. Making my way to the lab I can hear a familiar conversation that I've heard a million times before from the game.
"You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier." Farengar says. "I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other later texts."
"Good." replies a familiar female voice. "I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."
"Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research." Farengar says cheerfully.
"Time is running, Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back." the woman warns.
"Yes, yes. Don't worry." the court wizard replies dismissively. "Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers may be interested as well...".
"You have a visitor." Delphine says, having noticed me as soon as I rounded the corner.
The innkeeper from Riverwood had donned an inconspicuous set of leather armor with a hood to hide her identity. If I hadn't played the game a billion times I doubt I would have noticed.
"Hmm? Ah, yes, the Jarl's protege! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems." the wizard remarks.
"Yup" I say, setting the Dragonstone on the table.
"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way." he says examining the stone. "My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me."
"You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work." Delphine says. "Remember to send me a copy when you've deciphered it, Farengar."
Delphine makes to leave, perhaps wary of the extra attention. I make an effort to not stare at her ass with Camilla right behind me, but I don't have to try for long. Irileth comes a moment later looking alarmed.
"Farengar!" Irileth shouts. "Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon's been sighted nearby. You should come, too." she says pointing at me.
"A dragon! How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing?" Farengar gabs.
"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you." the dark elf warns. "If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it."
They hurry out of the laboratory in haste. I follow behind, leisurely by comparison. Camilla looks at me silently for direction and I motion that she should come with me. We take a right to the stairs up to what I believe is the Jarl's war room. A large table stands off center in the room surrounded by bookshelves, chairs and chests. The other side of the room and the table is a very spacious walkway as its primary function is a junction to the upper balcony and Jarls quarter's. So less of a war room and more of a large war nook.
The Jarl himself is standing in the middle of the walkway, arms crossed facing us as we emerge. In front of him are Irileth, Farengar and a particularly haggard guard standing between them. The war nook is relatively unoccupied so I situate Camilla and myself there as to be present but out of the way.
"So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?" Balgruuf asks the guard.
"Tell him what you told me. About the dragon." Irileth encourages.
"Uh... that's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I've ever seen." he manages, the presence of the Jarl weighing his speech.
"What did it do?" Balgruuf continues. "Is it attacking the watchtower?"
"No, my lord." replies the guardsman. "It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure."
"Good work, son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it." the Jarl says with an approving smile. The smile only lasts until the guard turns his back. "Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."
"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate." she replies, completely in her element.
"Good. Don't fail me. There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. " Balgruuf says, turning to me. "I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this Dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons then anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city. And please accept this gift from my personal armory."
It's not a request. It's not even a command. It's a plea. I'm an unknown vagabond who could walk away at any time. No invisible transaction occurs this time, instead he materializes a large shield to give me by hand. It's a long diamond kite shield, an Imperial heavy shield. It's a wooden shield with steel edges with the Imperial motif at its center on its own little diamond of metal. I accept it with a nod.
"I should come along." Farengar says. "I would very much like to see this dragon."
"No." Balgruuf replies. "I can't afford to risk both of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city against these dragons."
"As you command."
"One last thing, Irileth. This isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we're dealing with." Balgruuf warns.
"Don't worry, my lord. I'm the very soul of caution."
-
"Now what do you say?!" Irileth shouts. "Shall we go kill us a dragon?!!".
A crowd of guards cheer back. A group of twenty or so guards in yellow clap and cheer their support for the crazy housecarl. I guess it is a death or glory mission after all.
The terrain between here and the tower has almost no cover, meaning we'll all probably die if the dragon attacks us on the road. I have no idea how closely this dragon will mirror the one from the game so I've taken measures to try and be as flexible as possible with my approach, which mostly means buying relevant spells with the gold Lucan gave me for retrieving the claw. These are a tad more complicated than Sparks was, so I'm forced to read the two tomes I've purchased (at a merciful discount) while I walk with the guards, trying to ignore their murmurs as we move.
