The Imperial Auditor - Chapter Five

  • The following morning Alvor had given me a stern look, disappeared into the family's sleeping area and returned with some heavy cotton trousers and a tunic, gruffly instructing me to change. The Imperial armour was placed into a pack by Sigrid, along with a small number of supplies to last for my journey to Whiterun. Following another evening sitting with Dorthe, working on her reading, she had been sat by the fire watching my every move with doe eyes.

     

    I had been ushered out of the door quickly by Alvor before Dorthe could protest, I could tell the child would complain for some time, though I hoped to return and complete my work in Riverwood soon, and spend more time tutoring her before I returned to my own children.

     

    As I made my way north along the winding path through the wide pass in the mountain line with my broom handle, I could hear the birds and animals chattering away in the trees, it seemed peaceful but fragile as though at any moment it could be broken. I crested the highest part of the path and paused for a time, resting my ankle, as the plains opened up in front of me. I had never seen such an expanse in all my travels across Cyrodiil, which was at its flattest, rolling hills, and peaked with the Jerryl mountains.

     

    The plains reached as far as the eye could see to the west and out to the north east, to the direct north another mountain line, blocking the northern reaches of Skyrim from view. A walled city sat directly ahead, the highest point on the plains, an imposing fortified city, and as I carefully descended along the path, I knew that this was my destination.

     

    I approached the huge solid city wall with caution, these were not the city walls of my homeland, certainly not as fine, but built with a raw strength that matched the Nords that I had encountered so far. Now glad that I had not worn the armour, being mistaken as a member of the Legion may not have ended well dependant on the City’s loyalties with the current unrest, I made my way upwards along the cobbled path to the huge city gate.

     

    A guard blocked my path, a second following closely behind, I noted that, over the guard's shoulder, the gate, like the city wall, was simple but solid, built to survive a siege, but not to play to finer tastes, yes my colleagues may believe that the Nords are simple, but they are certainly not stupid.

     

    “Stop, City’s closed,” declared the guard flatly. “State your business.”

     

    “Auditor from the Imperial Treasury in Cyrodiil,” I replied formally. “I am here to complete a census at the request of the Treasury and the Empire, I also bring word from Alvor of Riverwood.”

     

    “Riverwood?” questioned the second guard who had moved behind me, grabbing my tunic by the shoulder. “What has happened in Riverwood?”

     

    “Unhand me you fool!” I snapped, my temper stemming more from the pain in my ankle that had been aggravated by the journey, than the foolish guard. “Nothing has happened to Riverwood yet, but Helgen has been destroyed and the villagers are understandably worried.”

     

    “Instruction from the Jarl was no one goes in or out with the dragons about Agnarr,” hissed the first guard.

     

    “This is different Hals, Irileth would want as much information as possible,” the guard called Agnarr released his hold as I rolled my eyes, dragons again, even the General had dismissed the notion, either the rivers were flowing with mead in this part of Skyrim or something strange was happening.

     

    “You sure?” the first guard shifted uneasily on his feet.

     

    “You want Irileth to go all Dunmer on us if she finds out we didn’t let someone in with information?” Agnarr made his way up to the gate, made a series of loud raps on the wood and a grinding noise began. “Go straight to Dragonsreach Imperial, no lollygagging, we’ll be watching you.”

     

    One of the doors began to open slowly and I could see the reason for the grinding. My assumption that the doors were solid I realised was an under-estimation, there was, hidden each of the towers a mechanism to aid the guards in opening the huge doors.

     

    I nodded to the guards and quickly made my way through, or as fast as my ankle would allow, enabling the guards inside the city wall to begin pushing the door closed again. I felt eyes on me as I walked more slowly through towards what appeared to be the market district, I was unsure of my direction but knew that upwards would lead me to the huge wooden building that I had seen on my journey here, that must be Dragonsreach.

