Chapter 28: Lydia
The table was quiet now.
The crackle of torches and the distant howl of wind filled the silence that had followed Balgruuf's speech. No more mocking from Olfrid, no boastful toasts from Hrongar. Just silence and the dragon's skeleton looming behind us, each bone a grim monument to what had come, and what was still to come.
Olfrid, of all people, looked… subdued. His goblet remained untouched. His eyes flicked to the blackened bones, then at the table. His hands clenched together, veins showing through skin.
Fear was manifesting in them all, not as screams or panic, just the quiet unknown blade at their throats.
"How many of them are there?" Olfrid finally muttered, as if voicing the question aloud would make it less real.
"What can we do to stop them?" Vignar asked. His tone wasn't angry, just urgent. Worried.
"You said something about them coming back?" Kodlak finally spoke at the table.
Balgruuf turned his gaze toward Farengar.
The court wizard straightened, and the moonlight shone on his face, as the hood tilted slightly, revealing his half-mad, half-unkempt eyes twitching with barely restrained excitement. "There's… something," he said. "A discovery. From a reliable source. There's a map. A burial map. Deep within the Bleak Falls Barrow."
Olfrid leaned forward, his voice sharp with regained authority. "Then we should hurry and send someone to retrieve it."
I didn't speak and simply extended my hand over the table.
And with the shimmer of bending space, the tablet appeared—solid, cracked at the edges, the touch of time had left its mark.
I set the tablet on the oak with a hollow thud. Its top was straight, sides angled inward, the base a carved inverted triangle. A horned helmet was etched onto its surface in gold, below a map of Skyrim. The land was dented with four-pointed star-shaped punctures at precise points.
Farnegar's chair screeched back as he rushed forward, both hands trembling as they hovered over the stone.
"That's what she was talking about…" he murmured under his breath.
My brows flinched, lasting a breath as a name flickered in my head, 'Delphine.'
Farengar traced the stars, muttering the names of the cities under his breath. "Markarth… Windhelm… Morthal… Falkreath…. Winterhold…"
Each word landed like a countdown.
Each one is a resting place for a monster waiting to be awakened and engulf the world around it.
"There are twenty-two," he confirmed, finally looking up, voice brittle. "All over Skyrim"
Balgruuf's brows furrowed. He looked at the map, as Farengar brought it to him, then at the people seated around him, and finally toward the north sky, thinking deeply of how useful the map might be if used right.
I cleared my throat.
"The map is worthless," I said, and heads turned. "If the dragons are rising all over Nirn at the same time, then there's no point in knowing where they rise. If someone or something is resurrecting them—" I paused. "Then we don't know where the next resurrection will take place."
The table fell silent, the map meant nothing, the progress they thought they made was of no use, tension flickered, as legs tapped the stone floor.
Balgruudd frowned, "Then what do you suggest?"
I looked around the table, "Instead of going to the empty burial sites. The best strategy would be to strengthen your hold, you will need more archers than swordsmen. And I mean a lot more."
The table fell silent again.
Until Hrongar chuckled.
"Shor's bones," he muttered, a half-smile forming under his beard. "The man talks like a tactician."
A few amused exhales followed. The tension cracked. But no one truly relaxed.
We talked a little more. Kodlak spoke of the Companions' willingness to assist should Whiterun come under attack. Farengar muttered something about checking an old scroll from the Arcanaeum. Vignar and Olfrid asked questions—what if they flew at night, what if they attacked farms, what if they came in twos or threes?
But eventually… the 'feast' was done.
The nobles left one by one, with slow steps and murmurs. No toast or music. Only a burden clung to their shoulder and mind.
Hrongar stretched. "Well," he exhaled, "I've been to worse feasts."
And then the door creaked open.
Irileth stepped out.
Silence again.
She avoided our eyes, her shoulders tense, her gaze lowered. But something was different. And every man saw it.
Not in her armor, it was still perfectly worn, still hung sharp and tight, not in her posture either.
But her walk. It was different.
Smoother, slower, with more sway in her hips. As if the bones and muscles that made her a wooden puppet had burned off, and now only embers remained.
And her face, always locked in a scowl or a glare, had softened. There were no tired lines on her forehead, no exhaustion in her breath, just calm, and that made her more feminine.
Even Hrongar cleared his throat and looked away.
Proventus, who had missed all of it, blinked in confusion. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked, stepping forward. "Have you forgotten the duties of the Housecarl?"
Balgruuf held up a hand, sharp.
"Proventus,"
Balgruuf's voice held steel now. "Do you think killing a dragon is child's play? She stood against that beast while you were buried in your ledger. She deserves rest. She earned it."
Irileth didn't speak, didn't thank him, she just gave a slow nod and moved to the side of his chair.
Balgruuf turned to me.
"And speaking of Housecarls…"
He stepped forward, resting a hand on my shoulder. His voice dropped into a more formal tone, one that echoes with authority, like in his court.
"As Thane of Whiterun, it is your right to have a personal Housecarl assigned to you. One who answers only to you. Someone to protect your life, as Irileth has protected mine."
He turned his head.
"Lydia."
The door behind us opened again.
Boots clicked on the stone.
She entered like a knight stepping from legend.
Steel armor fit her like a second skin, well-maintained, practical, without excessive ornament. A sword rested at her hip, its hilt worn from training. Her hair was jet black, let loose on her shoulders. Her skin was pale as snow, untouched by sun, and her eyes, green like the tundra behind me.
She walked up to me without hesitation, stood straight, and declared.
"My Thane," She bowed a little. "It's an honor to serve you."
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