"The Imperials are just soft. We'll show that dragon what's what."
"You really think we can kill a dragon?..."
"With Irileth you're either in for glory or nothing at all…"
"My cousin is posted at the watchtower. I hope he's all right…"
"We're so dead…"
I'm currently trying to master Ward. Wards are the spells for blocking magic and, hopefully, dragon fire. I never really used them in game but I used to not fear death when I played either. It will shatter if exposed to too much magic damage but I'm hoping it'll last long enough for me to jump behind a rock or something. When I reach the part about the standard hand motion to cast a Ward, which is just the universal motion for stop, the book starts to burn away.
"Come on then, no lollygaggin'." a guardswoman calls to me, noticing I've trailed behind. She waits for me to catch up and when I do we run to catch up to the others.
"The other guards and I are glad you're here. They say Talos favors you." she says, after we've caught up. "Surviving Helgen and helping the Jarl is no small feat my friend. I know it's asking a lot but we're hoping you can help us bring down that dragon."
"Right".
What do you say to something like that? Npcs aren't supposed to have things like hope or families. How do you tell someone that you'd be lucky to last five minutes? Thunder rumbles in the distance, unnecessarily ominous and well timed. Irileth and the rest of the company are posted behind the only thing that could be considered a rock for miles, waiting for us to form up.
"No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here." she says surveying ahead. "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."
It does look bad. Partly because it's badly needed repair for what looks like generations now but also because it's on fire now. The walls that remain standing form a crescent moon shape with the opening facing us as we approach, what's left of an old fort or outpost before it crumbled into just the Western Watchtower. The walls that remain are mostly turning into rubble but the few good sections that have height have some kind of stairs to them for lookouts. The main tower, to my dismay, has a massive hole in it that I'm not convinced the dragon caused, so that's only less option for cover. A disheveled guardsman with a shaved head crawls just beyond the doorway of the tower to shout at us.
"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"
"Guardsman! What happened here? Where's this dragon? Quickly now!" Irileth demands, sword out.
"I don't know!" the guardsman desperately replies. There's a stain on his trousers and what I'll mercifully describe as the scent of fear coming from him.
"Kynareth save us, here he comes again!"
A roar echoes from the southern mountains. Sure enough the the dragon appears, gliding down in a straight line towards us. It's not blot out the sun big, only one dragon is that size, but it's still massive, like a flying inn.
"Here he comes! Find cover and make every arrow count!" Irileth says, her voice cracking.
We scramble. I look desperately and determine that the tower will provide the best cover- it has almost no burning debris. Some of the guards took to the exposed walls.
"GET OFF THE GOD DAMN WALLS!!!" I scream, mind flashing to Imperials getting snatched at Helgen.
Those on the wall nearest me move, but those on the far side either don't hear me or don't care. Only when the dragon swoops overhead and knocks some of them over with just sheer wind pressure does everyone abandon the walls.
"I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" comes a rumble from above, chuckling as the little yellow people scramble below him.
In a quick turnabout maneuver the dragon lands with a rumble just behind the south wall so hard the ground shakes even where I'm standing, just between a gap of the tower and the north wall. Before I can regain my balance a gout of fire lights up the night as screams fill the air.
Before I can even line up a shot with my bow the dragon takes flight, pushing a cloud dust in my face, forcing me to recoil. I can hear bowstrings twang as others behind me fire arrows but I have no way of knowing if any of them hit. As I clear my eyes there's also a crack of intense static as Irileth fires off bolts of blue electricity, which even I can tell are making contact.
"You are brave. Bahlaan hokoron. Your defeat brings me honor." comes a skyward rumble.
The battle slows down and enters a stalemate. The dragon strikes at us in hit and run fire bombings and we take pot shots as it flies by. Neither tactic really does any damage. We are too entrenched and mobile while the dragon is only really vulnerable for just seconds at a time.