     

    The market was bustling, children were chasing each other around the feet of the adults discussing their business, but an uneasy air hung over it. Each of the guards followed my progress, silently nodding to each other as if to confirm that I was not yet a problem. I wondered what had happened to make them so suspicious of an Imperial administrator? Was it simply the attack at Helgen, Ulfric murdering the High King, or something deeper? I would not have time to find out, I needed to deliver my message, obtain further funding to survive and begin my true task, the reason I was in Skyrim, I would then be able to return home to my family.

     

    I found myself on the second level, after passing a guard on some steps who had mumbled something about dragons and the world going mad, I had to agree with him. A temple to Kynareth ahead, I would have to return there later in the hope that the priests would be able to heal my ankle, and a strange building to my right, it looked of very old traditional Nordic design, though the upturned boat as its roof was a little unusual so far from the sea. The remainder of the buildings on this level appeared residential and I continued onwards and upwards, past a preacher and along the solid stone steps, water ran either side and into pools at each level and continued down through gullies to the main city.

     

    “You visiting Dragonsreach Imperial?” asked a guard passing me on his journey downwards, though it seemed more rhetorical, “You mind yourself when you speak in front of the Jarl and his Housecarl, no funny business.”

     

    I nodded and continued my way across the bridge to the large doors, the guard waiting outside nodded to me and opened the door to the left. As I stepped through, I was taken by the enormity of the great hall that greeted my eyes. Like most halls of the Counts in Cyrodiil, a waiting area was located on either side, though the hall here was more open and not so private.

     

    As I hobbled up the stairs that led to the upper level of the hall I was approached by a stern looking Dunmer woman in full armour with her sword drawn.

     

    “Halt! Who approaches Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun?” her sword waving under my nose was most disturbing, turning to another guard,“I gave orders that the gates were not to be opened.”

     

    “I am Auguris Cedas, Imperial Auditor from Cyrodiil,” I replied stiffly, disliking the interrogation, my position in the Treasury requiring a level of respect from petty housecarls and local administrators, then remembering what the guard Agnarr had said, “I bring word from Riverwood, from Alvor the blacksmith for the Jarl.”

     

    The Dunmer looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing further, “I see, you may speak with the Jarl, approach with caution, lest you not see another meal.”

     

    Passing by the huge fire pit, the full heat of the hall hit me and I noticed a huge skull mounted on the wall behind the Jarl, it was truly what it appeared to be, then dragons may not have been just a legend, but I could not tell if it was actual bone or a wooden carving.

     

    “My lord, there has been an attack at Helgen, the city has been destroyed. Alvor of Riverwood beseeched me to bring word to Whiterun and request aid for the village.”

     

    “Destroyed?” The Jarl rose from his seat, hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly. “By what means? Was it the Stormcloaks?”

     

    “No sir, it was not the rebels. I do not believe that they would be able to launch an attack of this size so soon, possibly the Thalmor,” I explained uncomfortably, unsure of how much information to divulge. “Yes, I was at Helgen, I had been caught up in a skirmish between the Imperial Legion and some Stormcloak rebels, due to mistaken identity I was deemed a traitor and sent to the block as were the others.”

     

    “Dragon!” a Nord to the Jarl's left stated firmly, “The guards must be right.”

     

    “General Tullius did not believe it was a dragon.” I replied shaking my head.

     

    “Tullius was there?” asked the Jarl, glancing to his right at a mumbling Imperial, giving him a stern look. Then turning to the Dunmer woman, “Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”

     

    Ireleth nodded to the Jarl, then turned on her heel and stalked out of the hall in the direction of the city.

     

    “Do you really think that is necessary my Jarl?” queried the Imperial, I took an instant dislike to the man, there were times to challenge a superior, this was not one of them.

     

    “You have a better plan Proventus?” replied the Jarl, I could tell his temper was rising, “You wish me to leave the village undefended?”

     

    “No, my lord, but the Jarl of Falkreath may see it as provocation,” simpered Proventus.

     

    “Go back to your papers,” Balgruuf waved him off, “I will not sit idly by when my people are in danger.”

