Skyrim's Saviors

46: Ularik Stormcloak

"It's time to come out of hiding," I say one day to Lydia and the others as they are all gathered around eating.  "I want to get this rebellion in full swing again."

"How?" Lydia asks.

"There are talks of small uprisings in previously Stormcloak areas and Holds," Sinbil says.

"Especially here in Falkreath Hold," says Runeoanea. "Every time I go to town to get food and supplies, I hear people talking about how the Stormcloak camps are showing signs of being active again."

Relfire nods. "I asked the innkeeper about any news. Apparently, there's something going on in Riften. Word is the Jarl is dead, and Maven Black-Briar is the reason why. She wanted the throne all to herself, but other sources say she herself is being targeted."

"By who?" Sinbil asks. "Who would be foolish enough to go after Maven?"

"I'd call it brave, personally," says Gwynlyn. "I hate that bitch. She drives me mad."

"Maybe it's the Stormcloaks in the Rift who are going after her," I say. "I mean, if it is true that people believe that she killed Laila Law-Giver."

Lydia taps her chin. "What do you want to do, Ularik? Where do we go from here?"

"Head to the Stormcloak camps in Falkreath Hold. See if we can help them," I say.

"Help them do what, exactly?" Sinbil asks, somewhat anxiously flicking his tail.

"I don't know, find a new person to take the Jarl's place. I mean, I don't know why it hasn't gone to her children yet," I say, looking at everyone.

"I guess it depends on how things play out over the next week or so," says Imera. "So, we're first gonna go to Falkreath Stormcloak camps, then we're  off to Riften?"

I nod. "Let's go, then."

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We ride through thick rain and heavy fog for what feels like forever, with Sinbil in the lead, scenting the campfires, sweat, steel, and food on the wind. As a Khajiit, he's very handy for practically anything. Honestly, I trust Sinbil with my life nowadays. The same goes for Imarea, Rune, and Relfire, the three Altmer females in this group.

I'm learning to trust Gwynlyn, I already do trust Lydia.

When we reach the camp, I dismount from my horse and slowly approach the soldiers. A few draw their weapons, but then, a female Nord in Stormcloak general attire and with a thick, Nordic accent, comes running out with her sword drawn.

I recognize that sword. Ulfric gave it to her. Along with the title Stormblade.

"Stormblade, it's an honor to meet you," I say. "Officially, I mean. I am Ularik Stormcloak, and I need your help."

Her bright green eyes widen. "You're Dragonborn, aren't you? When we heard you had died, we knew that the war was lost. But now, I suppose you haven't died, as you're here now."

"Yeah, I'm back," I say. "But we need your help."

She nods to Relfire, Rune, and Imarea. "Who are they?"

"Friends. I promise, they're here to help."

Her gaze flicks to Sinbil, then Gwynlyn, and then Lydia. She looks at me. "Elseyf Star-Blade at your service."