This goes on for many minutes until the dragon changes tactics. Staying far far up in the air he hovers, testing the range of our arrows. When he is satisfied he hangs there in the air for a moment before letting out a small ball of fire from his mouth. It travels slowly getting closer and closer to our position. We're fascinated by the strange ball, morbidly so, until we realize it's picking up speed and size too late. There is an explosion when it lands and the entire south wall is obliterated, unusable as even a slap dash fortification. Though no one was on top of it, the resounding explosion sent rocks and fire everywhere, downing many men.
Irileth and I share a look of utter devastation.
This is the beginning of the dragon's new campaign against us, blowing apart any chunk of rubble that could hide so much as a field mouse from him. Only the tower was untouched, which confused me at first, but then I realized it would probably be the easiest structure for the dragon to take down when he felt like it. It already had a great big hole in it so I already didn't feel it was very safe, and I think my fellow survivors felt the same way.
The dragon changes tactics, board of the slow bombardment. He lands opposite the tower where the walls had already disappeared to time. There are maybe six of us left, seven if you count me. The dragon walks towards the north wall, little more than an aggregate pile now, getting closer until he can crane his great neck around each side of the pile and hose the guard hiding there with fire. He's picking us off one by one.
I can do the math. I'm the only one here who has a shot at surviving the dragon for longer than a second. At least the other men can fire their bows with some degree of skill. Seeing no other alternative I set myself in the center of these ruins, a shiny metal target that the dragon can't resist.
"Krif krin. Pruzah!"
He accepts my challenge. Turning up his head away from the burning guard he twists his whole body to face me atop the ruins of the north wall. The dragon only regards me for a split second before bathing me in his consuming fire. I cast my Ward with both hands, hoping to survive this burst of flame. His fire breath isn't endless, he can only maintain it for a few moments before he has to recharge. Fire flows on either side of my body redirected by the ward but I take no damage save for the heat that radiates on my sides. The blast ends and I stand there, no worse for wear. The dragon stares at me tilting its head like a confused dog before taking to the skies.
"Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde!"
The dragon tries its old tactics on just me this time, strafing, spraying and blasting the ground where I stand. To my surprise my Ward holds strong, deflecting everything the dragon throws at me while barely making a dent in my magicka. I don't know why but I seem to be invincible to the dragon's breath. But not, it seems, to the ground.
The floor is becoming dangerously hot. Before I realized it, the earth and dirt around me isn't just being scorched by fire, its oven hot. Sweat pours down my armor and I have to be careful where I put my feet now, I can only stand on a small circle of Earth. The dragon comes again with another strafing run while lightning dances in the clouds. It takes a lower flight path to get as much fire onto me as possible.
A bolt of lightning cracks on the dragon's head not from the sky, but from the earth. The beast falters and crashes into the tower, right in the open hole The upper level crumbles and scatters with the trajectory of a dragon shaped missile, the monster indistinguishable from the wreckage that fell with it.
The remaining men and I stand waiting for a moment. Only Irileth is brave enough, or whole enough, to check behind the tower. The rest of the guards limp out of their various hiding places while I contend with the heated ground. Rain is setting in, turning the heat into steam, forcing me to run from it before I choke. Blisters form and deform as I heal my feet through being cooked like steaks. Free of the panic I can hear the sounds of continued battle as I heal my poor feet.
A dark humanoid shape slumps along the ruins of the tower after a few moments. It's Irileth holding the bleeding stump of her left arm and staggering away from the commotion. I run to support her from the unburnt side.
"I got careless." she admits through gritted teeth. "I thought I could get in close and avoid its fire. I got my arm ripped off instead."
Golden light envelops her form. To my amazement her arm starts to regrow while we walk. I did not know Healing could do that. She grunts as the arm starts to expand out and gain more defining features. When it's done she flexes her naked arm a few times and straightens up. I guess that's why I haven't seen any amputees in Skyrim.
