Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

Aerys heard Brogan shout out to Maximus of his decision. Aerys looked down at his steed.

“Two bandits with one fireball.” Aerys muttered “Oh boy.” Hreod snorted aggressively and pawed the ground with one heavy hoof. “My thoughts exactly. Very eager to please, or for battle. Still, at least he’s planning ahead.”

Maximus soon strode over towards him. Aerys looked down at him from his steed, but the Centurion didn’t seem to mind.

“Brogan has made his decision.” he announced.

“Really?” Aerys asked sarcastically. “I couldn’t tell seeing as he practically shouted it to the whole fortress.”

“Order’s an order.” Maximus replied, a slight look of indignation on his face.

Ah, see this is the sort of man the Legion needs more of.

“I’ve wounded you.” Aerys grinned subtly “Forgive me. It’s been a very long night.”

“Agreed.” Maximus nodded. He didn’t seem the kind of man to be angry, far too sensible for that. Aerys glanced over at Brogan, who had spoken briefly to the Bosmer scout - Her name’s Fara then? – commanding her to summon someone called Lyrial, before striding over towards the Centurion and Aerys.

“Aerys, I’ve made my decision as I’m sure Maximus here told you.” Brogan announced.

“I know. I heard you shout across the courtyard.” Aerys replied.

“Tribuni, there remains the matter of when to move out.” Maximus addressed, getting straight to business. “The prisoners will be moving out as soon as they are all loaded and the garrison force shall be obviously remaining. I’m assuming that your remaining men shall be inducted into my century, which is obviously at your command.”

“Obviously.” Aerys repeated sarcastically.

“My point,” Maximus continued without dropping a beat “is that we’ll have to move out soon. My men have marched for a few ours, but our pace was relatively gentle and we can march again along the roads if our pace is slow, as it will be if we accompany the wagons. Your remaining men are another matter however. They may prefer if you waited until tomorrow to head out.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” Aerys said, drawing looks from both Maximus and Brogan. “Wait until tomorrow eh? Pess on that. Move out with the prisoners, that way the extra fifty men can join our little cohort. Our men are still good for a march – they’re fairly fresh. Your men however…” Aerys looked over at the wagons. “They’re tired and wounded, so we can put most of them into a few of the wagons. If it means a few prisoners have to walk, so be it, Legion comes first.”

“If that is the case, I’m sure my cavalrymen will surrender their mounts for the journey back to Solitude for your wounded and tired men.” Maximus added.

“See? Then we can all rest in the relative comfort outside the walls of Solitude before heading off to Dragonbridge.” Aerys replied. “Unless you have any issues of course?”

He noted the Bosmer scout accompanied by the female battlemage that he recognised from earlier. Aerys grinned on the inside.

Ah, so we’re all in cahoots with each other then. Well ain’t this a nice little family vibe we’ve got going here?

“Looks like you’re two favourite soldiers are back.” Aerys said in a tone that could be seen as genuine or sarcastic depending on the listener’s disposition. “They’ll be able to hear your decision. Careful now, say a wrong thing and we’ll have a mutiny on our hands…”

Brogan the Tall, Fort Hraagstad, Haafingar

Brogan wasn't too sure how he should word out his reply.
What's the worst that could happen he said to himself.

"No, we'll leave tomorrow. My men will appreciate a night's rest, the wounded and prisoners can leave whenever" said Brogan.

"But of course if this is okay with you, Aerys?" he added with a sneer.

This may be a long day he thought, but wasn't about to give up without a fight.

Vanion Greenleaf, Bannered Mare, Whiterun Hold

Vanion strode into the Bannered Mare, he was on edge. The dragon could be anywhere, waiting for the right moment to attack.

"Vanion, what's going on?" asked Hulda, the innkeeper.

"The guards and militia are beginning to assemble, no sign of the beast though" he said glumly.

He took a seat, and asked for some cider. As he sipped his drink he thought about the coming hours, would he live to see tomorrow. Would his friends die and he live. He hoped all would go well but he wasn't too sure, fighting a dragon wasn't something to look forward to. At least not for brave or foolish warriors. He wondered how Aedan and Ned were fairing, he even thought about Targon and Bjorn.

"It's going to be a long night"

LYRIAL
-Fort Hraggstad-

Miq'a seemed a lot more solid, and even vaguely wolf coloured, as Fara scratched her ears. The familiar seemed to change depending on the atmosphere and the mood of her mistress. For now, she acted much like a tame hunting dog, pushing her head up against Fara's hand, tongue lolling at the attention.
Lyrial, meanwhile, sat up and palmed the sleep from her eyes as best she could, nodding along silently to Fara's words.

"I see. I guess we'd better report post haste," she said quietly, although a slight grimace made it clear she shared Fara's opinion of the situation. She also nodded as they walked and Fara continued in ah used voice. "Understood. Perhaps you should ask Aki along too. He seems to be one of the only veterans around, meaning he probably has his wits about him."

She went silent as they left the Barracks. She remained so as Aerys half-addressed them, and let her face show no expression. She merely marched up, saluted and remained at attention, Miq'a stood alongside her.

(Just a short one until NPL makes a post)

Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

Aerys raised an eyebrow at Brogan’s sneering comment, casting a brief glance to Lyrial and Fara, before returning his gaze to the Nord.

