The Legends Of Skyrim {SANDERS SIDES}

The Court Mage

Roman walked up to the gates of Whiterun, whistling a tune to himself. He had heard after stopping by Riverwood that he was wanted by the Jarl, so here he was, confidently yet cautiously approaching two guards standing firmly by the doors to the city.

Upon seeing him, one guard began to open the door and they both welcomed him in.

"The Jarl is waiting for you in Dragonsreach, sir," They said, with a small, respectful incline of their heads.

Roman smiled. "Thank you, I'll make my way there as soon as possible."

The guards bowed their heads again and let the Nord pass. Roman strolled into the city, instantly noticed by a woman working at a grindstone to his right and a few people simply wandering the streets.

"Is that-"

"That is-!"

"Mr Wolf, sir-!"

"Wasn't he the one who got rid of the bandits at Rorikstead-?"

"I've heard he's quite the charmer-!"

"A true lady's' man, according to my cousin-!"

"Excuse me, Mr Wolf-?"

"I can't believe he's here-!"

Roman smiled and waved at the crowd that formed around him. A young, short wood elf seemed especially eager to catch his attention as the hero wormed his way to the market place, where the number of onlookers more than doubled. Several Whitern guards pushed past the civilians.

"Alright, alright," Grunted one. "Give the guy some room, will ya? He's on official duty, stop crowding him."

"I don't mind," Laughed Roman, as the crowd reluctantly began to back off. "You should try to deal with the crowds in Rorikstead."

The guard chuckled in response, knowing full well the amount of fans Roman had to deal with there. Eventually, the civilians let Roman and the guards pass finally through the rest of Whiterun and they began to make their way up to Dragonsreach.

There was silence until Roman cleared his throat. "So, what's the problem? Bandits? Giants? Draugr infestation in the wine cellars?"

All the guards looked at each other. "It's a little more sensitive than that," Mumbled one guard, glancing quietly to the ground.

"Oh, wow, a funeral pyre," Commented Roman, twisting over his shoulder to a well-built bed of logs, still being assembled by a few servants. "Incredible, I've never seen one so close up before... Oh, wait, this is the bad news, isn't it?"

"Afraid so," Sighed a female guard. "The Court Wizard, Farengar, has just passed away in a potions accident and we need you to... Well, the Jarl will tell you."

Roman blinked, suddenly feeling the small weight that everyone else seemed to have been carrying on their shoulders. He swallowed, and let the silence fall back over them as the guards opened the doors grandly. Everyone inside wore black, or other monochrome colours and dark banners replaced Dragonsreach usual yellow emblems. The fire pit still crackled heartily but no one was eating at the tables, and the Jarl looked up, his eyes tired.

Jarl Barlgruuf had many grey streaks in his hair and his eyes were wrinkled with age. Once, during the great Civil War, he had been powerful and intimidating but now he was an old man, suffering the loss of his oldest friends.

The young hero bowed his head, awkwardly biting his lip, unwilling to see the now ageing man.

"You can look at me, Wolf," The Jarl called out, a smile in his voice and Roman flushed, looking up. "I get this reaction a lot. Just because my body is dying on me, doesn't mean my mind isn't as sharp as an Imperial's' blade."

"Sorry, sir," Roman gushed. "I just- Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I? I end up doing it a lot, I should probably stop, I'm gonna stop."

Balgruuf laughed quietly to himself, chuckling hoarsely. "I'm sure you've heard of Farengar's' death by now. It's a shame your first visit to Whitrun would be on such a sad occasion."

"Yes, sir," Agreed Roman. "I hope the dragons bless his soul."

The Jarl nodded, eyes narrowing curiously. He stood up and gestured for Roman to follow him as he made his way slowly to the plates and jugs lining the large tables around the fire pit, pouring the both of them a glass of mead, holding one out for Roman. "Now, that's quite a curious saying. I've heard you've got an odd manner of speech but it's not often you hear a Nord talk of dragons in such a sense."

Roman blinked, taking the glass and smelling the fine alcohol. "W-Well, more Nords should, in my opinion. They are quite magnificent creatures." He took a sip awkwardly

"Very true. And Farengar would have agreed." A brief moment of silence passed and the Jarl sighed, sitting down on one of the benches, gesturing once more for Roman to the same while nursing his mead. "I am very close to death now, Wolf," He began remorsefully. "Soon, Frothar shall become the next Jarl and I will join Farenger and Irileth in the sky. But even though I shall go soon, I need a new Court Mage and you-"

"Nope, sorry, I know no magic," Interrupted Roman. "Broadswords, axes and hitting things, they're kinda my thing-"

Balgruuf interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "No, no, I am not asking you to become my new mage. I want you to fetch my new mage."

Roman frowned. "Sir?"

"The College in Winterhold has already told me they have a perfect candidate," Jarl Balgruuf continued. "A young dunmer, incredibly experienced in almost every branch of magic. I want you to escort him safely back here, so he can help guide Frothar when he takes over the hold."

The young man nodded. "So, I got to get to Winterhold? Sure, just give me a time to go and-"

"Uh, uh, uh! Not so fast." Roman sagged with a pout and the Jarl continued to dump information on him. "I want you to also take one of our most promising guards. It'll be a bit of a field trip for you and he's to try and stop you from getting distracted with your, 'heroic deeds'."

"But, sir, I will make your quest my top priority!" Insisted Roman.

The Jarl arched an eyebrow. "Now I know you are lying to me. The great Roman Wolf, despite all his credibilities, is infamous for getting distracted when a pretty face is involved. Don't worry, I'm sure you and Logan will get along fine." He gestured to Roman's' guard entourage, still stationed up by the throne. "Bring him in."

Roman watched the guards bow and leave, as he swallowed quietly, taking a sip of the mead again. "So, uh, who's Logan?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure you two will get along fine. He'll be the brain to your brawn. And I'm pretty sure you'll need some brain to balance out all your physical attributes."

"Not to seem rude to you, sir, but I don't really like being insulted."

"I wasn't insulting you. I was just stating facts. Saying that Logan is to fill in the parts of logic that you are missing is not being rude, just honest."

Roman made an offended noise.