"That's better but I'm low on magicka. Spells seem to be the only thing that work. Its scales are like iron." she says.
"What if we had a sharper sword?"
An oblivion gate swallows my hand for a moment and the next my Bound Sword materializes transparent in my hand. A black sword with red glowing insides, wicked curves and sharp points everywhere. No mortal smith would create such a design willingly, but these weapons are said to have souls of their own. It's see through because it's not really here, only borrowed from some plain of oblivion hitherto unknown. I offer it to Irileth. Her arm is much stronger.
"Do you have a plan?" she asks, accepting the blade.
"I'll be the shield, you be the sword." I say, pulling out my new Imperial shield.
We run together around the ruined tower to find the dragon blasting a stream of fire into the entrance of the single story tower. The rocks around the entrance glow like an oven. Even if the men are safe from the fire they might just bake alive like I nearly did moments earlier. As we are the only moving things outside of the tower we get spotted immediately.
"Get behind me!" I scream.
Irileth complies standing directly behind me moments before the dragon streams fire on us. We push forward against the flames, not taking damage but being pushed by the sheer force of the fire. When it ends we're right in front of the dragon's face. Confused, the horned beast regards me with a head tilt like a puppy. Then anger flashes over its scaly face and it lunges for a bite.
I thrust the whole of my shield in its mouth, wedging the diamond kit shield inside. There's a crunch as it tries to bite down, but it's unable to destroy my shield. Then it tries fire, blasting fire briefly from the sides of its mouth as my shield deflects the stream at the source. This seemed to hurt it but with a great shake of the beast's head it manages to spit out my charred shield. Armed with only Ward and my Imperial sword I back up, unsure of what else to do.
To my relief the dragon rears back its head suddenly, giving me a clear look at Irileth on the beast's back. She slashes furiously at anything she can, working her way up towards the dragon's head. It's not dexterous enough on the ground to shake her off, multiple arrows in softer joint tissue have stolen what grace it has on land. It hops around feebly, perhaps unaware of how wounded it actually is. I take to its membranous wings and slash across, realizing its only escape would be the sky. The dragon realizes the same in that same moment and tries to fly, but only manages to stumble over, exposing itself. Irileth and I both find unprotected bits of the dragon and plunge our blades inside.
"Dovahkiin?! No!!"
The great wyrm slumps and almost immediately its flesh begins to burn up into flaky cinders.
We scramble away from the dragon as its body burns and rumbles. That rumble takes to the air and beautiful strands of energy, the color of brilliant ambers, fly through the air on unseen currents straight into my body and into my being. The process ends as quickly as it began and I'm left not really feeling a whole lot, only the dragon's dingy white skeleton remaining. The guards are starting to emerge, some from the tower and a few from the battlefield. Many are injured but they all stare at me instead of tending to themselves.
"I can't believe it. You're Dragonborn." one of the guards says, holding a limping comrade.
"Dragonborn? What are you talking about?" another, more soot covered guard asks.
"That's right! My grandfather used to tell stories about the Dragonborn." the limping guard says, bouncing on his one good leg. "Those born with the dragon blood in 'em. Like old Tiber Septim himself!"
"I never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons."
"There weren't any dragons then, idiot." the first guard replies. "They're just coming back now for the first time in... forever. But the old tales tell of the Dragonborn who could kill dragons and steal their power. You must be one!"
He's not wrong. I did do the thing and am the thing. The only problem is I don't feel a thing. I thought absorbing the soul of an eternally existing being who lived on the currents of time would feel different. Like anything. Instead, aside from a lack of abject terror due to the dragon's death, I feel the same as ever.
"What do you say, Irileth? You're being awfully quiet." says a fourth guard, a greying beard poking from under his helm.
The dark elf stares at the bones, lost in thought as if they were a burning campfire. She flexes her newly regrown arm a few times, the well developed muscles dancing as she does, still staring at the bones.
