Not much had changed in Windhelm while they had been away, and Candlehearth Hall was still doing great business in the evenings. Nora had secured the same rooms as before, paying for the three nights she expected to be here before heading over to Kynesgrove and her date with the dragon. Everyone had enjoyed a hot bath, and had gathered in the great room upstairs for meals and drinks. Nora noticed that the serving girls were doing a brisk side business, taking men, and sometimes women, to one of the upstairs rooms.

 

“How goes it?” she asked Susanna, who had the nickname The Wicked.

 

“May I help my Lady?”

 

“Just curious. How much does Elda get from your efforts?”

 

“My efforts? Oh, you mean whoring? Why would a high-born lady like yourself be asking, unless you want to avail yourself of my services?”

 

“Honey, I used to do that kind of work, and I was not born to the nobility.”

 

“Oh,” said Susanna, letting out a short laugh. “I'm sure Ms. Elda could use you if you wanted to do some work again.”

 

Now it was Nora's turn to laugh. People did what they needed to, getting by as best they could. If she hadn't been recognized by the Jarl of Whiterun as a hero, and all the gifts that came with that, she might have been working on her back even here. As it was, because of that and her own efforts at gathering treasure, she didn't have to let people use her for money. She preferred it that way. Sex was fun, and she rather enjoyed it without having to charge.

 

“How much does Ms. Elda take?”

 

“Oh, she takes half for the privilege of using her inn,” said Susanna in a tone that told she saw nothing wrong with giving up that large a cut of her hard-earned money to her madame. Nora thought that outrageous, but if the girls went along she wasn't going to say anything.

 

The next morning Nora decided to wander about the city some more, getting a better feel of life under Ulfric. First she visited the alchemy shop to give Nurelion the bad news. He found the old man coughing his lungs out upstairs after the apprentice had sent her up.

 

“I got the Phial, but unfortunately it had a crack in it.”

 

“You damaged it, you idiot.”

 

“No,” said Nora, starting to get angry. She had gone after this thing out of the goodness of her heart. Well, and for the possibility of the word wall she found. “I found it that way.”

 

“I should have figured that someone like you didn't have the skill to damage it. Here, for your troubles.” The man threw five coins at her, then looked away, having no further use for Nora.

 

Nora laughed as she walked away. She really didn't need the money, having taken thousands of Septims worth of loot from that crypt, but the old Altmer trying to insult her was hilarious.

 

“I heard what Master Nurelion did,” said the apprentice, handing her a fat bag of coin. “That wasn't right, so you deserve this.”

 

“It's okay. I wish we had found it intact so the old man could have died in peace.”

 

“You are a good woman,” said the apprentice, smiling. “Thank you.”

 

She wandered into the cemetery district, filled with the small tombs of heroes, and the long wall with the names of the thousands who had fallen in the defense of the city over the millennia it had stood. And stumbled onto a scene of horror. The body of a young woman lay on a slab, cut open, murdered, while guards looked over the crowd of gatherers who had come to stare. A woman in robes studied the body, obviously looking for clues.

 

“I recognize her,” said Nora in shock. “Susanna. From Candlehearth Hall.”

 

“Do you know what happened to her?” asked one of the guards, the same female officer who had led the soldiers that had arrested Rollf.

 

“No. I talked with her last night. Do you need help finding out what happened?”

 

“If you think you can do better than the guard?” asked the woman.

 

Of course I do, thought Nora, looking around at the people gathered, gawking. Nora had worked criminal cases as a public defender, and then learned much from Nick Valentine. These people knew nothing about criminal investigations.

 

“I do,” said Nora, looking into the woman's eyes.

 

“Then question these bystanders for me,” said the guard officer, dismissing Nora with a hand wave.

 

Nora talked to the people standing around, not getting much information. Most had wandered up after the guards had found the body, and most of them were women, in her experience not the preferred sex for serial killers. One older gentleman caught her eye, too old to fit the profile, but it was curious how he was just standing there, staring at the body as if fascinated.

 

“Calixto Corrium, owner of Calixto's House of Curiosities,” said the man by way of greeting. “And you are a truly lovely young woman.”

 

“What do you know about the murder?” asked Nora, her hackles rising as this man stared at her, like she was a prize side of beef and he was starving.

