Tsun stood still staring, his thoughts still swirling with the image of the Stone Mask hanging on the wall below. He couldn't shake the feeling of how out of place it looked, something so powerful sitting there as if it were just a decoration. He wondered if anyone here understood what it was, but from how Farengar hadn't even glanced at it, it was clear he thought of it as nothing more than an ornament. The possibilities of getting his hands on it danced in his mind. Could he buy it? Maybe Farengar would be willing to part with it for the right price, though mages were known for hoarding artifacts like dragons hoarded gold.
Stealing it wasn't out of the question, but he'd have to wait for the right time. As the ideas churned in his mind, a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it.
"Tsun," Freyja said, her tone firm but not impatient. "We're going to see the Jarl. Let's go."
"Right," Tsun muttered, nodding, but his gaze lingered on the wall for a moment longer.
They followed Irileth up to the next floor, entering a large chamber where a group of people stood around a long table. The air was tense, their raised voices filling the room as they argued.
A tall man in a fur-lined cloak sat at the head of the table. His sharp features and the fine circlet on his head immediately marked him as the Jarl. He listened carefully as those around him debated, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
"To leave the watchtower undefended is reckless!" said a broad-shouldered man wearing chainmail and a weathered steel breastplate. His voice was loud, rough, and carried the tone of someone who had spent a lifetime on the battlefield.
"And sending soldiers to their deaths is somehow better?" countered a smaller man with neatly combed hair and fine robes. He stood stiffly, his expression tense. "We don't even know if it will strike again!"
"It's not about if—it's about when!" said a woman in fur-trimmed armor who stood to the side. Her arms were crossed as she leaned against the table, her voice calm but firm. "The farms won't hold if the dragon moves south. The refugees will flood the gates, and the city won't survive the chaos."
The discussion grew louder as they went back and forth. Tsun caught the names being thrown around as he listened. The man in armor was Haldar, the captain of the guard, while the well-dressed man was Proventus Avenicci, the Jarl's steward. The woman was Alfhild Stone-Bear, one of the Jarl's military advisors.
The young man standing near the back of the room, visibly nervous, was called Lorkas. He looked barely old enough to wield a sword, but his trembling hands and pale face suggested he was the messenger who had brought word of the attack.
"Enough," Balgruuf said, his voice cutting through the noise.
The room fell silent as the Jarl leaned forward, his gaze sweeping across those gathered. "Proventus, how many men can we spare for the watchtower?"
Proventus hesitated, clearly uneasy. "Perhaps 30," he said, his voice tight. "Any more than that, and we risk leaving the city defenseless."
"Ten won't hold," Haldar said, shaking his head. "We need at least double that to stand a chance."
"And leave Whiterun open to attack from the Stormcloaks? Or bandits?" Proventus countered.
"The city won't matter if the dragon burns it to the ground," Alfhild said, her voice cold.
Balgruuf's jaw tightened as he considered their words. "Irileth," he said finally, looking toward the dark elf standing by the door.
"My Jarl?" she replied, stepping forward.
"You'll take command of the defense," he said. "Gather what men we can spare and head to the watchtower. If it moves south, warn the city immediately."
Irileth nodded sharply. "Understood."
The Jarl turned his attention to Lorkas, who looked like he wanted to shrink into the floor. "You saw the dragon," Balgruuf said. "What else can you tell us?"
Lorkas swallowed hard, stepping closer. "It came out of nowhere," he said, his voice shaky. "It burned the tower to the ground in minutes. I barely escaped." He paused, glancing nervously around the room. "If we don't act, it'll destroy everything."
Balgruuf's gaze hardened, his decision made. "Then we act. Irileth, prepare your men. Alfhild, coordinate with Haldar to secure the city. Proventus, make sure we have supplies ready if the refugees reach our gates."
As the room began to move into action, Irileth motioned for Freyja and Tsun to step forward. "Jarl Balgruuf, Freyja has returned," she said, her voice steady.
The Jarl's eyes shifted to Freyja, studying her briefly before landing on Tsun. "You've come from Bleak Falls Barrow?"
