It was two hundred years after the Oblivion Crisis. A time of war. A time of confusion. A time in which everyone's metal was tested, that is, all except those in the Capital City of Cirodiil. Most residents of the capital city were, to say the least...
The next thing Beric knew, his hands were bound, and he was in the carriage as it tottered back and forth on the rugged road beneath it. It wasn't quite as cold out. In fact, it would have been quite pleasant if Beric wasn't bound with rough ropes that were gripping his wrists. He looked around him. They were riding downhill into the valley he had seen earlier. There were pine trees dotted around them semi-blocking the view of the valley.
"Hello," came a strong Nordic voice right in front of Beric. He looked at the Nord that was dressed in the blue uniform, "You're not one of us, you were trying to cross the border weren't you, and you got caught in that ambush?"
"It was more like we were chased down," Beric said starting to remember Drake. He couldn't see him.
"I'm not one of you either, I'm not supposed to be here," a man sitting next to him complained, "The empire was fine until you Stormcloaks came along. And I would have gotten away with that horse as well if it weren't for you,"
"Well, I'm sorry we interfered with your plans, but we're serving a higher purpose than you, horse thief," the burly Nord said, "Where are you from?" the Stormcloak soldier asked
"It's none of your business where I'm from,"
"Pardon me," the Nord shrugged, "You?" the blue draped Nord asked Beric.
"C-Cirodiil," Beric stammered
"What brings you this way?" the Nord cocked his head.
"Running from the Altmer...They killed my father,"
"Hmm, I'm sorry to hear that, boy. That's hard," he said shaking his head. Beric looked to his right and saw another Nord with a great bear cape on his back and his mouth covered by a cloth wrapped around his head.
"Who's he?" Beric nodded to him.
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"That is Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, and rightful high king of Skyrim,"
As soon as he said that, the thief's eyes lit up, "Ulfric?"
"Yes,"
"Stormcloak? Stormcloaks?" Beric questioned.
"Yes. Stormcloak was a name given to him," he said motioning to Ulfric. We all bare the title of Stormcloak to differentiate between us and others who call themselves sons and daughters of Skyrim," the Nord explained.
"Quiet back there!" the driver shouted back. Beric looked ahead and saw that they were approaching a decently fortified village. "Helgan," Beric thought. As they came closer, the sound of a strong wind came from across the valley and something caught Beric's gaze on the small mountain rising behind him. Something large had moved, but when Beric looked, there was nothing. "Odd," he thought, "Must have been a flock of birds,"