 

“Not much. I was taking a walk this morning when I saw this young lady lying dead on that slab. Such a waste. Always a shame when someone has to die.”

 

The way the man said that set off alarm bells in the ex-lawyer and part time detective's mind. Someone has to die.

 

“And you caught no sight of the killer?”

 

“No, I didn't see him. And when you have the time, might I suggest that you tour my House of Curiosities.”

 

Nora next talked with the woman who was examining the body.

 

“Anything unusual?” asked Helgird, the keeper of the House of the Dead, and Windhelm's version of a coroner. “Well, her coin purse was intact, so this wasn't a robbery, though most thieves don't kill their victims here, since the Jarl's justice would have them meet the headsman's ax. And the cuts are unusual, as if someone were trying to remove certain parts of her body, though I can't say why.”

 

Necromancy, was Nora's thought at hearing that. Someone wanted body parts for something. Were they trying to raise a Frankenstein's monster, like in the novel?

 

Nora shared what little she had discovered with the guard officer, letting her know she was willing to do some more investigating.

 

“Well, you certainly know what you're doing,” said the officer. “But I can't just allow you to move into our jurisdiction without permission from the top. You need to talk to Jorleif, the Jarl's steward.”

 

“I'll do that.”

 

“Everyone go do something else,” she told the party. “I want to keep a low profile in the palace.”

 

“Be careful,” cautioned Lydia, her face a mask of concern. “Try to avoid Ulfric if possible.”

 

Nora smiled. She intended to avoid Ulfric, but she was also interested in learning what she could.

 

The Dragonborn entered the palace through the front doors, the guards looking her over. Nora had on her armor, which seemed a part of her by now. Dawnbreaker was sheathed by her side, while her pistol was holstered right under her hauberk, out of sight. The guards seemed satisfied and motioned her through.

 

Nora saw Ulfric sitting on his throne, talking with a warrior. She had to admit that the man was handsome, and had a certain charisma about him. She reminded herself that this man had killed the husband of her friend Elisif in cold blood. No matter what else was true about him, he did not deserve her loyalty. The question still was if his cause was just? He wanted the land for his people, not an unreasonable goal. Nora had remembered that many Earth nations had thought the same in her time, and all of the problems that caused.

 

What about the non-Nords that populated the land, tens of thousands of them, many living in Skyrim for generations? It was not an easy question to answer, but there had to be a way that everyone could get along. Maybe not under the Empire, with its interminable rules and regulations. Definitely not under Ulfric, with his exclusionary policies. A middle ground, and who said what that was?

 

Nora saw a man in good clothing standing down from the throne on the right side, and she thought he might be the steward.

 

“The guard officer said I needed to talk with Jorleif,” she told the man, cringing inside as Ulfric turned his gaze her way.

 

“That's me. Were you offering to help them in catching the Butcher?”

 

“I am. I have some experience in tracking criminals, being a bounty hunter and all.”

 

“Then I give you permission. Tell the officer that I authorize you to work with her.”

 

“Such a beautiful Nord warrior,” said Ulfric, looking at her with his cold eyes. “And such a beautiful combination of hair and eyes. Black as a raven's wing, blue as the sky. And what is your name, my sister.”

 

The eyes were as dead and lifeless as Nora had ever seen, and she was sure the man didn't want to treat her as a sister. She knew that her hair color was not unheard of among the Nords, and was considered exotic among a very blond people. Most Nords had blue eyes, but her shade was also uncommon.

 

“Helga,” she said. “Helga Blackbriar.”

 

“Related to those Imperial loving merchants in Riften?”

 

Nora thought she might have made a mistake, but all she could do was play it by ear and hope it worked.

 

“I'm not siding with my family on politics. In fact, I really have no interest in this war. Not when there are scum I can track for money.”

 

“All true sons and daughters of Skyrim must choose sides, and there is only one side to choose.”

 

Nora didn't agree with that, and she was hoping the man wouldn't press her on joining the Stormcloak side. Ulfric waved a hand dismissively, and turned back to the warrior he had been speaking with. Nora walked away from the throne, forcing herself to not hurry so as to appear suspicious. She wanted to escape the gaze of that man on the throne. She blushed as she realized she was putting more swing in her hips, wondering what kind of game her subconscious was playing with her.