“They’re your men I suppose.” he replied casually. “Just remember, each moment we waste the Stormcloaks will use to their advantage.” His face was set in its default expression of stern disapproval. “But you’re right. Since when has one day made any difference?”

Oh I could tell you some stories.

He then looked over at Lyrial and Fara. Neither of them looked like they’d slept much.

“You look terrible.” he said, without a hint of either insult or sympathy in his voice. “Hard night I take it? Well, nothing can be done about that now.” Herod snorted and locked eyes with the battlemage’s familiar.

“Huh. Never seen him warm up to something before.” Aerys mused, before looking back at Lyrial. “Quite a fine beast you have there. Must be handy in a scrap.”

“If I may, Queastor.” Maximus said to Brogan, polite as ever “Perhaps you’d like to address the reason why you have summoned these fine young troops.”

“Indeed.” Aerys agreed. “I’m sure young” – damn, what’s her name – “Lyrial here is dying to know why you called for her specifically.” He met Brogan’s gaze.

Fara, fort Hraggstad

When the man basically demolished Brogan's notion of moving tomorrow, she repressed an urge to try her new sword on the bastard. His insistence on marching Brogan and what was left of his men into battle without rest nor refit went too well with her suspicions. She stomped on the urge and decided to open her mouth.

“May I ask some questions sir ? I mean, I'm a scout and I'm supposed to learn as much as I can about how an army's working to help figuring out what's going on. I have some troubles to understand what sort of fighting power a long dozen of somewhat wounded sleepwalking recruits in half-trashed gear is supposed to add to two unshaken and experienced centuries. And if time is of the essence, why not move a century out of Solitude and swap ? Or even better having sent Brogan and his century along with the garrison and supplies and the centurion's one to Dragonbridge yesterday. One day late to hit the bandits, but two days early to hit the Dragonbridge camp.”

Fara paused, then decided to keep asking. I'm already in for a sheep, might as well go for the whole herd. Can't get much deeper in trouble. “I mean, if the idea's to punish someone for not jumping when said 'frog', that would be mostly me and my loud mouth, not the whole unit. They walked their neck into the noose when ordered to, they deserve better than that.”

Brogan the Tall, Fort Hraagstad, Haafingar

"Fara, you make some good points but let us deal with it hmm?" he said.

I doubt she'll take that nicely thought Brogan. He looked at Aerys and the man's earlier comment came into his mind "Careful now, say a wrong thing and we’ll have a mutiny on our hands…”

"On the other hand, I respect you, not many recruits would have the nerve to say such things to their commander"

"Are you familiar with scouting? If so my good lady I invite you to take command of our scouts, no that would be your scouts if I shall correct myself" he said with a smile.

He turned to Lyrial, "Ah yes Lyrial, as you may or may not know the General has sent our friend here, Aerys to accompany us. I would have you be his assistant, adviser whatever you want to call it, make him welcome and also you shall take orders from him for now on"

"Is that understood?" he asked both of them.

OOC: Sorry for the sloppy post, in a hurry and just want to get this on the move.

Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

Aerys nodded approvingly when Brogan dismissed the young Bosmer’s questioning.

Might be smarter than he looks. Aerys thought to himself when Brogan sort-of complimented Fara for questioning her commanders; that Brogan respected her nerve, but it was the part about new recruits questioning their commander’s orders that Aerys focused on.

“For good reason.” Aerys added to Brogan’s comment, before muttering “Nerve indeed.”

We’d have been beaten back into line with the Centurion’s staff if we put a toe out of line back in my old company – not to mention dealing with the Prefect afterwards…

He said nothing when she was suddenly promoted to head of the scouts. Aerys looked over at Maximus and gave him a telling look, the old centurion’s face was a mask, though his eyes glinted with wisdom.

Either this little Bosmer woman did exceptionally well in this siege, or Brogan is trying to… bribe her?... for her silence.

However, at the next piece of news, Aerys gave the female battlemage – Lyrial – a suspicious stare. Something about her didn’t sit right with Aerys. He didn’t like it, and chances were she didn’t like it either. Brogan was either making an effort to appease Aerys by assigning him a little helper, or wanted one of his troops to keep an eye on him. Judging by how fiercely she’d challenged Brogan on the night Aerys had first seen her, he guessed it was former – he imagined Brogan thought he was doing her a favour by giving her, in what in his mind Brogan must have seen as, an honourable task. That alone gave Aerys pause – if she was willing to challenge a man with the rank of Queastor, what amount of loyalty would she show to a man with the rank of a lowly centurion?

Aerys decided that if Brogan was paying close attention to those two, than so too would he. He’d speak to the surviving legionnaires who’d besieged the fortress and learn what he could about their involvement.

Got to keep an eye on those two.

“Well then.” Aerys finally said, his tone sarcastic “Looks like our esteemed commander here has spoken. The troops shall rest here for the night, and we’ll all answer to our various charges.” He met eyes with Brogan, rather than watching the other’s reactions. “I wasn’t suggesting we march blindly to Dragonbridge you know.” he added “We could have been back in Solitude by nightfall and had plenty of time to resupply and rest there before heading off to Dragonbridge. But this will suffice I suppose.”

“I’ll go tell some of our men to head back to Solitude now with the prisoners and your decision.” Maximus announced, placing a fist to his chest and nodding before going over to report to the prisoner guards. Aerys watched for a moment as one of the men – a Decurion from the looks of him, received his orders and gave the nod. The wagons steadily began to trundle out of the courtyard with their prisoner cargo. Aerys watched for a moment, the old centurion Maximus moving among the new garrison force and assigning them duties.

