Mists on the Mountains

Chapter 14: Re-knitting Bones

Chapter 14

Re-knitting Bones

"Those damn broken bones never heal quite right."- Vegnar, Nord mercenary. While original stated circa 1E 1206 the saying has since become a common utterance among injured soldiers of both king and coin.

Ulfric Stormcloak wasn't pleased with Galmar's suggestion. His brow was furled and chin propped upon a strong fist. Earning the ire of the future High King of Skyrim would have terrified most men.

But Galmar Stone-Fist was not most men.

"Galmar," Ulfric rumbled, tone verging on disappointment. "I trust your wisdom in all things. However this..." the words faded away as Ulfric searched for the way to properly explain his feelings, "Foolish quest, is so unlike you, old friend. It's reckless and foolish, and I won't sanction it. Especially not when it involves my very best warriors." At this point, those few remaining men who'd mustered the courage to continue their challenge would have backed down, apologising profusely for their foolishness.

Galmar Stone-Fist was not those men.

"My Jarl," he began, his gravelly voice containing a level of tact reserved for Ulfric alone. "I respect your wisdom. However, I assure you, the Jagged Crown is very real, and recovering it will help win this war."

"I don't need some ancient headpiece to convince the other Jarls to support me. My claim is legitimate. Furthermore, I do not want to risk the lives of my people in the pursuit of vanity." Ulfric paused, gazing out a nearby window. "I will not throw away lives sworn into my care for a babble."

"The support of Lelia Law-Giver, Korir, and Skald the Elder is a good start," Galmar continued undeterred by Ulfric's continued refusal, "However three Jarls aren't enough. You will need more. The people know of the Crown and with it on your head they will support their true king."

Ulfric pushed himself upright with a sigh. Without speaking he began pacing the length of the room. Galmar knew that meant he was deep in thought. Ulfric asked without looking at him, "What have you learned?"

Galmar responded, "According to both tradition and the ancient verses, the last king to wear the Jagged Crown was Borgas, centuries ago."

"Don't lecture me on Skyrim's history," Ulfric responded tersely. "I know of Borgas' defeat and subsequent entombment. I know how he was buried with the Jagged Crown on his head." Ulfric finally turned to face Galmar, unamused. "I'm also aware of what the tales say of Korvanjund Barrow."

Galmar waved, dismissing that concern. "The tales say Korvanjund was buried beneath the snow, vanishing from the surface of Skyrim. The king's final resting place was kept a secret to prevent grave robberies and desecration." Galmar chuckled. "Then, all who knew the Barrow's location were killed in battle. And so Korvanjund, and all its treasures, were lost forever."

"And the purpose of recounting this tale was?" Ulfric's words hung menacingly in the air, demanding a response.

Galmar smiled proudly. "I found it."

Ulfric's eyes widened ever so slightly. Only Galmar knew him well enough to catch it. "What?"

"A team of my scouts stumbled across it while searching for Imperials north of Whiterun. One fell into a snowbank that turned out to be a staircase. I had several of our scholars confirm the findings. This is the lost Barrow. My Jarl, all I need is your word."

Ulfric turned away sharply, his fur cloak billowing. Gazing out a window, Ulfric lost himself in thought. Galmar did not speak, respecting the unspoken request for silence. The only sound was Galmar's breathing, low and heavy.