 

The Dragonborn breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the palace. She hadn't expected to be questioned by the Jarl, but she had survived the ordeal.

 

“Jorleif said it was fine if I conducted an investigation.” she told the guard officer, who she had learned was one Lieutentant Siffri Battle-born, and Nora had to wonder if she was related to the family in Whiterun. Not enough to question her, or to bring up the subject of Whiterun.

 

“That will take some of the pressure off. If you are any good at this.”

 

Nora took another look around the site. The body had been removed, so she headed over to the House of the Dead that opened up on this inner-city cemetery. Helgird was found preparing the body, her and an assistant cleansing it, cleaning off blood and dirt.

 

“Found anything of interest?”

 

“Well, she's dead, but that isn't unusual down here.”

 

Nora shivered slightly. Places like this had always creeped her out, even more so when on a world where the dead were wont to rise.

 

“Just a little joke,” said Helgrid, looking at the expression on Nora's face. “She has been cut open carefully, like she had been seen to by a healing mage with surgical experience, or someone who worked down here. Since I can vouch for both me and my assistant, I don't think it was anyone down here. But the person who killed her used ancient Nord embalming tools, still the best for cutting into bodies, which is why I am using them here.”

 

Nora looked over to see several of the wicked curved blades sitting on a tray. She really didn't like the look of them, but they did seem perfect for the job. Make sure to look at everything, Nick had told her. She needed to take in all the details and let her mind connect the dots.

 

“And look here,” said Helgrid, pointing the incisions she had opened on the left arm. “He took tendons and ligaments. So far that is all I have seen that is missing. But it looks like, based on this body and the others, he is trying to assemble a body for some reason. To put a spirit within that he wants back? Whatever the reason, it is looking like we are dealing with a necromancer.”

 

That was what Nora had thought. There seemed to be too many necromancers on this world, but she had thought all of them would hang out in a cave or fortress somewhere, a place where they didn't have to worry about the curious interrupting them.

 

“Do you know anyone in the city who might have such instruments?”

 

“No,” said Helgird, thinking, then smiling. “Calixto Corrium might have some. He collects ancient objects, and I think I've seen some fine examples of embalming tools in his House of Curiosities.”

 

And that was the man she had talked to at the murder site. The one who had set off the alarm bells. She might have to visit his House of Curiosities, but only with some of her team. The Dragonborn was tough, and hard to kill, but a poisoned dart or blade and she would be helpless, and the murderer might take what body parts he wanted from her.

 

Nora noticed the blood soon after leaving the House of the Dead. She wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed it before, though it was only a small splash. She wondered if the killer had thought he was going to be caught and had hurried on without his usual care. She moved toward the end of the cemetery, looking for more, then seeing some small drops on the stone. Walking on, hoping that this blood trail didn't end suddenly, she found a few more drops, leading into the wealthy section of the city. So the killer was one of the rich and famous, or had found a place here to work. She had noticed the covers on the stones that reminded her of the manhole covers that populated the streets of Earth, leading to sewers.

 

I hope he didn't go down there, she thought. She didn't like the idea of creeping around in such a smelly place, with dirty water and hordes of skeevers. Fortunately, she found some more drops, ending in the street outside of a large house with an abandoned look to it, weeds growing up between the stones. She tried the door. Locked, and when she tried to pick it all she accomplished was to break a bunch of picks. This was a better-quality lock than most, probably the top of the line for Skyrim, and she wondered if it had come with the house, or the killer had installed it to make sure no one found his secret. There was a smear of blood of door jam, which led her to believe she had hit the jackpot.

 

Nora hurried back to the Palace, to see if the Steward had a way into the house. She was relieved to find that Ulfric was no longer on his throne, though she heard his voice coming from another room.

 

“I think I found where the Butcher is taking his victims. Or at least the parts of them.”

 

She described the house and its environs, and Jorleif frowned. “That sounds like Hjerim, the house of Friga Shatter-Shield. Poor girl was one of the first victims of the madman. Maybe her mother, Tova might have a key.”

 

If it's even the same lock, thought Nora, heading out to see about the mother, munching on some bread she picked up from a vendor the market square. She knocked on the door of the Shatter-Shield estate and a Dunmer servant came to the door.