“Well then you two.” Aerys said after a time, looking over to the pair of Lyrial and Fara. “What say you?”

Fara, fort Hraggstad

Fara wasn't surprised by Brogan's refusal to explain his orders, and even les by Aery's muttered comment. Which did very little to assuage her suspicions. Let's hope that whoever told the Stormcloak we were coming to clear the fort won't get the chance to warm the Dragonbridge camp. Otherwise we'll find it either empty or filled with a few extra hundreds. And probably a wiped out century in the latter case...

Fara felt a surge of incredulity when Brogan offered her to command the scouts – which turned to something close to panic when her fatigue-clouded mind finally concluded he was serious about it.

'Scouting, that's not very different from the hunting I've been doing for twenty ears before being signed in, but I'm not good with the snow and cold. And frankly I've never commanded even a dog. No idea if I'd be good or not at it. A handful of scouts in the field, I can probably handle that, if only by leaving them in the dirt at playing hide and seek. But garrison or line troop things, like paperwork, spit and polish or rank-and-file drills... I don't need a peek at the Elder Scrolls to know I'm going to svck at it.' She shrugged 'Your call if what I'm good at is enough to make up for where I'm not.'

Fara raised and eyebrow when Aerys asked for her and Lyrial's opinion. 'My take on it is that we need both today and the night's rest, and that's the bare minimum. They're recruits, most of them haven't done anything more violent before he last night than a tavern brawl or wringing a chicken's neck. Just in one fight each of them has killed more guys than many soldiers would in a tour of service. Got wounded for most of them. Taken the sort of casualties that would send most units running for the hills. And to make it even worse, they've had to clean up afterward.' Fara made a gesture toward the blood soaked courtyard.

'What I'd do would be to use the garrison to finish the cleanup and let those who fought sleep till noon, then get as much warm water as possible to get both the men and their gear clean. The best meal that can be cooked, fixing our gear and reorganizing, another good meal and enough booze to get everyone sound asleep through the night.'. She thought for a few seconds before adding 'And once in solitude, I'd go for a warm bath, another good meal and a night in real beds. That should be enough to get at least a semblance of morale back.'

LYRIAL

Fort Hraggstad

Lyrial seemed blank for a moment, before glancing momentarily down at Miq'a. The familiar had been watching Aerys since the start of the conversation, and only stopped when she seemed to give a minute nod.
"Understood, sir," Lyrial said, saluting with a fist to the chest and a bow of the head. "I don't have the experience needed to comment on tactics," she added, with a wry little smile aimed sidelong at Fara after her ramble. "But if the General trusts our new advisor, then I trust his judgement on what we should do."

Much better than yours, was the unspoken thought, before she glanced back and locked gazes with Aerys. Depending on how good he was at reading people, that brief look could speak volumes; Brogan has given me no reason to trust his judgement. I'm not sure I trust you, either. But I'm not judging yet. Either way, I aim to uphold my oath, both as a Legionnaire and a Shadowsong.
Other than that, she kept quiet. Miq'a simply sat by her mistresses heal, gazing unblinkingly at the three officers.

Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

Aerys listened to Fara’s suggestions. They seemed reasonable, if a tad opulent, at least to the spartan conditions that Aerys – and most legionnaires – were used to. Still, this was a green unit after its first battle, with many wounded and low morale. If the survivors were to be joining the other soldiers, they needed to be ready to fight rather than flee. Aerys couldn’t promise it would run as smoothly Fara had made it sound, but he’d come as close as he could. When Lyrial took her orders practically without question, and gave Aerys a confirming stare, he relaxed slightly.

Might be worth it after all.

“Well, I can’t promise it’ll be as easy as that. When I served, you were lucky to get a warm meal and any kind of bathing.” Aerys said, dismounting his steed and holding it by the reins “But it’s doable. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Maximus strode back over to them, helm tucked under his arm. “I’ve given the order for my century to make camp near the gates. Courtyard isn’t quite big enough to house them all, and the fortress will already be full with the new garrison and the survivors.”

“Right then.” Aerys nodded “I reckon you should address your men, brief them on what’s going on. I’ll get this place cleaned up, and starting doing something about feeding over two hundred men.”

“Excellent.” Maximus replied, heading over to the young legionnaire who was minding his steed and leading it outside the fortress. Aerys watched until he was out the gates. He liked the old centurion – reminded him of his commander back in the day, even if Maximus was many years older than his commander would be now. Aerys looked back to Fara, Lyrial and Brogan.

“So, Lyrial. Here’s your first duty. Take Herod and pitch him with the other cavalrymen’s horses.” he said, handing the reins of his brutish steed over to her. “He’s ill tempered, and might bite, so be careful. Right, I’ll go make all the necessary arrangements for a half-decent meal and get this place looking presentable.” Aerys started walking away from the trio, when he turned and met Brogan’s gaze.

“But of course, if this okay with you, Queastor?” he asked mockingly, imitating Brogan’s tone, but keeping his expression deadpan. He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing to make his way across the courtyard.

“Alright then you bastards!” Aerys shouted to the new garrison force “Clean this up! This is a legion outpost now, so I expect it to look like one, not like a den for a mindless rabble!” He looked about and saw a few other legionnaires.

