4E 201, Whiterun
Kiera Fendalyn
Whiterun was a beautiful city, set up in the middle of the largest plains in Skyrim. Its stone walls rise proud against the golden fields and wide, open skies.
A cold wind from the nearby mountains tugged at the banners lining the road, yet the early spring sun cast a golden hue over the farms and wheat fields stretching out from the city's edge. To Kiera, it felt strangely peaceful here.
The city's architecture was a blend of pragmatic Nord construction and subtle beauty: thick timbers reinforced longhouses and inns, while Dragonsreach loomed high above all. It was no wonder this hold was never conquered during the Great War.
She arrived just a week ago and had been welcomed into Whiterun swiftly the moment she told them the reason for her arrival. She had met the Jarl and recounted the harrowing tale of Helgen and the dragon's assault.
Jarl Balgruuf was a just ruler and a good man, immediately dispatching a detachment of guards before nightfall. The Jarl's steward, a balding Breton named Proventus Avenicci also raised legitimate concerns.
"I'll not sit on my hands while my people burn," he had declared, firm yet composed. "If Falkreath thinks a few guards in Riverwood means I've pledged to Ulfric's rebellion, then perhaps they're the ones looking for a war."
Kiera had admired that. There was honor in decisive action, and it was clear Balgruuf had no love for either side in the brewing civil war. He wanted peace—but not at the cost of inaction.
After that conversation, the Jarl had thanked profusely for her efforts and told her that she was welcome in Dragonsreach anytime. "Any Vigilant is welcome in our halls. Especially one that has done me a great service. If you need lodgings, come to the Bannered Mare and tell Hulda that your stay will be funded by the Jarl. It's the least I could do."
Though grateful, Kiera hadn't immediately accepted. But after some thought—and realizing how much she still didn't understand about dragons—she agreed. It seemed her path would remain in Whiterun, for now. She'd written a long letter to her mother that same evening, telling the reason for her long absence. With any luck, a courier would find the Hall of the Vigilants within the week.
When she stepped off the dais, the Jarl's housecarl, Irileth, a Dunmer woman wearing padded leather armor as well as a beautifully crafted steel longsword gave her a nod of acknowledgement, one warrior woman to the other. Kiera returned the nod with kind, before promising some sort of spar between the two.
Irileth had agreed without hesitation.
She was also introduced to the Court Mage, one Farengar Secret-Fire. It was very rare for a Nord to venture into the arcane arts. And from what she can tell, this Farengar was quite talented as well.
After telling the whole court regarding the events at Helgen, Farengar had immediately requested a private talk with her. At first she was quite suspicious of it, until the man started ranting and asked plenty of questions regarding the dragon that she had met.
"What did it look like? How powerful was it's Thu'um? What was the color of its scales? How sharp were its claws?"
She was quite overwhelmed at first, which prompted Farengar to take a deep breath and ask questions in a more cordial manner. It didn't take her long to realize that he was deeply fascinated by the large creatures.
Prior to meeting Vermithor, Kiera would be perplexed to see anyone fascinated by the large beasts. All she could feel was utter dread and fear after meeting the one from Helgen. But now, after seeing that dragons were as diverse as people, she could see where the interest an academic like Farengar could come from.
So she tried her best to answer his questions. She had told no one yet about her meeting with Vermithor. The Bronze Dragon might have been a kind one, but very few people had realized that fact as of yet.
She would rather bide her time. She didn't know what she was really waiting for, but she felt that it was the right thing to do.
The next day, she was invited back to Dragonsreach for a formal dinner. Dragonsreach itself was a wonder to her. She'd seen many keeps and temples across Skyrim, but few compared to this.
The dinner itself was a lavish affair she found a bit too polished for her liking. The Jarl's children were curious, especially the youngest, Nelkir, who remained quiet the entire time. Hrongar, Balgruuf's brother and the Master-at-Arms of Whiterun, spent more time drinking mead than talking, but his tales of the Great War had kept the table entertained.
It was a candid experience, one she surprisingly enjoyed.
…
The spar Kiera had with Irileth was one of the most interesting fights Kiera had experienced in recent memory.