 

“I'm here on the Jarl's business to see Tova Shatter-Shield.”

 

“Ms. Tova,” called out the servant. “A woman to see you. Says she from the Jarl.”

 

An older sad eyed woman came to the door. It was obvious that they didn't want to let anyone in if possible. “Yes.”

 

“I am Helga Blackbriar, ma'am. And with the permission of the Jarl I am looking into the murders, including the one that took you daughter, Friga.”

 

“I don't like thinking about that,” said Tova, on the verge of tears, and Nora felt awful bothering her. But if she didn't get to the bottom of this more young girls would be dead.

 

“Please, Tova. I need to get into Hjerim. I want to find the person responsible for her murder. For all of the murders. So please help me. Do you have the key to that house?”

 

Tova turned and walked away, and Nora thought maybe the woman had had enough and was walking away from the memory. In a minute she was back, key in hand. “Please find her killer.” And with that the woman ran into the house, crying.

 

Nora was tempted to go into Hjerim, but she remembered what Nick had taught her. If you have backup, use it. So she went looking for her people, finding Sofia and Annekke in the marketplace, looking over some jewelry.

 

“I need you to come with me,” she told them. “I think I have a lead on the killer, and I need some people to watch my back.”

 

“Good call,” said Annekke, smiling slightly. “You're learning.”

 

The key fit the lock, and soon they were through the door and into a house that was full of dust and cobwebs. Nora noticed the footprints immediately, and some more small blood splatters, most old and dried out. She followed the prints to a chest sitting in an alcove. It was locked, but a quick turn of the knife with a pick inserted and it clicked open.

 

Inside the chest were a number of Beware the Butcher fliers, the ones Giordano had been complaining about, thinking the Jarl's men had been removing them. So, the killer had been doing it instead, and she wondered if anyone had seen the man at work removing them. And a journal, telling a chilling story of a man who had lost a loved one and discovered a means to bring her back. The writer ranted about how mages just went over the same old magic, while he was breaking new ground. As far as Nora was concerned he could be put into the ground, and his line of research die with him.

 

The party looked over the downstairs floor, then the upper story, always staying within sight of each other. Nora then returned to a side room that contained shelves and several wardrobes. It seemed strange to have so many in a small room without a bed. She checked out the shelves, finding more of Viola's fliers, and a strange amulet that had an evil feel to it. Examine the next wardrobe, breaking the lock with a knife, she found it empty, and a bloody palm print on the back panel. The man was clearly an amateur at this. In pre-war Boston he would have been caught soon after he started his career.

 

She probed the back, finding a switch that released the false back, and found herself looking into a room that sent a chill up her spine. Bloody bones, body parts, both fairly fresh and well-rotted. Along with some of the ancient Nord embalming tools Helgrid had talked about. And another journal.

 

“Well, I guess lunch is out for today,” said Sofia, looking ill.

 

Nora knew how Sofia felt. She had been feeling ravenously hungry before seeing this room, and now her appetite was gone. She still needed to put food in her body, appetite or no. Picking up the journal, she read more of the horrible story, including how the man was expecting to raise his dead loved one in a new body on the night of a conjunction. Said conjunction was coming soon.

 

Hurrying back to Jorleif, she was soon on her way to see Calixto about the amulet. But first she went up to talk with the court wizard, Wuunferth the Unliving, whose name was not one that made her comfortable.

 

“That's the necromancer's amulet,” said the old Wizard. Nora had asked him if Ulfric had much use for magic, and he had answered that he didn't have much use for Ulfric. She had liked the man from that moment, and resolved to ask him for some training in magic before she left the city.

 

A meal at the Dunmer restaurant, this time filled with dark elves, though the owner made sure to tell everyone that she was okay. Then over to the House of Curiosities.

 

“Yes, I have seen that amulet, or one like it,” said Calixto, holding the medallion in a possessive manner. “I think Wuunferth had one.”

 

Nice job of deflection, she thought, giving the man a smile that she didn't feel. She didn't think that Wuunferth was the killer. He struck her as dangerous, but not someone who would stalk young girls and kill them.

 

“Would you like a tour of my museum? My sister and I traveled all of Tamriel to gather these curiosities.”

 

“And can I meet your sister?”