Freyja nodded, stepping forward. "I have. Farengar has the tablet you requested."
"Good," Balgruuf said, though his expression remained serious. "Let us hope he manages to divine some sort of weakness from it, we need all the help we can get."
Jarl Balgruuf's sharp gaze turned toward Proventus, the tension in the room still thick. "Proventus," he said, his voice steady but commanding, "send word to the Companions. See if they will offer their swords for this battle. Give them whatever they ask for."
Proventus gave a quick nod. "Yes, my Jarl."
The Jarl's attention shifted to the others around the table. "Prepare the city for an attack. Secure the gates, reinforce the guards, and ensure the defenses are ready."
There was a collective murmur of agreement as those gathered replied, "Yes, my Jarl," before dispersing quickly to carry out their tasks.
Balgruuf stood for a moment, watching them leave, before his eyes landed on Freyja. He approached her, his expression serious. "Freyja," he said, his tone softening slightly. "I will need you to fight as well."
Freyja's eyes widened, her breath catching as his words hit her. She froze, her mind racing as memories of Helgen surged to the surface. She was back there again, the screams of the villagers ringing in her ears, the heat of the dragon's fire pressing against her skin. She saw the buildings crumble under the force of its roars, the people crushed beneath the debris, the sky darkened by smoke.
Her body began to shake, her hands trembling as she tried to push the memories away. She snapped back to the present, her voice shaky as she responded. "No," she said, her tone uneven. "I'm just here to collect my reward. I have no interest in fighting a dragon."
The Jarl's frown deepened. "You survived Helgen," he said, his voice taking on a firmer edge. "Out of everyone here, you have more experience with dragons than anyone else."
"Experience?" Freyja cut him off, her voice rising. "What experience? We were slaughtered! I didn't fight—I ran! Fighting a dragon is impossible."
Balgruuf's jaw tightened as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. His gaze sharpened as he looked at her, his next words slow and deliberate. "Your home. In the Cloud District. That was your reward, was it not?"
Freyja stiffened, her fists clenching at her sides. "Yes," she replied through gritted teeth.
"As a homeowner, you are a citizen of Whiterun," he continued, his tone unyielding. "And as a citizen, you are subject to my rule."
Freyja's trembling grew, but now it wasn't from fear. It was anger. She understood the unspoken threat in his words. Her lips curled into a snarl as she glared at him. "Then keep your reward," she spat, her voice filled with venom. Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, her boots echoing loudly against the stone floor.
Tsun, who had been standing silently to the side, watched her leave. He folded his arms, his expression neutral but thoughtful. It was unfair of the Jarl to corner her like that, but he could see the reasoning behind it. Balgruuf was desperate, and desperation didn't leave room for kindness.
Balgruuf turned his attention to Tsun, his features softening slightly. "We haven't been introduced," he said, his tone less harsh than before.
"Tsun," he replied, stepping forward. "I've been traveling with Freyja. I pulled her out of Bleak Falls Barrow after she got into trouble with a group of Draugr."
The Jarl nodded, his expression lightening. "Then we owe you thanks. Without your help, we never would have gotten the Dragonstone."
Tsun inclined his head but said nothing, waiting for the Jarl to continue.
Balgruuf's sharp gaze settled on him. "Would you be willing to fight for us? We could use your strength."
Tsun didn't respond immediately, his thoughts racing. He didn't feel particularly invested in this city or its people, but the idea of fighting a dragon stirred something in him. A challenge. And perhaps an opportunity to learn more about his new body and abilities.
After a moment, he nodded. "I'll fight, for a price," he said simply.
Balgruuf gave him a small smile, one of relief. "Good. What do you want?"
Tsun paused, considering his words carefully. "A few things," he said. "I want foundational books on magic. Anything to help me learn. And..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Your court mage keeps a Stone Mask on the wall. I want that."
The Jarl's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he didn't question it. He folded his arms, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Done," he said. "Consider it yours once this is over."
Tsun gave a small nod of acknowledgment, though inside, a flicker of excitement stirred at the thought of finally getting his hands on the mask.