“You lot, get all the necessary gear to cook for over two hundred men. We’ll be making a nice warm luncheon.” Aerys barked, gesturing towards the cart and pack mules. Ten legionnaires moved over towards the backage train. Aerys caught sight of the young legionnaire from earlier, the one who looked too young to be serving here.

“Boy, that means you too. Help us out.” Aerys said, his voice a little softer this time.

As the garrison force started to clean up the courtyard, Aerys aided the men in setting up their cooking gear in a corner out of the way. From the cart, they assembled a tent and a few long tables, which took them around twenty minutes. Then they grabbed the cauldrons and started making cooking fires – it would be a stew that they’d make. It was simple and, more importantly, easy to make for a large number of men. People may not have picked Aerys to be a cook, but his skills were above average.

“Boy, poke around the fortress, take a few men with you.” Aerys said “Start grabbing bowls, utensils, that sort of thing, yeah?”

“Yes sir.” he replied, patting two men on the shoulder and heading off to the keep with them.

Aerys then assembled his ingredients along with the others, entered the tent, picked a cauldron and began to make the stew. They had hours before lunch time, but this suited Aerys fine. They’d make a slow brewing stew with whatever they had; though each soldier carried about a week’s rations with them, extra supplies were handy for moments like this. He began to stir the stew in his big, deep cauldron, ten or so others doing the same. He spent his time moving around the tent, checking on their progress, helping out those who’s skill wasn’t quite solid yet (albeit with his usual sarcasm) and making sure the food stayed warm, occasionally wandering around the courtyard and inspecting the clean up’s process.

“Aye, this takes me back.” Aerys said to himself as he strode back into the tent and to his cauldron.

LYRIAL

Fort Hraggstad

Lyrial nodded at the order, casting a wary eye over Herod. He was, indeed, an ill tempered looking brute, the sort who had probably been a paragon of a warhorse in his prime. That seemed to have given way to a mean-streak, the sort of horse who would kick a blacksmith through his own wall and trample an incautious stablehand.

As she took the reins, she notice Herod already getting ready with both teeth and, more imminently, a raised hoof, that could 'casually' be brought down on someone's toes.
At least, that seemed to be the plan. Until Miq'a shifted suddenly into raven form and landed on the horses head with a sharp caw. And, while Herod was busy going cross-eyed to try and spot the non-animal thing now sat on his snout, Lyrial grabbed an ear and yanked it down to mouth level.

Whatever she whispered sharply in the horses ear was quiet enough to avoid being heard, but also just audible enough to clearly not be human. It also wasn't any Daedric tongue, and sounded far more like a tongue of Mer.
Herod froze for a moment and then, rather meekly, lowered the hoof into a normal step. Lyrial led him on with a thin smile, Miq'a still perched on the horses head.

Fara, fort Hraggstad


Fara wasn't surprised by Aery's 'back in my days' comment but didn't expect him to agree. 'Well, we aren't stuck in a vise with boatload after boatload of Dominion troops howling for blood'. She made a dismissive gesture 'Oh sure we shouldn't depend on creature comfort, but where's the arm if we can afford them ?' She stretched a bit, yawning and shaking her head to clear her mind somewhat. 'Since there's enough hand to get the job done today, I'll go for a nap. I certainly won't have the time to sort and patch my gear tomorrow, and I'd rather have a clear head and steady hands to do it this afternoon.'.

She gave a passable salute before heading first to the wall to get back the furs and bits of armor she had borrowed, then heading for the barracks. Since there wasn't any warm water ready, she decided to go for some sleep instead. She picked a convenient corner and pulled off her armor and boots, wincing as the motions awakened a lot of bruises and minor cuts. She arranged her pack as a makeshift pillow, covering it and the stone floor with the thickest cloak she had pilfered then laying down and burying herself under the rest. She barely had the time to wiggle into a comfortable position before falling asleep.

Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

The hours went by as the sun rose steadily higher. Every so often, someone would peek inside the tent to see how long the food was going to be, but Aerys would quickly shoo them off. He’d also questioned the men who were helping him cook about the performance of Lyrial and Fara in the previous battle. Of them, only two had been present – the young soldier, and a grizzled nord – but they both spoke well of the two women, particularly Lyrial’s impressive display of magic.

A Shadowsong hey? Hmm… Aerys kept his thoughts to himself, but he made sure to follow this up with other survivors; Aerys had an idea, but he wouldn’t act on it just yet.

Eventually, the large cauldrons of stew were ready – certainly enough for near two centuries of Legion soldiers, but not enough for everyone to have seconds. Aerys moved outside the tent and saw that someone had taken initiative and placed a few trestle tables end to end, piles of bowls and spoons spaced at intervals.

Ah, this soldier deserves a promotion.

“Okay then you lot.” Aerys said to the men in the tent. “That’s long enough. Set yourself up, we’ll start serving.” Aerys joined them in moving the cauldrons, and once they were all in position bellowed so that all the fortress might hear him.

“Alright you bastards! Food is ready! Get it now, and get it while it’s hot, for I’ll not be making more!”

Some of the legionnaires went into the fortress to inform the others, while some went to tell Maximus and his century. The majority of those standing nearby made a beeline for the food, forming ques in front of the tables, collecting their bowls and having the stew ladled into them. The stew didn’t have much flavour, or substance, but it was hot, and warmth counted more than taste. Still, it was better than standard rations.