     

    “Now, Cedas was it? Auditor you say? We will discuss this more later, but now I must thank you for fulfilling Alvor’s request,” he continued, stepping away from his chair. “Hrongar, send someone to fetch that spare armour we keep for this sort of occasion, while our new associate and I speak with Farengar, we may have a task for him.”

     

    The Nord, Hrongar nodded and took his leave, making his way across the court and down some stairs.

     

    Jarl Balgruuf led me to a side room, Farengar it appeared was the court mage. The man was bustling around the room with various papers and old books, muttering to himself.

     

    “Farengar is a bit on the stuffy side,” smirked the Jarl, “but I would not be without him. Farengar!”

     

    “Hmm, oh, yes my Jarl?” answered the man, looking surprised that someone else was in the room.

     

    “I think I may have found someone to provide you with some assistance,” continued Balgruuf, apparently ignoring Farengar’s lack of respect. “I understand that Cedas here is an administrative type from Cyrodiil, but survived an attack that destroyed Helgen and found his way to Whiterun.”

     

    “Survived Helgen? Destroyed?” The mage looked completely confused, he walked over to me and peered closely at my face. “Are you sure?”

     

    Balgruuf walked over the opposite side of the table that Farengar had been sorting papers, and placed his hands firmly on the table, the table now taking most of his weight.

     

    “Yes, he has the look of one who has survived a great battle, even if he was ill prepared for it.” Then looking at me with a furrowed brow, “how many days have passed since the attack?”

     

    I understood the challenge, if Riverwood was in danger, then any delay in my travelling to Whiterun would increase the risk to the village.

     

    “Almost two days,” I saw the Jarl draw a deep breath as if to speak, but I continued quickly, “I am no soldier, nor mercenary my Lord. I was held in a cell for five days, with only water and stale bread for sustenance. When we were taken to Helgen I was already weakening, by the time I reached Riverwood with an Imperial soldier following the attack, I was injured also. Alvor conceded to my taking a short time to recuperate to ensure that I could deliver his message.”

     

    The Jarl nodded, then turning to leave, “Proceed Farengar, he will suffice, but I caution you, Imperials are not as strong as Nords, he will need time to fully recuperate and prepare himself for whatever it is you intend to do with him.”

     

     

    TIA: Wax Seal

     

    Back to Chapter FourTable of Contents Forward to Chapter Six

     

     

     

Comments

9 Comments   |   Sotek and 4 others like this.
  • Paws
    Paws   ·  November 24, 2017
    Shame, I wanted to see Ireleth "go all Dunmer." Grim talk is the official language of Morrowind, vengeance the national pastime.  I like the  image too, another new one?
    :)
    • Meli
      Meli
      Paws
      Paws
      Paws
      Shame, I wanted to see Ireleth "go all Dunmer." Grim talk is the official language of Morrowind, vengeance the national pastime.  I like the  image too, another new one?
      :)
        ·  November 25, 2017
      There's always time for Ireleth to go all Dunmer on someone ;-)


      Yes another new image, I may have a go at some next and previous chapter ones soon.
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  September 20, 2016
    Auguris is going into Bleak Falls? Oh boy. :D
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  September 17, 2016
    You did it Meli!!!!
    • Meli
      Meli
      Sotek
      Sotek
      Sotek
      You did it Meli!!!!
        ·  September 17, 2016
      Do you like?
      • Sotek
        Sotek
        Meli
        Meli
        Meli
        Do you like?
          ·  September 17, 2016
        What's the best way to answer this.....
        Awwwwwwooooooooo
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  May 22, 2016
    Auguris is adorable. I am from Cyrodiil. LOL, silly goose. Can't believe Jarl still wants him to work for Farengar. 
  • Meli
    Meli   ·  May 22, 2016
    Thanks Sotek.
    Understandably the Nords are more concerned with events at home, hopefully Auguris will learn the best ways to talk to them to get the results he needs.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  May 22, 2016
    What to do with him indeed.
    I had a chuckle when the guard didn't batter an eyelid when he was told 'Cyrodiil' but then he became all exited when  'Riverwood' was mentioned.