...
Tsun pushed open the heavy doors of Dragonsreach, stepping out into the cool evening air. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the sprawling city below. His eyes scanned the steps leading down, and there she was—Freyja. She sat with her elbows resting on her knees, her head down. When she heard the door close, she quickly wiped her eyes and straightened up.
He walked down the steps slowly, the wood creaking under his boots, and sat down next to her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the city below.
"Bastard," Freyja muttered, her voice low and filled with anger.
Tsun tilted his head toward her. "The Jarl?"
"Of course the Jarl," she snapped, her voice rising slightly before she sighed. "I hope a dragon eats him first. Maybe that'll knock some sense into him."
Tsun chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "Creative insults. Got any more?"
She let out a frustrated laugh, shaking her head. "Plenty, but I'd probably be thrown in the dungeon if I said them out loud."
Tsun smirked but didn't reply, waiting for her to continue.
Freyja leaned back, resting her arms on the step behind her. "What are you going to do now?" he asked after a moment.
She was quiet, staring down at her hands. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "Maybe head toward Solitude. It's the least affected by the war... at least for now."
Tsun gave a small nod but didn't press her further. They sat in silence for a while, the city stretching out before them. The golden light of the setting sun made Whiterun's streets glow, but the beauty was lost on Freyja. Her eyes scanned the rooftops and walls, but her expression was grim.
"They're all going to die," she said suddenly, her voice flat. "If the dragon comes here, they'll all die. There's no fighting it. I saw hundreds of Imperial soldiers at Helgen—trained men with weapons and armor—and they were nothing. Eaten, burnt, crushed. It didn't matter what they tried, nothing worked."
Tsun stayed quiet, letting her speak.
"The Jarl is sending thirty people to their deaths," she continued, her words laced with bitterness. "And Whiterun will be next. It's probably a good thing I don't get a home here. It'll just burn down in a few weeks."
Tsun shrugged, leaning forward slightly. "You never know," he said casually. "They might slay the dragon."
Freyja laughed, but it was cold and humorless. "Slay it? Their arrows didn't even pierce its scales. The magic either missed or did nothing. No one could even get close enough to swing a sword."
Tsun reached over and clapped her on the back, his hand heavy but not unkind. She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"You know what makes a hero?" he asked, his tone lighter than the weight of his words. "It's not just the victories. It's going out there knowing you'll probably lose, but still giving it everything you've got. Those thirty people? They know they're walking into hell. That's what makes them worth remembering."
Freyja's expression softened slightly, but she didn't say anything.
Tsun stood up, dusting off his cloak. Freyja frowned and tilted her head at him. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of suspicion.
He glanced down at her, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "To slay a dragon," he said with a chuckle.
Freyja stood quickly, her hand reaching out as if to grab his arm but stopping short. "Wait—don't do something so stupid!" she said, her voice rising. "You don't even know what you're up against!"
Tsun paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder at her. "Maybe not," he said, his grin widening. "But someone's got to try."
Before she could say anything else, he turned and walked away, his cloak swaying with each step. Freyja stood there, her fists clenching as she watched him disappear into the growing shadows of the city.
___________________________
Tsun walked through the streets of Whiterun, his cloak swaying slightly with each step. The city felt quieter now, the buzz of the market long gone as the night settled in. Most people had retreated indoors, but he noticed the occasional beggar or guard lingering in the shadows. Lanterns hanging from posts flickered faintly, casting uneven light on the cobblestone streets.
His mind churned as he walked. He hadn't been entirely honest with Freyja when he brushed off her concerns. The truth was, he was nervous—no, outright uneasy. Dragons weren't just beasts; they were legends. Creatures of unimaginable power. He had no idea what he was walking into, and while his body was strong, and his technique was impressive, he couldn't be sure it would be enough. What if the flames were hotter than anything he could withstand? What if their claws could shred even him?
Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he arrived at the mustering point near the city gates. There, a group of soldiers was gathered, standing in tight clusters as they checked their weapons and adjusted their armor. At the front stood Irileth, her stance rigid, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. Beside her was Haldar, the gruff captain of the guard, barking orders to a few men.