Men started filling in from within the keep. As a rule they were tired, bloody and many were wounded. Some needed to be aided in getting their meals, and once obtaining them, sat down wherever there was space.

“Come on, come on!” Aerys shouted “Get it while it’s hot!”

Brogan the Tall, Fort Hraagstad, Haafingar

"Tomorrow shall be interesting" Brogan told himself, he was atop the battlements. Aerys was preparing dinner, not bad for just arriving.

“Alright you bastards! Food is ready! Get it now, and get it while it’s hot, for I’ll not be making more!”

Brogan saw the legionaries split into three groups, one went inside the fort to the inform the men, another bunch went off to tell Maximus while the rest ran straight to the tents. Brogan' stomach growled, he hadn't eaten much. He made his way over to the line and stood behind some soldiers, they looked at him and offered to move out of the way but Brogan told them not to worry. Not before long he was standing before Aerys.

"So my friend, what have we here?" he asked with a smile, "Is it stew? I love stew, my mother used to make it for me"

Fara, fort Hraggstad

Fara was awakened by both motions and voices in the fort. It felt like she had barely closed her eyes, but since they were announcing that the meal was ready, she had slept. A few seconds spent trying to coercion later she felt almost elated at having made done that conclusion so fast. Even if she still felt tired it was no longer the mind-numbing exhaustion that had ended the night. And fortunately I was too tired to dream. She shuddered as the hazy memories of the night surged back clearer than she would have liked.

She stirred from under her furs, looking around and stretching with a yawn. She started combing her hair with her fingers but stopped quickly when she felt something left over from the night which had managed to slip under the helmet. Yiik I don't even want to know what it is... From what she could overhear, there was some warm food but still no warm water. A nagging hollow sensation in her midriff decided her to go for a meal first. I'll care about what I look like after I've got my fill.

Fara decided to leave her gear where it was, simply wrapping the furs around anf tyng the whole in a bundle. Then she moved to the courtyard, letting out a groan as her injured leg made itself felt. From what she could feel, the cut was no longer bleeding but still a far cry from healed. Damn, I'll have to find Lyrial and ask her for a look and some magic on that, we're going ot have quite a walk in the days to come.

She squinted when she reached the courtyard. The sky had cleared and the harsh light reflected on the snow. The tents were a welcome sight, maskign at least some of the blood still soaking the trampled snow and mud. Fara noticed quite a few Legionnaires looking at her, though not as she would have expected from an essentially male crew. A quick survey made the reason obvious : even if she wasn't wearing her damaged armor, blood had seeped down to her clothes and down her leg. I don't even want to think too much about my hair. The helmet should have stopped the worst of it, but I think 'a bloody mess' would be a fair description...

Soo she had reached the nearest table and was give a steaming bowl of stew. She wasn't sure of what went into it, but it was warm. Tssk, could have made it a bit thicker, that things is bordering on a soup... Oh well, at least I haven't to fill a two hundred pounds nord carcass...

With her bowl and a spoon, Fara moved to the fort's eastern wall – the building torched in the night was still smoldering, it's embers offering a welcome warmth. She picked a convenient rock to sit with her back to the wall, not caring about the soot covering it. With all that's leaked through, what's a little soot added to the mess ? Nothing worth worrying about...

She dipped into the stews with unmitigated enthusiasm, keeping an eye on the courtyard to try spotting Lyrial. Now that I think of it, I'll snatch her to share the room when we clean up. I'm not a prude sort, but I'd rather not strip and wash with a bunch of guys getting a chance to peek. Better to have one keeping an eye on the door while the other gets clean.

Nikolai

Whiterun

Nikolai set his eyes forward, they fell upon a man gesturing for him “Hail neighbor!” the man said, his voice was pleasant enough. Though his expression was that of seriousness, and Nikolai didn’t think it became him as well as it did the others.

“I take it you wish to join the fight then? I am Aedan of Clan Longstride, son of Thane Targon of Whiterun.”...Hmm a lord... Nikolai inclined his head to him “And your name is?” the man continued.

“Nikolai” He held out a callused hand “Swift-Arrow, of the pale”

Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

Aerys doled out the stew as quickly and without fuss as he could. He didn’t look up at the recipients, focusing on the job of serving the meal so that they could get it done quickly. A bowl was passed to him a tad too slowly for Aerys’s liking, accompanied by a voice that Aerys should have recognised, but was too busy to notice.

“So my friend, what have we here? Is it stew? I love stew, my mother used to make it for me.”

“Your mother also made you a dim-witted tool, or was your father responsible for that?” Aerys replied casually, filling up the bowl and meeting the eyes of the speaker. “Oh, Queastor.” Aerys said just as casually as before “Didn’t recognise you. Used to talking to the boys you know. Right, next!”

Brogan didn’t look offended, but Aerys didn’t really give half a fig anyway, and continued to serve meals. He caught sight of Fara nearby, looking distinctly worse for wear.

Ah, right. Better get some warm water for bathing later… pah.

He looked around; still no sign of Lyrial. And he hadn’t heard Herod playing up either. Aerys’s cauldron was now empty, though a few of the others were still serving; Aerys was quick. He moved over to join another line and got a bowl of stew for himself. Looking around for a place to sit, he moved up onto the wall with his stew and took a seat on a small hunk of rubble. Wasn’t the finest meal he’d made, but it was good enough. From his vantage high on the walls, he could watch over the fortress and, more importantly, the occupants.

