17th Last Seed

Drelis sat with his friends, placing his books noisily upon the table.

'That looks like heavy reading, Drelis,' remarked Phane, sipping his wine.

'More history?' asked Lalaine.

'Saga,' Drelis claimed, smirking. 'From Skyrim!' He opened the first book and leafed through its pages. 'I had to hunt high and low for this one, it's the oldest and most important.'

'What is it?' Phane put his wine down and leaned in. 'Haven't I read that name before?'

'In more than one context perhaps,' said Drelis. 'Battle, smithing, history, heroic tales, embellished stories. The list goes on.'

'Khargol gro-Mashnar,' read Lalaine. 'An orc? Who is he?'

'Wait, wasn't he the one who...'

'Don't spoil it!' Drelis warned. 'If Lalaine hasn't read the stories, then we can make an evening of it.' He shuffled through the books until he found a thin, leather-bound tome. 'Lalaine, sit back and relax. Phane, order us some more wine. Or better yet, some warm mead. I'm sure the barkeep has some hidden away in storage.' He cleared his throat and opened the book to a faded sketch of a wide-chinned orc with broad shoulders and beady black eyes. 'This,' he declared, 'is Khargol gro-Mashnar, master smith and forger of dragon armour.'

'I'm listening,' said Lalaine, studying the orc's brutish face.

'This account is written by a housecarl named Lydia, a nord who came under Khargol's service in Last Seed of the third century, fourth era, after the death of Torygg, high king of Skyrim.

'It is important to know where Khargol came from, although I'll save the most intriguing details for later. He was from the Wrothgarians of Orsinium, but for his own reasons he travelled to Cyrodil, walked the Jerral Mountains, and crossed the border into Skyrim. He was trying to find somewhere he could put down roots and start a new life. Unfortunately it seemed as though he would lose the life he already had. He was mistaken for an outlaw and arrested by imperial soldiers.'

Drelis cracked open the spine of the old book. 'Lydia mentions that one of the imperial soldiers pointed out the mistake, and although Khargol's life was still forfeit, he was told that his remains would be sent to his family in Orsinium. The soldier could not have known how far from Khargol's wishes that could be, but the orc did not resist as he was led to the headsman's block.

'He was condemned to death, but it was death that saved his life! Death made fire and flesh, with black wings for a cowl and a terrifying roar for its trumpets. A dragon! The first to appear in reliable imperial records for an age! The beast brought death and ruin to Helgen; Khargol and some of the other prisoners escaped in the confusion, amongst them was Ralof the stormcloak, a rebel in the eyes of the empire.'

'Khargol was going to be executed?' Phane said. 'That's not what I read in the empire's accounts.'

'Phane, stop interrupting!' Lalaine shushed and turned back to Drelis. 'Come on, what happened next?'

'I am citing this from Lydia's diary, she knew only what Khargol gro-Mashnar would have told her. Still, I'm not surprised that the empire's account of what happened at Helgen differs from Lydia's.

'Ralof took Khargol to a nearby village called Riverwood. The two sheltered there in Ralof's sister's house. It was a small, quiet logging community where the imperial soldiers would have little reason to hunt for rebels and convicts.

'Ralof told Khargol of Skyrim's recent plight. Torygg, the high king, was dead. He had been slain by Ulfric Stormcloak. Now the empire had branded Stormcloak and all those loyal to him as dangerous rebels to be captured and executed. Ralof claimed that Ulfric had challenged the high king to single combat, and that by ancient nord tradition he had won fairly. The stormcloaks claimed that Ulfric should be the rightful high king of Skyrim, but the empire disagreed, calling him a recidivist and assassin.

'Ralof asked Khargol to join the civil war and aid the stormcloak cause. Although Khargol must have had some sort of grudge against the imperials, he asked for more time to think things over. He was a stranger in a strange land, so in hindsight it was a level-headed decision given the circumstances.'

'Yes but didn't he eventually...'

'Phane! Shut up! You're going to spoil it' Lalaine picked up one of the books and swatted him with it. 'Stop interrupting or I shall pour that wine over your head.'

'Alright, alright! Drelis, my apologies, please go on.'

Drelis licked his lips and checked his place in the old diary. 'It appears our mead has arrived. Now, where was I?'