Deserter - Chapter Four: Valour

• Posted by FishDout July 2, 2015 - 928 views

  

  "... With our blood and our steel, we'll take back our home ..." 

  A bard in the Bannered Mare was singing Imperial propaganda when the Hold Guard entered. The stringing of an accompanying lute carried its sound throughout the tavern, ensuring that, no matter where he went to seek peace, the Hold Guard was never free from the Empire's grasp. He stood still for a moment upon entering the tavern, momentarily overwhelmed by the scent of honeyed mead, and looked for a seat furthest away from the bard. 

  The Hold Guard made his way to the corner table, ordering a bottle of Argonian Ale and waving off a Breton mage proposing a drinking contest before sinking into the chair. Hulda - the Inn's owner - soon approached with an apologetic smile. The Hold Guard was left holding a lukewarm mug of Nord Mead after being told that the last bottle of Argonian Ale was missing. He stared quietly into the depths of his replacement drink and began to undo his helmet with mechanical indifference, but before he could remove it a hand snatched his mug, and Kyr downed his mead in one gulp. 

  "I talked to Commander Caius," she said after a few quiet moments. She seated herself in the chair opposite and fixed her eyes on him. "He says I have the rest of today and tomorrow to become a trained soldier, and then I'm going to war." 

  The Hold Guard stared blankly at a wall in the distance, still wearing the steel helmet. "He said," continued Kyr, "that you would teach me how to stay alive." The Hold Guard stayed quiet, and Kyr pressed on angrily. "Which is funny, because all you've done all morning is been an ass." 

  The Guard turned his head at that, surveying the spirited Wood-elf opposite him. Her eyes reflected the blaze in the Inn's firepit. He looked away from her again, instead watching Uthgerd cheat a clueless man out of his coin. He'd brawled the Nord woman once, wagering his week's salary. She'd floored him in one punch. He felt now much like he had that day- helpless, pained. The guilt was new, though. He shook himself back to the present and looked back at Kyr. Her shoulders were slumped, and the fire had gone from her eyes. 

  "Help me," she breathed, voice lowered in defeat. "Damn it, I don't want to die." 

  The Hold Guard closed his eyes. He kicked himself for being so selfish, nodded slowly, and rose from his chair. He beckoned to Kyr, and as they left the Bannered Mare, the bard delivered the song's last line.

  "... And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies." 

  ---------------- 

  An eerie dawn had settled over Whiterun hold. The sun had risen, but was obscured by clouds, and its warmth and light was denied from the surrounding areas. Most of Whiterun's citizens were still indoors; the only ones outside in the cold were the guards. As such, it was a quiet morning, silence broken only by the perpetual clang of steel as sword met sword in Jorrvaskr's training yard.  

  The Hold Guard had trained with Kyr the rest of the previous afternoon, and they had both risen at dawn the following day to continue sparring. She was a quick learner, but only so much could be taught in two days. They'd been practicing relentlessly, and Kyr was covered in bruises from many of the Guard's countless attacks. Her sword and shield arms were sore, and the muscles in her left hand were jittery from having her shield hacked at. After the practice, they both sat on the steps leading to Dragonsreach, legs dangling over water. 

  "So," Kyr breathed, still winded. "Do you think I'll survive tomorrow?" She tried to pass it off as a joke, but the phrase was tinged with concern and fear. The Hold Guard wanted to comfort her, but he knew he'd have to lie to do so. He owed her the truth, and didn't have the heart to tell her. So he stayed quiet. Kyr forced a weak smile in comprehension, then wiped her eyes and changed the subject. 

  "So I should be blaming the Thalmor for being here, right? In fact, so should you, the whole damned war is their fault." She stared inquisitively at the Hold Guard for a reaction. He grunted in response. "Thing is," Kyr pushed on, "With this dragon business, and the vampires and all, there won't be a Skyrim to war over soon enough." 

  The Hold Guard blinked at her nonchalance. He turned his head and listened to the young elf, curious. 

  "I think I know how to save Skyrim," said Kyr emotionlessly as his eyes met hers. "We eradicate the Thalmor." The Hold Guard jumped in surprise and told her to quiet down before they were accused of treason. They conversed long into the day, swapping stories and getting to know each other. The Guard was distracted, though. It was as if a thunderbolt had struck him, for though he was shocked by Kyr's idea, he had begun to think about the war with sudden clarity. 

  Their dialogue was finally interrupted at midday by one of the city's Nords. The Hold Guard sighed and began to stand up, but Kyr put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. 'I've got this' she mouthed. She straightened up, crossed her arms, cleared her throat and observed the Nord woman.
  

  "Let me guess..." she began, and the Hold Guard smiled. 

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