Calixto looked down, obviously distraught. He looked up to meet Nora's eyes, the hint of tears showing. “My sister died, unexpectedly.”

 

“I'm so sorry,” said Nora, inwardly cheering. Now she had an established motive. Still not enough to hold up in court, though the Jarl didn't need that much to sentence a man. And she suspected this Jarl would have a man executed with little proof at all. Still, for her own peace of mind she had to be sure.

 

“But come. Let me show you what my sister and I collected.”

 

The collection was impressive, two large floors of artifacts. But she notice there were no Nord embalming tools. She asked Calixto about that.

 

“They were stolen, along with some other items.”

 

“Did you report it to the guard?” asked Sofia, just having to get her two cents in.

 

Calixto laughed. “For what purpose? They won't do anything unless they catch the thieves in the act. Or with the stolen goods. And no thief worth their salt makes it that easy.”

 

“Thank you for your time,” said Nora, bowing her head to the man.

 

“Glad to help.”

 

Nora thought she had her killer, and Calixto was at the top of her list. However, she needed more. Unfortunately, this world had no capability for scanning DNA, though she might be able to rig a test using her helmet sensors. But it would not constitute evidence to the Nords, who knew nothing about genetics, and still thought the male of the species was planting a seed in his woman, and not simply fertilizing the egg which was the most important component.

 

It was starting to get late by the time Nora got back to the palace, but Wuunferth was still up, reading another book. She told the mage of her findings, and he walked over to a table and casts several spells, then consulted some table.

 

“There will be an event at nightfall tomorrow. In the market square. Be there, and you can catch your killer red handed.”

 

“Thank you, Master Wuunferth,” said Nora, very grateful that this mage was not her quarry. “I'm wondering if you might give me some training in destruction. And I would like to look over the spellbooks you might have for sale.”

 

She trained with Wuunferth for over an hour, the man correcting some of her motions, smoothing out her casting, so she could move from spell to spell with speed and accuracy. She then bought the spell tomes for Longstride and Drop Zone from Alteration; Creeping Cold and Rift Bolt from Destruction; and Dispel Magic from Illusion. Enough to keep her busy through the next five evenings, and allowing her to run even faster, land unharmed from a long drop, some additional harmful effects of cold and shock, and the ability to dispel effects cast by other mages.

 

“And I recommend that you enroll in the College in Winterhold,” said the old mage after casting a familiar spell and whistling as he read her magicka store. “I don't always see eye to eye with them, but they know how to teach. Better than I do.”

 

“I'm heading there right after I take care of my business here,” she said, the old mage nodding his approval.

 

Her business done in the palace, Nora headed back to Candlehearth Hall, getting a meal, some drinks and a bath. The day had been long and stressful, but she decide to hit one of the spell tomes before heading to bed. Tucking into Longstride, she learned how to increase her already formidable speed for a brief time. She could think of many useful situations for that, and it would really catch her enemies off guard. Especially if her shout was still cooling off.

 

“Sofia,” she said, approaching the spellsword. “Mind if I borrow Valdimar tonight. If he's willing.”

 

The smile the man gave her let Nora know he was willing. Sofia seemed to be thinking it over, then laughed. “Of course you can. And while you're with him I might chat up some of the sailors in the great room.”

 

“I will spank you for that, wench,” growled Valdimar, his quick laugh belying his words.

 

“You can join us if you want, Sofia,” said Nora, her mind thinking of the possibilities.

 

“Why not,” said Sofia. “Then I can make sure the big fellow comes back to me.”

 

The next day seemed to drag by, the hours not going by fast enough to suit the Dragonborn. But finally it was near sundown, and Nora found a good place in the market to conceal herself without catching the attention of the few guards still out. Only a couple of stalls were still open, and there were few customers about. The temperature fell quickly as the sun went away, and Nora found herself shivering, wishing she had gone ahead and worn all of her winter clothing.

 

Finally, there was just one woman still lollygagging around, talking with Niranye, who was looking impatient to lock her things up in the chests at her stall and get home. Finally the customer walked away, heading for the northern way out of the market, near a solid mass of shadows. The guard was now chatting with the half Altmer, someone he knew well, and helping her stow her products so she could get home.

