For All of Skyrim

Chapter 5: Falk

After changing and washing up, Falk almost jogged to the Jarl's receiving room. His strange encounter with Elisif had him a bit on edge, and he didn't want to be late after she had shown him such understanding. He wondered what she had meant when she remarked on his clothes, and he wondered if he had imagined her blush. After he had seen her in her shift a month ago, she had been more fidgety and short with him. Perhaps she was still embarrassed, and bringing up clothes at all reminded her of the memory that she'd rather forget. There was a part of Falk, a hopeful one, that imagined that her flustered behavior had more to do with her caring for him. His more critical and rational side always won out though, and he reached the conclusion that he always had: She could never care for him.

As he entered the open receiving room, he noticed many of the usual courtiers were already seated and mingling with one another. There was an autumn chill in the air, even inside the palace walls. Falk welcomed it, happy to see the summer heat go, especially in a crowded room. Maids scurried about with full trays of fruits and cheeses, desperate to avoid the scorn and eye contact of every noble person in the room. Falk cringed when he overheard a man called Erikur hit on one of the young maids, all the while crunching on grapes. He was a disgusting man who owed his place at court to what Falk only assumed to be back alley schemes. On paper, he earned his station as a Thane, but he certainly didn't embody what it meant to be a nobleman. Before he could intervene, the girl hurried away. Falk was relieved for the maid's sake, but slightly disappointed that he couldn't take Erikur down a peg. He shook his head in disbelief that such a man was even allowed into the palace, and searched the room for his fellow council members.

Sybille stood as she always did, close to the Jarl's chair, and eerily still. The court Wizard was cold and stone faced, but she was talented and trustworthy as far as Falk could tell. There was something unnerving about the woman though. The way she tilted her head to the side when he spoke to her, like she was a predator sizing up her prey, was incredibly unsettling. She was definitely not someone he sought conversation with, but he was thankful to have her on their side with the chaos that Skyrim had recently been thrown into.

Bolgier Bearclaw, Elisif's personal guard, was as emotionless and stoic as ever. Bolgier's eyes were always scanning the room, looking for any sign of trouble. He was good at his job, and Falk was thankful that he kept Elisif safe, but he was as easy to talk to as Sybille which wasn't saying much.

As he continued across the room, his gaze fell on Elisif, and he was surprised to find her eyes already on him. Her eyes then went wide and she looked away, clearly embarrassed to be caught starring at him. He noticed her fingers gripping the arms of her chair, and her cheeks were flushed. He wondered if these awkward moments would ever cease between them. He desperately wished she would go back to speaking comfortably with him. Doing his best to act composed, he strode to stand beside Sybille.

"You're late" Sybille ground out from behind a fake smile.

"I'm not." Falk replied simply, looking at the line of court petitioners starting to ascend the Blue Palace steps.

"What were you doing Falk? Having a tryst with a maid in the stables?" She pinched tiny flames between her fingers as she spoke, clearly bored and looking to ruffle Falk's feathers. "You look rather... unkept." Before he could respond, Elisif cleared her throat. Falk looked back at her only to see a serious and somewhat annoyed expression on her face. "Shall we begin?" She asked giving Sybille and Falk meaningful looks. "Yes my Jarl." The two of them replied in unison. Falk dared not directly glare at Sybille, because he was quite sure she could turn him into a mud crab if she wanted, but he wasn't shy about letting his own annoyance show on his face.

The first petitioner walked forward. The woman held a basket of lavender and death bells in a basket slung across her arm. The cascade of purple was beautiful to be sure, but the presence of death bells gave Falk pause. Sybille even stiffened behind him. Death bell was poisonous through and through, truly living up to its name, and it wasn't common for the people of Skyrim to pick them unless they were up to something nefarious. The woman must have sensed the tension in the room, and laughed nervously.

"I was asked to create poison tipped arrows for the war efforts. I was wondering if I could be provided with a guard escort when I go to harvest them in the marshes outside of Morthal." Falk then recognized the woman as Angeline Morrard's niece, Vivienne Onis, who often helped her Aunt run the apothecary shop in town.

"Vivienne, correct? Who asked you to do this?" Elisif asked, some heat behind her words. Falk had the feeling that who ever the order came from was about to regret it immensely. The woman hesitated now, suddenly aware that Elisif had not been informed of this information, but Falk nodded to her encouragingly prompting her to continue.

"An imperial soldier came to my Aunt's shop and said the orders were directly from General Tullius."

Elisif's face looked calm but Falk could see the anger in her eyes, "I'm sorry he got you involved in this Vivienne, I do not think your services will be necessary beyond the wonderful healing potions you and Angeline have kindly helped create for our soldiers." She pinched the bridge of her nose, unable to contain the frustration she felt, "You will be sent reimbursement for the supplies and ingredients that we have made you waste, I do apologize."

Vivienne awkwardly thanked the Jarl and left the Blue Palace like it was on fire. After that, a steady stream of villagers came to petition the court. Most who stood before the Jarl pleaded for resources: food, tools, iron, everything that was difficult to promise when the war and the blight of dragons plagued Skyrim. Elisif had to patiently explain that very thing to each petitioner, and Falk could tell it was starting to wear on her. She of course gave what she could to her people, because that was in her nature, but she also set boundaries with them. Falk had a feeling that Elisif desperately wanted to leave in order to verbally thrash Tullius. He noticed her eyes darting towards the exits every few minutes. He prayed that he would get to somehow witness Elisif tearing into Tullius, but with the way she kept him at a distance as of late, he had a feeling he wouldn't be invited.

Just as the final petitioner left the room, and Falk expected Elisif to leap from her chair, heavy footsteps echoed up the Blue Palace stairs.

"Another for you my Jarl." A guard announced, a hint of surprise underlaid in his tone.

The entire room waited, and everyone seemed to hold their breath at once in expectation. Then, a large figure appeared at the top of the stairs, eclipsing the two average sized guards on either side of him. The male dark elf scanned the room, unfazed by the many sets of eyes trained on him. His long hair was tied to one side of his head, and he wore a nobleman's doublet that looked as though it might rip at the seams. It didn't suit the man, Falk thought eyeing him, it was like looking at an animal wearing clothes. No, this man was made for armor, and Falk wondered what he was playing at, appearing before the Jarl with clothes he had clearly just purchased without a proper fitting. The people of the court murmured and gossiped to each other as the hulking male strode towards Elisif. Falk dared a look at his Jarl, to gauge her reaction to the newcomer, and was shocked to see that in her expression there seemed to be a hint of recognition of the man. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and her breathing was shallow. Just who in Oblivion was this person? Without further thought, Falk placed himself between the rather large petitioner and Elisif, and held a hand against the man's chest to stop him where he stood. The dark elf looked down at Falk like he was nothing but a pest, something to be swatted away or stepped on, but he held his ground. Something within him screamed that this stranger was a threat, and he couldn't live with himself if he allowed him to get too close to Elisif.

"Your name sir," Falk instructed through his teeth, "and why you have come."

"Mathis Stryde" the man's expression darkened, "and I wish to speak with the Jarl not her panting lap dog." Falk's hand that rested on the man's chest gripped the cloth beneath it, but before he could make the angry reply he intended to, he heard a lady of the court say aloud, "Oh by the Divines, that's the Dragonborn."