*******************

Ned Longstride… Whiterun – Wind District…

Night was falling, the time had almost come. Ned made his way over to the Western Wall. He was taller than his fellows and broader. Even among the tall and strong Nords, Ned was quite the specimen. But in his own mind, he wasn’t the record holder; Jon had been the true giant, over six and a half feet tall and twice as broad as the next man. He’d made wielding Sunstrike look easy. Now that blade hung from Ned’s back, the mighty greatsword’s scabbard clanking against his steel armour. His chainmail chinked with each step as he made his way over to a Hold Guard, also bearing a white war horn.

“Sound the call to arms.” Ned commanded.

“Aye my lord.” the hold guard nodded, putting the horn to his lips and making three short blasts.

Uuuoooooommm! Uuuoooommm! Uuuooooooooommmm!

Suddenly, the city was a flurry of activity as the soldiers began to make their way onto the walls and form ranks. They clattered and clanked, moving as quickly as they could to get into position. Groups of civilians were being led into the Longstride Manor, Bannered Mare and Dragonsreach. Ned made his way along the wall towards an open rooved, relatively short tower. In one hand he grasped the golden banner, the White Horse of Whiterun, and with the other he dew forth Sunstrike with a flurry and held it in his right hand, such was his strength.

“Warriors! Hear me!” Ned shouted, and the warriors, Longstride, Hold Guard and militia alike who were to be stationed on the western wall paused to hear his words. Ned couldn’t help but remember all of those years ago when it was he standing among the soldiers of the Legion, looking up at his elder brother Jon as he delivered a speech. He wasn’t as good with words as Jon had been, but he was going to speak nonetheless.

********************

Aedan Longstride… Longstride Manor – Wind District…

“Nikolai Swift-arrow, of the Pale.” the archer replied, shaking Aedan’s hand. Now everything that Aedan thought of the man fell into place; his grim demeanour, his rugged appearance. He was a man of wilds, a wandered from a harsh land. Even though the man barely looked like he’d reached his twenties Aedan knew better than to judge the man based on his youth. The Pale only bred two things; beasts and men. Nikolai looked as though he could be either.

“Well then, Swift-arrow. We need as many archers as we can get.” Aedan said, and for a moment, he thought of Farcha. He wondered where she was, and the promised he’d made to keep her safe sprang to mind.

Uuuoooooommm! Uuuoooommm! Uuuooooooooommmm!

Aedan looked up at the sound of the war horn, and men began to make their way towards their respective walls. Battle was imminent. Aedan met gazes with Nikolai.

“Come on then, Swift-arrow.” Aedan said “You’ll stand with me in this assault.”

He led the Paleman towards the Western wall, following the soldiers to where he would stand on the wall. As he did, Aedan saw Ned standing atop a tower, holding a banner and Sunstrike aloft.

“Warriors! Here me!” Ned shouted, and Aedan paused among the others to hear his older brother.

“Tonight, we face a great and terrible foe that until a few weeks ago, most of us considered to be little more than a legend. This beast is dangerous, and should be treated with caution and respect. But fear it not!” Ned continued. “We are the children of Skyrim, and we shall stand against this foe and emerge victorious! This is our home, and it will never fall while men defend her!”

The men cheered, a loud cry of pride and triumph at Ned’s words.

“What we do tonight, we do to protect our families, our loved ones! Be strong in that knowledge! With honour as your blade and courage your shield, we shall drive back this dragon and see a victorious dawn!” Ned shouted “Tonight we stand, for Whiterun!”

“For Whiterun!” they replied, raising their weapons.

“For Whiterun!” Ned repeated.

“For Whiterun!” came the reply, even louder than the first time.

“For Whiterun!” Ned bellowed, thrusting his blade skywards, and the men erupted into a cacophonous din of cheering. Aedan joined them, holding is own sword aloft. Ned looked upon him, a slight smile on his face, and met Aedan’s gaze. Aedan replied with a grin of his own. Ned said victory would be their’s, and Aedan believed every word of it.

LYRIAL

-Fort Hraggstad-

Lyrial was a little behind Aerys in the queue, having joined a little later. She looked a little better than she had earlier, although her face was still bruised. She hadn't been able to withhold a smirk as she over-heard the so called advisors remark to Brogan. She still had her doubts about the man, but he seemed like a much sharper mind and also wit.

She moved up and leaned against the wall besides Aerys, letting the stew cool a little as she glanced around the fort. Miq'a had taken up post on one of the flag-poles, her raven form occasionally shifting and hopping around to keep a watchful eye on the surrounding countryside.

"Are we still 'having no fear' of that Dragon we saw, then?" she asked eventually, voice quiet so that only the older man would hear her.

Fara, fort Hraggstad

Having finished her meal and basked for a while in the torched building's warmth, Fara felt significantly better. And free to focus on getting herself and her gear both clean and repaired. I'm not sure the clothes are salvageable enough for The Book. I can mend the holes, but with the blood that leaked and dried all over, I'm fairly sure some stains will linger on. Easy to understand while the Legion uses a dark red color for what's worn under armor. A browner shade would have been even better, but beggars can't be choosers. Now let's try to find Lyrial...

She stood up with a sigh, looking over for the battlemage. Which she soon spotted sitting upon the wall, apparently discussing something with Aerys after the meal. She headed that way, giving her bowl and spoon to the cleaning crew on her way, noting in passing that the cooking fires were now used to warm water. Soon she reached the pair.