Irileth was a proficient swordsman and enhanced her fighting style with destruction and illusion magic.
However, Kiera's mastery of Alteration was what won her the bout. Irileth had quickly realized Kiera's trick of sharpening her blade with flesh spells when her sword chipped after their first clash.
Irileth changed tactics after that and turned invisible. It wasn't the first time Kiera fought an invisible enemy, but it was the first time she fought someone who paired invisibility with a natural talent for sneaking.
Kiera's usual tricks of finding them through footprints or changes in the wind didn't work. So she had to improvise. She planted Paralysis Runes around her in a circular pattern, leaving only a single open path.
Sure enough, Irileth attempted to strike from that path, but her dagger bounced off Kiera's magically reinforced armor.
In the end, they both cast magic aside and clashed with pure steel—blade to blade, breathless and grinning through gritted teeth. Kiera had won, barely. And Irileth had laughed, clapping her shoulder and calling her "a damn tricky bastard."
From that moment, they were fast friends.
Now, Kiera sat at her usual corner in the Bannered Mare, sipping warm mulled wine while watching the light from the hearth dance on the wooden beams. The tavern was lively tonight—a bard named Mikael singing the old tale of Ragnar the Red, patrons drinking, and a small brawl happening in the center between Uthgerd the Unbroken and Sinmir.
When Irileth entered, her presence immediately toned down the atmosphere. Conversations dipped for a second as her eyes scanned the room, the leather and steel of her armor clinking softly. She nodded to Hulda, the barkeep, and made a direct path to Kiera's table.
"Kiera," she said, voice low and serious. "The Jarl has requested your presence in Dragonsreach. We have a situation."
Kiera straightened at once, setting her mug down. "Do you know what happened?"
Irileth shook her head as they exited the tavern into the cool night. "We received a runner from the Western Watchtower. I haven't heard the full report, but if the Jarl wants you specifically—it's likely dragon-related."
Kiera grimaced, brushing a loose strand of golden hair from her face. "Of course it is."
Whatever awaited her in Dragonsreach, she hoped she was ready.
…
4E 201, Road to Whiterun
Gerron Ironbreaker
The journey from Windhelm to Whiterun was an interesting one—though in truth, Gerron preferred a quieter road.
After wrapping up his business at the White Phial—with Nurelion reminding him again of the promise to seek the famed item and giving a mixture meant to open the path to the Phial—Gerron had taken a short detour to a place that had caught his eye on an earlier pass through the city.
Calixto's House of Curiosities, they called it. A museum, of sorts. The kind that claimed to hold "treasures" gathered from across Tamriel. It was the kind of bold claim that usually meant worthless junk, but Gerron had learned the value of keeping an open mind. Sometimes, what others consider junk might just be secret treasures they didn't know what to do with.
Who knows, perhaps some of those treasures might trigger more blueprints to show. At least that was Gerron's hope.
Unfortunately, the old place was closed up. The front door was shut tight and the windows had been boarded haphazardly. After asking a cloth merchant nearby, Gerron learned that Calixto had supposedly taken an interest in some new museum in Dawnstar. Gerron idly remembered some posters being set up around Windhelm about it.
Gerron merely turned away, disappointed.
With nothing else to do, Gerron set off for Whiterun the next day after buying all necessary supplies for the long journey. He restocked on provisions, bought a few more filled soul gems, and left the city with his coin purse a few pounds lighter.
The road south from Windhelm was a long one, but well-traveled. Snow thinned out as he moved west, giving way to pine woods and the golden plains of central Skyrim. The land was beautiful this time of year, with the sun melting the frost from the treetops and the wind carrying the scent of wet earth and new grass. It might have been peaceful, were it not for the growing number of bandits staking claims along the roads.
He passed a camp just beyond a riverside shack—a messy cluster of tents and poorly disguised traps. A gang of rugged men and women loitered about. Orcs, mostly, with a few rough-looking Nords mixed in. They didn't try to stop him. He suspected they knew better than to pick a fight with a heavily armored Nord with a warhammer as big as a man was tall.
Still, it gnawed at him. The Stormcloaks at Fort Amol were close—close enough to ride in and crush the whole lot—but they did nothing. Bandits ran free, so long as they didn't bother the soldiers. Gerron shook his head.