"Come on, Irileth, tell us, do you believe in this Dragonborn business?"
"Hmph." she says, tearing her eyes away. "Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you don't know anything about. Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me."
"You wouldn't understand, Housecarl. You ain't a Nord."
"I've been all across Tamriel! I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends." she rebukes.
"If you really are Dragonborn," the hobble guard says, "like the old tales, you aught to be able to Shout. Can you? Have you tried?"
"Umm…sure…fus?"
A small wave of force emanates from my lips and knocks the two guards clean on their asses.
"I am so sorry!" I say rushing over panicked. "I didn't think it would do that."
"That was shouting, what you just did!" he replies with a smile.
"You really are Dragonborn…"
The men forget themselves to stare at me with reverence, not talking. I stare back but only for a moment. This is now super awkward and I wanna leave. I start thinking of an excuse to leave when Irileth comes and hands me one.
"That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few. I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm sure glad you're with us. You better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here." she says.
"Right." I reply, needing no encouragement to dip.
Perhaps sensing my desire to not attract attention to myself the sky itself cracks with a quartet of thunderous voices, announcing my existence to the whole world.
"DOVAHKIIN!!!"
-
"So what happened at the watchtower? Was the dragon there?" Balgruuf asks.
Back in Dragonsreach I have the full attention of Jarl Balgruuf His usual entourage is here, minus Irileth, as well as his younger brother. Hrongar looks like Balgruuf if Balgruuf was a meathead with free time. Shaved head, war paint and a greatsword adorn his significantly more muscular body, along with a traditional hide armor with a goat skull pauldron.
"The watchtower is mostly rubble, we lost a lot of men and the dragon is dead." I answer.
"I knew I could count on Irileth. But there must be more to it than that." Balgruuf prods.
I really, really, realllly want to lie and say that was everything. I would adore keeping a low profile for my own reclusive sake. Alas I have at least five other witnesses who will tell him otherwise so it's better to come clean and at least earn the full brunt of the material rewards. This is why I came to Whiterun in the first place and I can't let my introversion stop me now.
"I uh, absorb something from the dragon when it died. The men said I was Dragonborn." I answer.
"Not just the men. The Greybeards seem to think the same thing." Balgruuf says.
"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" Hrongar says excitedly. "That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in ... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!"
"Hrongar, calm yourself." Proventus interjects. "What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this so-called 'Dragonborn'."
"Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed-up ignorant-these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"
"Hrongar. Don't be so hard on Avenicci." Balgruuf says with a barely concealed smile.
"I could shout if you'd like." I offer mindlessly.
"Really?" Balgruuf says. "Uh, as much as I'd like to see that, I'd rather not have my palace destroyed. You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor."
The mighty Jarl reclines in his chair, the weight of recent events having both taken their toll and been lifted in one single day. A great sigh leaves him as his eyes unfocus. He looks positively relaxed now. If anyone else in the court noticed the change they certainly don't show it.
"I envy you, you know. To climb the 7,000 Steps again... I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that? High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before." Balgruuf ruminates. "No matter. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you."
The Jarl inhales as he straightens up, eyes refocused, remantling his office. This time the court does notice and everyone straightens up in response. I realize now that that monologue counted more as a personal conversation than an official one.
"You've done a great deed for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn." he says, dismissing me.
"Back to business, Proventus. We still have a city to defend."
"Yes, my lord.
And with that everyone ignores me, for the first time since I've gotten here. It's a little spooky and a little sad but it's also the freedom I've wanted since I woke up on the road to Helgen. Well it's the closest thing to freedom you can have when you're a doom chosen demigod in a prolonged deathmatch with the physical manifestation of the apocalypse. The axe he gave me is nice too; fire enchanted with a beautiful flowing runic style. I walk slowly and mindlessly towards the exit, admiring my ax, before being stopped.
"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honor to serve you."
Shit. I forgot about her.