The Knight (A Skyrim Inspired Series)

Three

The smell of soot was strong, and looking upon the damage, any mere traveler would have thought they'd stumbled upon a ruin. The remnants of the shout had petrified the battle, and as of that moment, I'd become an eyesore to the surrounding warriors.

Between the falling ash and gazing eyes, the silence had become more numbing than the night cold, and I overlooked the remaining men with little to no remorse. Consequence meant little to me at that moment, and I took to the city gates in a wide march up the hill before meeting one of the guards.

"Imprison these rebels, now." I ordered, and looked at the flames that scattered the ramparts, ".... And gather water from the city rivers as well. We need to fight these fires before they get any worse."

There was swift action and many unsure nods, but the men abided nonetheless. As for myself, my mind had fallen to previous priorities. I needed to see if my wife and daughter were alright, and considering that I'd made my presence known to the entire province, I hoped to run into them quickly.

Inside the city, whiterun guards, mercenaries, and civilian men were scooping up damage or drowning flames out with buckets of water. My entry stalled many, and I received stares and appalled looks while I walked the main road.

However, when approaching my home, I was relieved to see it still standing, though it stood battered by a few burns. The door was also ajar, barely strung to its hinges with chips of wood collecting at steps.

If I had only known I'd been mistaken in the amount of damage my home had actually taken. It was a dreadful realization as I stepped through the doorway, my heart sinking and gut tangling..

It had taken a direct hit, a blistering hole vivid through the second floor. A catapult had launched its weight straight into the rear of my home, tearing apart the entirety of the second level, and leaving debris and hot stone scattered everywhere. Everything was covered in ash and smelled of soot, and I kicked stones away in awe before struck with grief.

Upon the main floor, Lucia's belongings had been crushed, and from above, the bedroom cot hung in two, nothing but shredded and scorched pieces of bedding dangling from cliffs of wood.

My family... my home... I could see no signs of them, and immediately began digging through the rubble in hopes to uncover their remains. The night had not merely begun, but the thought of them being present in the house during the attack was not far-fetched.

With all of my strength, I tossed aside heavy stones and burned my hands removing pieces of wood.

I found nothing of them, both a relief and a worry as I looked around the home. The foyer at least remained unscathed, and I noticed the house blade that hung crookedly over the doorway.

The commotion outside had grown, and I was no longer a focal point as wails of children and women filled the city streets. The aftermath of the attack was beginning to take effect, and the crowds were gathering around the city well and up the main stairway into the Winds district.

Through the main gates, Stormcloaks were being dragged in by guards, cuffed and chained into lines leading into the barracks. Others were stiffly running with full buckets, splashing whatever flames they could before drawing from the many rivers dotting the city.

I had taken the house blade, and carried it against my shoulder, carefully weaving through the crowd towards the main stairway into the Winds district while keeping an eye out for my family.

My throat knotted at the many thoughts that crossed my mind. They could have been killed in the strike, or perhaps they were dying in the temple of Kynareth. They may not have even been in the city to begin with, making my search pointless as I made my way up the stairs.