Tsun's eyes shifted to another group nearby. Mercenaries, by the look of them. Hardened faces, a mix of armor and weapons that suggested experience and skill. He assumed they were Companions, though he didn't see the three he had encountered earlier.
Irileth spotted him and motioned him over. He walked up, pulling his hood down as he approached, letting the cool night air hit his face.
"Irileth," he said simply. "I'll be joining you."
She raised an eyebrow, her gaze quickly assessing him. "You're not obligated to help," she said, though her tone wasn't dismissive.
"I'm aware," Tsun replied. "But if I'm going to fight, I'll need a weapon. Something big and blunt."
Irileth tilted her head slightly. "Not a sword?"
He shook his head. "No experience with one. A mace or a club is simple enough to swing."
She nodded and turned to two nearby guards. "Go to Warmaiden's. Tell Adrianne I need the largest warhammer she has. Have the bill sent to the Jarl."
The guards saluted and hurried off, leaving Tsun to stand beside her. Irileth's eyes lingered on him briefly now that his face was fully visible. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his features were sharp and handsome. His presence alone was striking, and she could see why Freyja might have trusted him. Still, she couldn't help but feel nervous about the battle ahead.
She glanced toward Haldar, who was checking over the men. "I've never seen a dragon before," she admitted quietly. "But if the stories are true..." She trailed off, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly.
Tsun didn't reply immediately. He shared her unease. Dragons were no ordinary foes, and the odds didn't favor them. "If the stories are true," he said finally, "then we'll just have to make our own story about killing one."
Irileth gave him a small, tight-lipped nod, though her grip on her sword didn't loosen.
The two guards returned a few minutes later, carrying a massive warhammer between them. They struggled under its weight, the weapon clearly designed for someone with incredible strength. The head of the hammer was solid steel, the shaft thick and reinforced with iron bands.
"This... is the heaviest and largest we could find," one of the guards said, his voice strained.
Tsun stepped forward and grabbed the warhammer with one hand, lifting it as if it were no more than a twig. He turned it over in his hand, testing the balance, before resting it on his shoulder with a small smile. "This'll do nicely," he said.
The guards exchanged wide-eyed looks, their awe evident. Whispers rippled through the group as others noticed his display of strength. The sight seemed to lift their spirits, a glimmer of hope in the face of what they were about to face.
Haldar climbed onto a nearby wooden crate, his scarred face illuminated by the flickering torchlight. He raised his hand, calling for silence. The murmurs died down, and all eyes turned to him.
"You all know why we're here," Haldar began, his voice rough but steady. "There's a dragon out there. It's already burned the western watchtower to the ground. We're going out there to stop it before it reaches the city."
He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Most of us won't come back. This isn't some raid on a bandit camp or a skirmish with the Stormcloaks. This is a fight against a monster that's older than the stones we stand on."
The crowd shifted uneasily, but no one spoke.
"But if we fall," Haldar continued, his voice rising, "we drag that beast to the grave with us. We stand here tonight to protect our families, our homes, our city. And if this is where we die, then we die with honor, knowing Whiterun stands because of us!"
A cheer erupted from the soldiers and mercenaries, the sound raw and fierce. Weapons were raised, fists clenched, and for a moment, their fear was replaced by determination.
Haldar raised his sword. "Onward!" he shouted.
The group began to move, the sound of armor clinking and boots stomping on the cobblestones.
Tsun hung back for a moment, turning his gaze up toward the top of the city. The Cloud District was barely visible in the fading light, but he knew Freyja wasn't there anymore, and he couldn't blame her. He hoped she'd find some peace, wherever she decided to go. Adjusting the warhammer on his shoulder, he turned and followed the group, the gates of Whiterun creaking open to let them out into the night.
___________________________
AN: So they are going to fight the dragon now and hopefully Tsun will get his hands on that stone mask. After that he can start building up his own power base because the mask won't only be used on him, but on any followers he might wish to gain. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned for the next chapter.)
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