Survivor (A Skyrim Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Twenty Six

"How dare they!"

Ulfric's loud, booming voice echoed around the Throne Room, followed by a bang as he smashed his fist angrily on the arm rests of the throne.

"Insolent fools! Are these Redguards not aware of how much of a threat these vampires are? Or do they just want to pretend Tamriel is at peace?"

Jorleif sighed grimly, "If only that were the case."

Ulfric got up and paced the room, reading the letter out-loud mockingly. "To His Majesty High-King Ulfric Stormcloak, we in Hammerfell are most honoured that you thought highly enough of us to request aid and that we are viewed as valuable allies. However, I regret to inform you and your countrymen that we will not being joining forces with Skyrim to defeat this vampire fear. You must understand that our first priority is ensuring the safety of the people of Hammerfell, so our men are remaining where they are most needed. You have our best wishes and we hope you succeed in your endeavor. Signed Rissan Kosan, Steward to the High-King of Hammerfell."

He waved the letter in the air, almost as if doing so would change the words written.

"'Vampire fear'? They think this is some petty little mishap, some problem we're too weak and afraid of to resolve! It's...infuriating!"

I went to his side, gently turning his face towards me with one hand and the other on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast in his rage.

"Calm down, my love. It is done. The Redguards have made their decision so there's no more that we can do. We still have the Orcs behind us, as well as the Khajiit."

"The cats came with a price though," he grumbled, "one I'm reluctant to pay. They aren't allowed into our cities for a reason."

I lifted a brow. "And what reason is that, exactly?"

He hesitated and scratched his cheek the way he always does when he's thinking hardly. Ulfric thinks he can catch me out, but I've known him long enough now to have picked up on his habits.

"They have a habit of stealing in the night with their enhanced vision. They're not trustworthy."

"Oh, and a Nord will crack your skull with a huge battleaxe if you look at him the wrong way - they're not trustworthy." I crossed my arms. "Ulfric, you're being prejudice and stereotyping them. The Khajiit in the travelling caravans have always been welcoming when I've traded with them. They just want to feel less separated from the rest of us. Letting them into cities isn't a big thing to ask for."

"But the amount of gold they want is."

Jorleif piped in, "I'm afraid the High-King is right on that matter, my lady. Our coffers are already run dry rebuilding from the last war; the construction of the warships, library, and defenses were no cheap business either. We have nothing to pay the Khajiit with apart from promises."

He opened the heavy ledger placed on the table beside him, the yellowed pages covered with figures from corner to corner. Jorleif pointed to the latest balance of Skyrim's finance.

"We're in debt by two million septims?" I whispered incredulously. "How? To who?"

"Like I said, running a Kingdom is no cheap business. Most of the money owed is, ironically, to Cyrodiil, but I believe some of that belongs to Elsweyr too."

Ulfric slumped down noisily on his throne and stared bitterly into the distance. "So we'll borrow gold to pay for Elsweyr's help from Elsweyr...Oh, the irony. It's almost funny, in a pathetic kind of way."

Jorleif looked to me warily. Although Ulfric's mood-changes have somewhat calmed in the past couple of months and Jorleif has known him for the longest, the steward still wasn't entirely sure what Ulfric's reaction would be to even the smallest of things sometimes.