'Excuse me, may I lure battlemage Lyrial away for a while ? We're about the only women there I think we'd better use the same room to get ourselves and our clothes at least somewhat clean. Without giving cause for gossips or monopolizing a room for too long.' Lyrial's clothes weren't as messed up as her own, but a night spent patching the wounded hadn't left the battlemage exactly pristine.

Fara pointed at her leg 'Oh and that will give me chance to have that wound checked over. It's been patched up, but I wouldn't trust it for a march to Dragonbridge.'

Aerys Borne… Haafingar – Fort Hraggstad…

Lyrial soon joined Aerys atop the wall, and the older Nord didn’t object. Either she was very committed to her new post, or there was a specific reason for her being up here. At first she said nothing, and Aerys watched as her familiar, Miq’a, taking a similar vigil over the fortress, fluttering about in raven form.

“Are we still ‘having no fear’ of that dragon we saw, then?” Lyrial asked quietly. Aerys exhaled in a silent, disapproving sigh, staring into his stew.

“You saw it too.” Aerys replied, his voice like gravel. “The damned bastard followed us most of the way. Never struck us, never even came close, but it followed us. In any case, I take it Brogan was the one who told you ‘have no fear’.” Aerys looked up, staring off into the middle distance.

“You know, when a commander tells his troops to ‘have no fear’, he doesn’t really mean be fearless. If one is not afraid, then how can he be brave? No, what they really mean is feel fear, recognise the feeling, then put it aside and carry out the task you were given. It’s just quicker to say ‘have no fear’.”

He held out his spoon in front of him, moving the tip through the air as though methodically slicing open a man. “Fear is what keeps a man alive, what allows him to see what really matters in his life and what doesn’t. If one is without fear, then one is as soulless as the daedra your family probably face.”

He met Lyrial’s gaze then. “Oh yes, I’ve heard about you, Shadowsong. Heard you put on quite the light show, or at least one more creative than our beloved Queastor.” He went back to watching out over the fortress.

“If you only take away one thing from me Shadowsong, let it be this; be brave but not fearless, in the end the greatest defence you have is a stout and courageous heart.” Aerys looked back over his shoulder into the wilderness beyond. “But don’t kid yourself… that thing’s still out there… somewhere.”

Footsteps announced Fara’s arrival. He didn’t even have to look up to know that she had a slight limp. When he did meet her gaze, he raised an eyebrow. Of the two, the Bosmer certainly looked like she’d gotten the hard end of the stick.

“Ah, and here we see our young scout master sporting the latest legion trend; Battle of the Red Ring aftermath.” he grumbled to Lyrial, not quite loud enough for the Bosmer to hear.

“Excuse me, may I lure battlemage Lyrial away for a while? We’re about the only women there I think we’d better use the same room to get ourselves and our clothes somewhat clean. Without giving cause for gossip or monopolising a room for too long.” Fara explained. Then she pointed at her leg. “Oh and that would give me a chance to have that wound checked over. It’s been patched up, but I wouldn’t trust it on a march to Dragonbridge.”

Aerys gave a single snort of laughter, little more than a ‘hmmph’.
“In the light, you really do look like hell.” Aerys said, his tone neither sympathetic nor harsh, just honest. “You’d have given some dominion troops a run for their money that’s for sure. Who knows? Maybe the Stormcloaks will get one look at you, soil their britches and the war will be over.” For a moment there was silence, before Aerys said “Hey, look at me scout.” and the Bosmer matched his gaze.

“I’m just teasing, girl.” he continued “Sure, lure away Shadowsong for as long as you need. Though I don’t think you’ll need to worry about what the other legionnaires think or say. Most of the boys in Max’s century are the chivalrous sort, not sure about the garrison men. Hold on, I think I’ll make your job a bit easier.” Aerys rose to his feet and tramped towards the edge of the wall.

Time for a bit of fun here.

“Alright then you miserable sods, listen up!” Aerys bellowed across the fortress, his voice turning many heads. He gestured to Lyrial and Fara. “These two wonderful young women have decided to freshen up a little before they march back to Solitude. So, while this is going on, I’ll not have anyone being a pervert or a peeping tom. If I catch anyone engaging in such activities, I shall personally sever their manhood, put them in a little sack and bring them out at parties as conversation starters, is that understood?!”

“Yes sir!” the men replied.

“Good! As you were, you bastards!” Aerys nodded, before turning back to Lyrial and Fara. “Right then, now that I’ve embarrassed you, off you go.” He gave a very brief smile, before tramping out along the wall, passing what was left of his stew on to a very eager and gracious legionnaire. He marched down the steps and out into the rows of tents and found the command tent of Maximus. He gave the two guards a brief nod before entering and seeing Maximus, sitting in a small wooden chair and sharpening his blade.

“Quite a voice you have Aerys.” he nodded when the Nord entered.

“Worked back in the day, still works now. Most legion commanders don’t do that anymore. Gods forbid you might shout too loudly and hurt the men’s feelings.”

“Indeed.” Maximus nodded, with no hint as to whether he agreed or not.

“Actually, I came here to discuss something with you. Something private.” Aerys muttered. Maximus motioned for him to sit in the chair next to him, and Aerys did so, leaning over so that the older centurion could hear. “I’ve been doing a little poking around. Listening in on conversations, getting information, and I have an idea.”