 

Nora followed the woman with her eyes, moving quietly in the shadows. And then the shadows on the other side of the plaza moved, a dark figure coming out behind the woman, an arm raised, holding some kind of weapon.

 

“Wuld,” shouted Nora, moving in a blur to come up beside the man. She reached a paw out at speed and grabbed the hand, twisting so that the object in his grip dropped to the ground.

 

“What?” exclaimed the man. “Guard,” he shouted. “I'm being assaulted.”

 

The guard ran over, pulling his blade. Sofia and Annekke came out of hiding, blocking the way so that explanations could be given.

 

“This woman attacked me,” shouted Calixto, struggling to break away from the iron grip of the Dragonborn.

 

“He lies,” said his potential victim. “She just appeared by his side, and I saw him drop this.” The girl picked up the object he had dropped, a curved Nord embalming tool.

 

Sharp, and just the perfect weapon for someone well versed in anatomy to drive into the brain stem of the victim, killing her silently and instantly. And then he could quickly drag the body away to whatever secondary workshop he had established.

 

“Master Corrium,” said the guard, who recognized him instantly. “You are under arrest for the attempted murder of a citizen of Windhelm. And I suspect that is just the tip of your crimes.”

 

More guards came at the call of the one who was on the scene, Calixto was restrained and led away. Glaring the whole time at Nora. That look sent a chill down her spine. Even captured and under control the man radiated menace.

 

“Come to the palace tomorrow,” said a guard in the ornate armor of an officer. “I'm sure the Jarl will reward you for your work in bringing this man to justice.”

 

Nora wasn't sure if that was a good idea, being around Ulfric. She thought she might lay low the next day, then leave for Kynesgrove, spending the night there so she would be ready for the dragon.

 

The next morning, while having breakfast at the inn, Nora was surprised to see the young guard officer, Lieutentant Siffri Battle-born, come into the inn with a couple of men.

 

“Helga. Good work on catching the killer, though I never would have thought it would be a respectable citizen like Calixto. Well, he's no longer a problem. He hung himself in his cell, and we found a confession letter on the table. And the address of another house he had been using. I thought you might want to come along to check it out.”

 

“Thank you,” said Nora, wolfing down the last of her food and getting up. “The rest of you, go ahead and enjoy the warmth of the inn. I'll be right back.” She thought it better if her followers weren't exposed to the horrors of this killer, while she wanted to finish the task she had started.

 

The new house was also a horror factory. Body parts everywhere. The tools of his trade. A summoning circle, candles on the cardinal points. And in one room a body that had been assembled from parts, almost complete and ready for the spirit it was meant to house. That spirit would remain in whatever afterlife it now inhabited, and maybe her brother would join her.

 

“And now,” said Siffri, looking into Nora's eyes, “the Jarl would like to speak with you.”

 

“I just did the job I thought I needed to do,” said Nora, trying to get out of that meeting. “I don't need the Jarl's thanks.”

 

“Jarl Ulfric has insisted, Thane Nora,” said Siffri, a slight smile on her face, while Nora felt almost overwhelming panic coming over her. “He told me to promise you that you would not be harmed.”

 

Nora eyes darted around the room, taking in the numerous guards, trying to plan the assault that would get her out of the house. She thought she could kill these guards, and probably the ones outside, but most likely not without injury, which would slow her down afterwards. Besides, she really didn't want to harm these people who were only doing their duty.

 

“Jarl Ulfric is a man of his word, Dragonborn. If he says you will not be harmed, you can rest assured that you will walk out of the palace, whole, after the meeting.”

 

Nora shrugged and tried to relax. If Ulfric was a man of his word he would talk and she would walk afterwards. If he turned out to be a liar, she could probably find a way to kill him, even if it cost her own life. Not that she wanted to die, and this world didn't need her to. Ulfric might be a threat, but nowhere near that embodied by Alduin.

 

The dozen guards formed around her to escort her to the palace. She was not threatened, weapons were not drawn, but these men and women seemed resolved to deliver her, alive, to their Jarl. Her sharp eyes noted more guards, these with bows, on the rooftops, and several at every interchange of streets. They had her boxed in, and her people were not aware of what was going on.

 

Ulfric sat his throne, looking down at her with a smile on his face. His eyes were still cold, but Nora didn't pick up menace from the man.

