The Bloody Sword (Skyrim Fanfic on Hold)

Chapter 1

Jarl Barlgruff the Greater was awakened by his housecarl, Irileth. A Dark Elf from Morrowind.

"My jarl, we have important news from Rorikstead, come quickly." The Jarl, a noble and just man, quickly dawned on his robes and followed his housecarl to the war room with Legate Quentin, Aventus Avencinni, his steward, Farengar Secret-Fire, his court wizard and the succesor of the previous commander, Commander Aron Silvanious, a young and fresh-faced officer, straight from the ranks of the army already awake and waiting for him.

"What is this important news that you bring of Rorikstead that I have to wake up in the middle of the night?" The Jarl said, rather grumpily. "Well? Speak." He said after his first sentence.

"Jarl, we have disturbing news of a raid on Rorikstead, the owner of those lands was in town today. Rorik. We have an eye witness that saw the whole thing. Would you like to speak to him?" Commander Aron asked the jarl. This officer, not even having a beard but stubble. He is very young to take such a role of an officer but his experience in combat overpasses even the toughest leaders. Born to an Imperial family yet his mother a Breton, family moved to Skyrim from Cyroodill. Both parents Legates. He was first in the Imperial Legion but soon appointed to the role of commander after The Battle of Whiterun.

"Yes, I would very much would like to speak to him." Commander Aron nodded and led the Jarl to his throne where standing in front of the throne was a farmer. A man in a simple rugged trousers and a shirt with his hands showing the mark of a farmer being flanked by 2 burly guards in the traditional yellow guards uniform, hands on their swords and a shield on the left arm. Dirt stained nails and a dirt smudge on his face. When he saw the jarl, he bowed his head in respect. The jarl sat down on his throne, a simple wooden seat with gold lining the wooden frame. Irileth and Commander Aron flanking the throne.

"Now, sir, state your name and tell me what happened." The jarl told the farmer.

"My lord, my name is Garon Farm-hand ,I was delivering cabbages to sell to Markarth, I had to take a route from Rorikstead to reach the Reach. This time, I didn't want to use the cart so I wouldn't have to pay the coach. I had my own cart and a sturdy horse, as I was on the journey, I heard a scream. I dropped from my cart to check it out and there they were." Garon paused for a few moments, sweat started beading down his shirt, a look in his eyes that the jarl instantly recognized, an all too common look when soldiers face the inevitable. Fear.

"I saw the wildmen, war cries that could be heard from the mountains. They ran down the hill like mad men, the guards in Rorikstead didn't last long, they were overwhelmed and the inhabitants tried to flee, some were cut down and I don't know about survivors. That's all I saw."

"Thank you Garon, Aventus, please give Mr Garon here a bottle of the finest mead from my cellar. I am very grateful of your service and this is for your trouble." He reached out and gave him a pouch of gold Septims.

"Thank you, my lord." Garon said too stunned to say anything.

"Commander Aron, Irileth, assemble a troop of guards and march to Rorikstead, search for survivors and find out who did this." Commander Aron and Irileth saluted and walked to the barracks where a troop of rested guards stayed.