Maximus was quiet for a moment, pausing midway through passing the whetstone, but resumed his rhythm. “Go on.” the old imperial said in his venerable voice. And so, Aerys whispered to him of his idea, the elder centurion nodding and grunting where appropriate.

“So, what do you think then?” Aerys said when he was finished.
“Hmm. Well, it’s not really up to me.” Maximus said.

“They’re punching above their weight here, Maximus.” Aerys pointed out “Something must be done, and I think this is the way to do it.”

“It might not be seen as favourable.” Maximus pondered “But from what you’ve said, it would be the logical thing to do, if it’s true.”

“Logic be damned Maximus, it’s the right thing to do.” Aerys replied. “But it won’t happen unless you’re with me on this.”

Maximus looked as though he was giving this some serious thought. “How about, before we do something rash, we wait until after we strike at the Stormcloak camp near Dragonbridge. Then, judging by how things go down there, we’ll follow through with it.”

“Done.” Aerys nodded “I’ll hold you to it then.” He rose to his feet and started for the tent flap.

“Aerys?” Maximus called, and Aerys turned back to face him. “What of would happen if our Queastor found out?”

“Well, you and I are the only ones who know, and I’m not telling him…” Aerys replied. Maximus nodded his head in comprehension.

“Understood.” he said as Aerys left his tent. Aerys made his way through the camp and up into the fortress.

Better go and see if I can find Brogan. Makes me nervous when I don’t know where he is.

LYRIAL

Fort Hraggstad

The young battlemage nodded as she listened. She was steadily forming judgement on the old legionnaire, and that judgement was impressed.
"Thank you. Sir," she said eventually, after he finished speaking. Father would have liked to meet you. Same sense of duty, same sense of reality, she thought privately.

She nodded to Fara as the bosmer joined them, glancing at the leg as it was pointed out. She figured she could deal with the remaining injury fairly easily.
And then Aerys went and opened his mouth again. Lyrial's pale cheeks temporarily went as crimson as her uniform, glad for the hood that mostly obscured her face.
Same sense of humour, too...

Without another word she made to join Fara in whatever direction the bosmer had in mind for a place to get clean, just as Miq'a flew down and landed on her shoulder. She gave the familiar, which was apparently sniggering in a corvid kind of way, a glare.
"Don't know what you are laughing at," she mumbled under her breath.

Fara, fort Hraggstad

Fara shrugged at Aery's comment on her look 'I don't know if that would send them running, but I know for sure that it makes the fabric stiff and itchy. Add body heat and sweat and it's going to stink, for even more fun. Not exactly good thing for a scout be be able only to approach from downwind. Luckily there's little of mine in it.'

When Aerys commented aloud about his men's manners, she merely smiled. Unlike Lyrial, she was familiar with tavern-style bawdiness, and she didn't blush in the slightest. She replied, her voice carrying not as far but enough to reach a significant audience. 'If you want a real conversation starter, they're a amongst the women's share at a traditional bosmer victory feast. There's even a special recipe for the occasion, sauteed with spiced wine and honey to get them nicely brown, crispy on the outside and tender inside. I know the recipe and can prepare it if the occasion arises. But please no redguards Sir, the color makes it hard to tell when they're properly cooked.'

After the comment, Fara headed back to the keep, with Lyrial in tow. On her way she picked a bucket of warm water and handed it to Lyrial, then picked another for herself. Having about figured the barrack's plan, she headed for the keep, choosing what had been the bandit chieftain's room. It wasn't large, but more importantly for her purpose it had a fireplace that kept a nice temperature and a well fitted door.

Fara rummaged through the furniture, picking a wide and shallow tub, some towel and a piece of rough soap. She also a few clothes to wear while her own would dry – they were far too big, but she didn't intend to run for any fashion contest. 'Not exactly the nicest stuff, but it's better than nothing, and enough for what's to be done.'. She made sure the door was closed, then started pulling off her clothes, displaying a fairly impressive set of bruises. Far answered Lyrial' unvoiced question 'Arrows sticking in my armor, but the worst of it is from a Stormcloak chieftain. I managed to avoid his hammer and get into knife range, but he fell on top of me. Seven feet of nord brute, steel-clad as if he wasn't heavy and hard enough... I wouldn't mind if you could do something for the bruises along with my leg.'

She glanced at the wound and made a face – now that she had bared the wound, she could see it was red and swollen, despite the bosmer's resistance to toxins and diseases. 'blech, that doesn't look very good. It's probably better to reopen it and fix it right.'

Brogan the Tall, Fort Hraagstad, Haafingar

Brogan was enjoying the stew, it was a bit cold when he finally got it but he muttered a couple of words and it heated up to a agreeable temperature. He wasn't sure if he would get a night sleep, he'd probably have to prepare with the other leaders, that's when it struck him. He'd need to see Fara. He sensed a presence behind him and turned to see who it was.

Vanion Greenleaf, Whiterun City, Whiterun Hold

As Vanion left the inn the silence was broken.

Uuuoooooommm! Uuuoooommm! Uuuooooooooommmm!

It came from the west wall, he sprang into motion. He dodged soldiers and civilians in the way, almost bumping into a breton woman. As he came up the wall he saw Ned addressing the soldiers afterward Vanion stood beside him.

"My lord, I am at your command" he said with a chirpy bosmeri accent.