 

“Thane Nora Jane Adams of Whiterun,” said Ulfric. “Or was it President Adams of the Commonwealth?”

 

“How did you know?” asked Nora, seeing no reason to deny it now.

 

“Oh, you played a masterful role, and if you didn't have so many of the traits my spies reported to me, you probably would have gotten away with it. But with the look of a Nord, with a color of hair rare in our people, and eyes rare among any of the races of Tamriel? A Daedric artifact at your side. Carrying yourself like a born noble, fine armor and wealth aplenty. You look nothing like the Blackbriar family you claim to belong to. And to top it off, you were heard to shout in the market last night when you apprehended the killer. You have my gratitude for that if nothing else. But to come and spy on me for my enemy?”

 

“I didn't come to spy for the Imperials, Jarl Ulfric.”

 

“You can call me Ulfric, Nora. And you were what in your world? A queen and a general?”

 

“President was an elected position, though I was voted in more or less against my will. Because for some reason the fools trusted me to do a good job. And yes, I led many armies.”

 

“So in our terms a queen. And what were you doing here?”

 

“Well, besides coming into your Hold to kill the dragon that will rise near Kynesgrove tomorrow, I wanted to see the truth of you with my own eyes, and not take the word of people who would make me their weapon. Their pawn.”

 

“A wizard and a Dragonborn, with weapons like none ever seen on this world. And you walked right into my city without letting me know. A visiting noble from a neutral power. If you had announced yourself I would have given you a luxury suite in my palace.”

 

“And I wouldn't have learned so much about your people.”

 

“And what did you learn about my people?” asked Ulfric, leaning forward in his chair, eyes narrowing.

 

“Oh, mostly that they were just people, trying to get on with their lives as best they could despite the turmoil you and the Imperials are stirring up. Some were just as bigoted and despicable as I had heard, most were not. The same as people in Whiterun, Solitude and Morthal. My heart goes out to them, to all of Skyrim, when there are so many other threats, dragons, the Thalmor, that need addressing.”

 

“So, you said you were spying for yourself. Why?”

 

“To make up my own mind on who was right and who was wrong. I think you are wrong.” There were gasps around the court, and Ulfric barked a short laugh. “But so are the Imperials, letting the Thalmor step on the rights of the Nords to worship who they want. Someday that threat needs to be addressed, but only after the dragons.”

 

“So, you are against the Thalmor, and for the worship of Talos. So why not join me? I would have you by my side as queen, and a general in my army.”

 

“Because I am not sure your way is best. There must be some middle ground all of the people of Skyrim can agree on.”

 

“And if there is no middle ground?” asked Ulfric, his voice crackling with the unreleased power of his voice.

 

“Then I will have to make it myself,” said Nora, letting the power of her Thu’um, greater than Ulfric's, creep into her words.

 

Ulfric laughed. “I like you. You have an indomitable will, the type of spirit that can change worlds. My better judgment says I should hold you prisoner until you come over to my side. But my instincts warn that to hold a woman like yourself against her will would just lead to hatred and resentment, and neither of us would get what we want. And Kynesgrove is a nice little village, and there's a dragon to be slain, permanently. Something me and mine can't do. So you are free to go, and as long as you remain neutral you are welcome in my territory. Someday I hope you will see the righteousness of my cause, or at least not pick the other side.”

 

That really couldn't have gone better, thought Nora as she walked out of the palace. Ulfric had all but given her free rein of his Hold, as well as the others pledged to his cause. As long as she didn't declare for the Imperials. She saw no problem with that, and really had no intention of supporting the Empire she had seen, unless it made some fundamental changes in the way it did business. Including banishing the Thalmor from its territory. She loved Elisif, and still resented Ulfric for killing the young Jarl's husband. But even Elisif had seemed resentful of an Empire that tried to reduce her to a figurehead.

 

So Nora Jane Adams, Thane of Whiterun and Morthal, President of the Commonwealth. Sole Survivor and Dragonborn, headed back to the inn. She couldn't wait to let her people know what happened. And resolved to take greater precautions in the future when trying to operate covertly. These people may not have been as advanced as those on her world, but many of them had brains every bit as good as the smartest in the Institute, and she needed to treat them as such.