The Silencer

Chapter 18

"And then he shouted. The king... he had no idea that a man could wield such power."

Leona's voice quivered as she recounted the tale of Ulfric Stormcloak, the air in the room growing thick with unease. The mere thought of a man, capable of such an act made my blood run cold. To challenge a king and win with nothing but a shout-that took more than boldness. It took a power that most of us could only dream of.

As the weight of her words sank in, my gaze drifted to Amon. He was already watching me, a knowing smile curling at the corners of his lips. That look-what did it mean? Did he know something I didn't? The unsettling thought lodged itself in my mind, refusing to let go.

"A shout?" Astrid's voice cut through the tension, a mix of curiosity and concern coloring her tone. Her hand tightened around the paper she held, as if bracing herself for the answer.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of the room's collective dread. The Brotherhood had faced many threats, but this... this was something different.

"Some teachings of the Greybeards," Festus interjected with a weary sigh. His voice carried the weight of years spent unraveling mysteries that should have stayed hidden. "Ulfric must have spent time with those priests to learn the Way of the Voice."

Grodyl's scoff broke the brief silence, his expression one of forced resignation. "The power of a dragon, wielded by a man. It's not just magic-it's something ancient."

"Like, Dovahkiin?" Asbjorn's question hung in the air, tension crackling between us as Astrid rolled her eyes, clearly irked by the reminder.

"Not quite," Grodyl replied, his voice thick with unease. "He might manage it once, maybe twice in his life. If it doesn't tear his voice apart the first time."

"I came as soon as I could, Speaker," Leona's voice carried a sharp edge of urgency, betraying the concern etched in her eyes. "I need to return to my post."

Astrid gave a curt nod. "Go, Leona. Stay vigilant and keep us informed."

Without another word, Leona turned on her heel, the heavy clank of her armor echoing through the room as she made her way to the portal. Beneath the soldier's steel, there was the heart of an assassin-one the ranks of Castle Dour remained oblivious to.

As the door closed behind her, Astrid's composed facade began to fracture. She sank into the central chair, the paper she held trembling as it met the table, her hand barely able to keep it steady. Her voice wavered as she spoke, the gravity of her words pulling the air from the room.

"The war has officially started." She exhaled a shaky breath, fighting to regain control. "Brothers and Sisters, if we are to survive, we must bide our time, as we always have, and wait for the right moment to strike. But before that..."

"Before what?" Festus snapped, the lines of his brow deepening with irritation. "Before the dragons swoop down and burn us all to ash? Or Ulfric's men storm our sanctuary?"

Grodyl's agreement came reluctantly, his voice laced with the frustration of a man trapped between impossible choices. "He's right. We need a plan, Astrid. We can't just sit and wait for death to find us."

"And what exactly would you have us do, Grodyl?" Asbjorn's voice dripped with venomous contempt as he turned his glare on the Dunmer. "Fight dragons? Charge at them with our swords and daggers?."

Grodyl's patience was thinning, his tone growing taut. "We need allies."

Astrid's gaze turned icy, her words as sharp as the blades they all carried. "You're suggesting we pick a side, then?"