It was one of the reasons why Gerron believed that the Civil War was truly a mistake. Ulfric had his reasons in rebelling and Gerron had no love for the Thalmor. But letting outlaws fester like rot on the land wasn't a sign of strength for Ulfric, nor the Empire.
He tried not to dwell on politics. He was just an ordinary blacksmith from a small town. Someone who had no place deciding the fate of Jarls and empires. He was content with merely making arms and armor for the good coin they gave.
At least he had been. He wasn't so sure now. Ever since he'd acquired the Artificer System, Gerron couldn't ignore the uneasy weight settling in his gut. As if trouble awaited in the corner and time was the only thing holding it back.
But those thoughts were for another time. Especially since he's approaching another set of abandoned towers. Valtheim Towers they called it, Two towers, joined by a crumbling bridge over the White River. Gerron could see figures moving atop the bridge before he got close—bandits.
History said that these towers were once a proud defensive line for Whiterun against raiders from the eastern holds, but those days were long gone.
Fellglow Keep, which sat above the mountain overlooking the river, was meant as the main castle to garrison the towers. It was now nothing more than an abandoned ruin.
A Nord woman stepped into his path near the base of the first tower, leaning on a massive battle axe like it was a walking stick. "Hold there, traveler," she said, puffing her chest. "This here's our road. If you want to pass, you'll need to pay the toll."
Gerron snorted. "Toll? This is Whiterun's road. You planning to send coin to the Jarl?"
She scowled, fingers tightening on her axe. "We keep this path safe from worse folk. One hundred septims, and you pass with your bones intact."
Gerron merely snorted.
A single swing with his hammer was all it took, flattening her helm with a crunch that echoed off the cliffs. Shouts rang out from the towers as the rest of the camp stirred, but Gerron didn't wait. He charged the tower steps, his warhammer roaring through the air. The fight was short, brutal, and cathartic.
By the time he left Valtheim, his armor was splattered with blood—but the road ahead was clear.
…
He reached Whiterun the next day.
From the hilltop, the sight of the city should've been a welcome one—its towering walls and the wooden spires of Dragonsreach reaching high into the sky. But something was wrong. Crowds of people rushed inside the city proper, and the gates were half-shut, with guards scrambling to and fro.
As Gerron approached, a patrol waved him forward at a sprint. "Hurry!" one called. "You're one of the last—we're closing the gates!"
He didn't argue. He slipped in just as the heavy doors thundered shut behind him. Inside, the city was in turmoil. Guards barked orders and rushed civilians into their homes. Archers lined the battlements, their eyes turned nervously to the sky.
Gerron made his way toward the central plaza, where a large crowd had gathered.
A bald man stood on a crate above the crowd, wearing the standard armor of the Whiterun guard. "My name is Commander Caius," he shouted. "Three days ago, the Western Watchtower was attacked. Only one soldier returned alive. He said it was a dragon."
The crowd erupted in murmurs in fear and worry.
"We have confirmed the sighting," Caius continued. "And we have reason to believe the beast is still in the area. Jarl Balgruuf has authorized a hunting party. We will ride to the Watchtower, locate the dragon, and if possible—slay it."
The man swept his gaze across the crowd. "We need warriors and volunteers. You will be compensated properly."
Gerron wasn't surprised to see the numerous hands that instantly. Nords truly were crazy folk who'd happily march off to fight a dragon if it meant dying in honor and reaching Sovngarde.
Hell, Gerron wasn't any different, for his hand was the first to shoot up.
…
AN: And here we are, the event that kickstarts the whole campaign as a whole. Gerron and Kiera will meet next chapter which is the Western Watchtower.
Also some slight differences here, the Companions will be joining the dragon hunting party since there's absolutely no way warriors like them would miss out on something like this. Especially the whole Circle, hunting down legendary beasts in the name of Hircine is their whole shtick after all.
I have some pretty interesting plans as well for Calixto, which should be obvious for those who know the lore. Him having gone to Dawnstar is also the reason why there have been no murder for two weeks in Windhelm.
As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter twenty one should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!