I Woke Up Inside My Friend's Video Game

[Arc 2] Chapter 39. The Rescue

Arc 2. Face Your Death with Courage

The fog had thinned by the time we stopped, settling into low drifting sheets that clung to the ground like something unwilling to leave. We found a fallen log beside the road and made a brief rest there, the damp wood cold even through the layers of my cloak. Olly sat across from me, quieter than usual, his earlier questions still hanging in the air between us, waiting to be answered.

I didn't look at him right away. Instead, I watched the slow movement of the mist curling between the trees, gathering my thoughts like I was preparing for something heavier than a simple conversation.

"You wanted to know," I said finally, my voice low, steady. "Why I'm a wanted man."

Olly didn't interrupt this time. He just nodded, his eyes fixed on me, attentive in a way that told me he wasn't going to let this go.

"I was heading to Windhelm," I continued, resting my forearms on my knees. "Just passing through. I stopped at Whiterun for a night—Malik offered his place. Said I looked like I hadn't slept properly in days." A faint breath escaped me, something between a laugh and something else. "He wasn't wrong."

The memory settled in slowly, pulling me back whether I wanted it or not.

"I was leaving the next morning when I heard them arguing. Fralia Gray-Mane and Idolaf Battle-Born. Loud enough that half the street could hear it." I glanced up briefly, meeting Olly's gaze. "Thorald Gray-Mane. Missing. Taken. And not by bandits."

Olly leaned forward slightly. "Thalmor."

I nodded once.

"Northwatch Keep," I said, letting the name settle between us as my eyes drifted past Olly and into the distance. "They didn't even bother hiding it. Just took him. No trial. No explanation. Like they had the right."

The memory didn't come back gently. It came like cold water—sharp, immediate, unavoidable. I could feel it again, the bite of the sea wind cutting through my armor as I stood on the ridge overlooking the keep. The cliffs dropped straight into dark, restless waves below, and the entire place stood like it had been carved to defy the world itself. Dominion banners hung from its walls, unmoving, like even the wind refused to touch them.

Olly shifted closer, brows drawn together. "You just went in there? Alone?"

"I tried not to," I said quietly, a faint exhale slipping through my nose. "I told myself I'd just confirm it first. That I'd come back with a plan. With people. Something smarter."

I shook my head slightly.

"I didn't."

From where I stood, I had watched them. Two guards at the gate, rotating in perfect intervals. Archers along the walls, spaced evenly, eyes sharp. No gaps. No carelessness. This wasn't a bandit camp. It was discipline. Structure.

"It wasn't just Thorald," I continued, my voice tightening slightly. "There were others. Nords. Civilians. Some barely able to stand. They weren't prisoners of war... they were being held."

Olly's expression darkened. "Interrogation?"

I nodded once.

"That was the word they used," I said. "Didn't change what it looked like."

The wind had been loud that night, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of someone screaming inside stone walls.

"I approached the gate just before dusk," I continued, my focus narrowing as the memory took hold. "No stealth. No tricks. I walked straight up to them."