Chapter 11: Whiterun
"Halt"
One of the guards stepped forward with a loud command, "The city is closed with the dragons about. Official business only," he said, standing firm.
"I have news from Helgen about the dragon attack," I said, trying to sound convincing, not like I was making it up.
The guard paused and looked at his friend behind who nodded, "Fine, but we'll be keeping an eye on you." He said, then opened the gate.
I stepped inside the city, which looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Having seen all this in the game a thousand times made it familiar, but standing here—breathing in the woodsmoke, the cold air, and the faint scent of tanned leather—it felt completely different.
This Whiterun was a city that could house a population of three to five thousand—its streets crowded with people going about their business
The small stone bridge past the gate was flanked by large, unlit fire pits on both sides. Beyond that, the cobblestone path wound through the city, stretching from Warmaiden to the Plains District marketplace in a snakelike curve.
I crossed the bridge and overheard a soot-covered woman talking to a man wearing Imperial armor.
"We'll pay whatever it takes. But we must have more swords for the Imperial soldiers." Idolf said, his tone anxious.
"I just can't fill an order that size on my own," Adrianne said, refusing to take on such a huge order on such short notice.
"Why don't you swallow that stubborn pride of yours and ask Eorlund Gray-Mane for help?" Adrianne suggested, leaning against the wooden pillar of her store.
Idolf snickered, "Ha! I'll sooner bend my knee to Ulfric. Besides, Gray-Mane would never make steel for the Legion."
Adrainne sighed, pressing her head against the pillar, "Fine, I'll take the job, but don't expect a miracle." she agreed, extra money was never a bad thing.
Idolf nodded and left after giving her a large coin purse. As I was walking past her, she yelled, "Hey." I turned to her, my finger pointing at my chest, my expression asking Me?
She nodded. I stepped toward her. "Are you headed up to Dragonsreach?" she asked.
"I was—until you stopped me," I said, with a smirk that seems to be always on my face.
Adrianne looked away, embarrassed. "Would you mind doing me a favor?" she asked, regaining her composure.
"What is it?" I asked, confused.
"I just finished my best piece of work," she said and disappeared from my sight, going to the back of her store, toward the smithy.
She returned with a greatsword in her hand, "This one," she said, raising it toward me, "I made it for the Jarl, Balgruuf the Greater. It's a surprise, and I don't know if he'll accept it or not. But…" She paused, a little hesitant.
"Listen, can you take this to my father, Proventus Avenicci? He's the Jarl's steward. He'll know the right time to present it to him." She finished speaking, her closed lips silent, her eyes expectant.
"What do I get for this errand?" I asked. Honestly, I felt a little disrespected being given a courier's job.
Adrianne fell into thought. "I can give you 20 coins," she said. The edge of my lips twitched, but I calmed myself. "How about you teach me your craft?" I asked her.
"You got yourself a deal," Adrianne agreed almost instantly. She had work to do and a store to handle. And since she accepted Idolf's request, it would be hard, but not anymore; there was no better way to get extra hands than someone looking to learn.
I just need to try smithing to see how much difference it makes to my levels. And because I wanted to smith my own armors and weapons, I thought.
I took the sword from her hand, and with a shimmer, it disappeared into my inventory. Adrianne's breath hitched. "You're a mage?" she realized, with a finger on her chin. "Looking to work as a Smith?"
"You're a strange man." She murmured.
I walked away from her while she muttered half-conciously. I shook my head. What if I took the sword for myself? I glanced back at Adrianne to see her busy herself on the work bench. Too pessimistic.
While my mind was on Adrianne and the System that showed me the greatswords stats, I bumped into someone. Eek! I heard the sound of a woman's yelp. I looked at her. "I'm so sorry," she said before I could get a word out.
She quickly crouched down to pick up the apples she had dropped. Phew! I wasn't the only one distracted. I helped her collect the apples in her basket.
As I dropped the last of it back in the basket, I finally got a look at her, She was a young imperial woman with sleek, straight black hair; she wore a brown tunic, laced in front, and a belt around her waist.
Carlotta Valentia
Carlotta? Does everyone look like they walked off a runway? I wondered, curious, not disappointed nor complaining. Suddenly, the image of Sven's mother entered my head. Yeah, not everyone. I shuddered, remembering the Hagraven look-alike.
I turned my focus back to her. Her brows furrowed, looking at the apples, "I just got them from the farm, and now all of them are spoiled."
She looked up at me with frustration, her lips parting and closing, as if trying to blame me but not finding the reason.
Before I could say anything, she went to her stall, setting the basket to the side and losing herself in work.
I sighed, looking around at the busy market as people readied their stalls, as if decorating them to stand out more.
The buildings surrounding the market were the Bannered Mare Inn, Arcadia's Cauldron, an alchemist, and Belathor's General Goods, as you might have guessed, a general goods trader.
After I had finished admiring my new reality and the bustling market, I climbed the stairs up to the Cloud District. I stepped under the blooming Gildergreen tree, with three benches placed around it; the tree provided shade to them from the early sun with its branches and pink leaves.
To the right of me was Jorrvaskr, the ancient and honored mead hall that served as the headquarters for a mercenary company called the Companions.
Jorrvaskr's roof was built with a longboat, placed upside down, in which Ysgramor had returned with five hundred of his companions from Atmora.
I could see the Skyforge's bird head peaking from behind the corner of the building.
To the left corner of Jorrvaskr was the statue of a man in armor, a winged helmet on his head, his sword's tip pointing at the snake-like monster, whom he held down under his left foot.
Behind the statue of Talos was the giant keep, Dragonsreach. It stood tall as if placed above the clouds.
Trust in me, Whiterun! Trust in Heimskr! For I am the chosen of Talos!
A man screamed just below the shrine of Talos, wearing yellow robes. His face was covered with a hood, but his voice was loud, albeit hoarse.
Same as I remember, I chuckled.
I turned to the left, there was the temple of Kynareth, and in the center, were the stairs surrounded by pools of running water leading up to Dragonsreach.
***
I climbed the steps, passing the flowing pools until I finally reached the gate, stepping inside without issue. The hall echoed as I stepped past the feasting tables toward the empty throne.
The Jarl wasn't here yet; no one was, except the guards. I waited for a bit until a Dark Elf walked down from the war room upstairs. Her eyes fell on me, and she approached with a hint of suspicion and a lot of caution.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice commanding.
Instead of answering her question, I was admiring her. Her skin was ashen, her eyes a piercing crimson that held more judgment than welcome.
Irileth
"I asked you something?" Her voice brought me back to Nirn. "I have news from Helgen. About the dragon attack," Her caution eased, her furrowed eyebrows went from suspicious to anxious.
"That explains why the guards let you in. Come sit, The Jarl will be here soon." She said, gesturing to a chair beside the feasting table.
I shook my head, refusing to take a seat. "Suit yourself," she said and stood beside me, waiting for Balgruuf to arrive.
"Mind yourself in front of the Jarl, or we'll have serious problems," she murmured. I felt her gaze flick to me every now and then as we stared ahead in silence.
"Like what?" I asked, my tone playful. She turned to me, catching the whimsicality on my face, and turned away, "I could have you executed." She said.
I turned to her; the slight smile on her face eased my heart. Phew!
"By which means?" I asked, still joking around.
"Does that matter?"
"It does," I replied. "How do you wish to die then?" she asked, curious, though she could speculate. With a sword in hand, she thought in a brute's voice, remembering all the Nords she knows saying the same thing.
"How about… Never?" I said. Irileth turned to me, quite surprised by the answer, "You're not like the average Nord running around Skyrim with a sword in hand, wishing for death, eh?"
"And you're not an average Dark Elf, eh?" I said, "Let me guess, you guard the Jarl?" I added.
"You have quite the sharp eyes," she said. "Balgruuf and I share a Battle bond. We met as youths on a battlefield. Our friendship was forged with blood and steel. When he became Jarl, I insisted on becoming his housecarl. He had no cause to argue—" she suddenly stopped, realizing her unusual behaviour.
Why am I blabbering on with this man? She thought.
"I'd say you're no different from the average Nord with a sword in hand wishing for death; however, in your case, the death is of someone else's." I chuckled. Irileth followed. She's much more pleasant here than in the game. My eyes flickering to her pointy ears, waking something inside me.
Suddenly, we heard footsteps echo on the wooden floor. I saw a man with golden hair and beard walk in from upstairs, flanked by two guards and followed closely by a man in fine green tunic—Proventus.
Baalgruuf the Greater
He looked exactly like I remember—stern face, tired eyes. His presence made the guards straighten up a little more.
Irileth stepped forward as Balgruuf stepped toward the throne. "My Lord, this man also has news from Helgen."
Also?
That made him pause. His gaze shifting to me, sharp and weighing. "From Helgen?" he repeated, descending the few steps to stand more level with me. "Speak, traveler. What happened?"
.
.
.