“I don’t believe this.” Swordsinger looked around the stuffed courtyard. “There were, what? Forty people when we came? There must be three hundred here.”

 

Hammerleaf shrugged. “About that. Guess that crown really worked.”

 

“I guess!” She shook her head and ducked back inside. “I have a meeting. Why do I have to go to meetings now?”

 

“That’s what happens when you get promoted. Have fun in there.”

 

She snorted. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they were about the war or something useful, but they’re always about piddling things.”

 

“Right. Like the infamous ‘pants must be tucked into boots’ rule.”

 

“Yes! Two hours wasted because some rich Nord saw some Stormcloaks out on the town looking ‘slovenly.’ I swear to Talos.”

 

“Do you?” He sounded amused.

 

“I’m a Stormcloak – I’d better! Have the company gathered in two hours, just in case this is actually something important.”

 

“Will do, oh fearless leader.”

 

She wrinkled her nose at him then turned down the hall toward the war room.

 

She knew the moment she stepped through the door that this wouldn’t be a meeting about boots – the only people in the room were Ulfric, Galmar, and the recently minted Silk. She stopped as the door closed behind her and tilted her head.

 

“Good, you’re here.” Galmar motioned and she moved to the map table. The small flags that demarked the holdings of the two sides made for a colorful display. “We need you to deliver a message.”

 

Swordsinger frowned. “A message? Surely a courier…”

 

“Not that kind of message.” Ulfric set a steel handaxe in the center of the table. “This kind of message.”

 

She stared at the axe and then lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I see. Whiterun, I take it?”

 

Ulfric and Silk exchanged glances, and Silk said, “I told you.”

 

 “So you did. Don’t be like Galmar, Ralof. I’ve already got one person who likes to say he told me so.” Ulfric turned back to Swordsinger. “I’m glad you understand. Don’t take the entire company – just a few hand-picked men. Too many would just get their hackles raised.”

 

She nodded. “I understand.” She picked up the axe and turned away.

 

“One more thing,” Galmar said as she reached the door. She glanced back. “I’m sure it doesn’t need said but tell your men to keep out of trouble. We don’t need the entire war knocked off kilter because some soldier got in a barfight.”

 

“Of course. We’ll be as discrete as mice.”

 

Galmar nodded and she turned and left the room.

 

She tried to keep her stride even and somewhat dignified, but the elation in her heart spilled out through her soles and by the time she reached the conference room, she was running nearly full tilt. She burst through the door and the entire room went still. She registered several looks of surprise before she turned to close the door. She felt like jumping up and down but somehow managed to constrain herself to merely skipping to the front of the room as the wild grin she had been holding back broke out of her grip.

 

Wooly scratched his beard. “Something tells me you’ve got good news. I take it it has something to do with that axe?”

 

The remark threw Swordsinger off a little. She frowned at the axe which, though she had just carried it through the halls of the Palace of Kings, she had somehow forgotten about. “No. I mean, yes, it…”

 

Pride laughed. “You’ve decided to change weapons! Is that it?”

 

Swordsinger glared. “Definitely not! Don’t make me send you back to Company D!”

 

“You wouldn’t!” Pride looked faux-scandalized.

 

“No, of course not. Now shut up. I’ve got news. The war is finally starting! I mean really starting!”

 

A burst of exclamations spread across the room. Swordsinger gave it a few seconds, then hefted the axe.

 

“This is Ulfric’s. We’re delivering it to Balgruuf in Whiterun.”

 

A collective gasp followed the shock that ran around the room from the Nords. The non-Nords looked confused.

 

Primrose cleared her throat. “Um. What does that mean? We’re giving him an axe?”

 

“Not just any axe.” Bent…er, Hammerleaf – she could not call him by his virgin name when she herself had given him his new name, dammit – grinned like a maniac as he explained, “It’s his axe. Ulfric’s.” Primrose’s expression remained blank, so he added, “It’s a declaration of intent. If Balgruff accepts the axe, he is on our side, and the heart of Skyrim is ours without a fight. If he returns it…”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Exactly. Either way, Whiterun will soon be ours. And that is half the war right there.”

 

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Swordsinger placed the axe on the table. “We’re leaving at dawn. I don’t want it to look like an invasion, so the entire company will move as close as we can get to the border and then Squad one will accompany me to Whiterun. Hopefully by the time we regroup, our territory will have expanded a great deal and we’ll have a staunch ally on our side. Either way…” She stopped and couldn’t keep the slow smile from curling her lips. “Either way, it is time for war.”

______________________________________
 

“…and then they held their damn war council right in front of us!” Swordsinger shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

Hammerleaf nodded. “Balgruff’s Dunmer lapdog was giving you the stink eye the entire time. Did you see how she reacted when you pulled out the axe? I thought we were going to have to start battle right then.”

 

“Well, to be fair, her job is to bodyguard Balgruff and I did pull out a weapon within striking distance of him. Do you think things would have gone better if we hadn’t shown up in uniform?”

 

“No.” Wooly tossed a log on the fire as he shook his head. “They had their minds made up long before we got there. They wouldn’t have talked about it so boldly in front of us had they really needed to discuss it.” He smiled as the flames reflected in his eyes. “I, for one, am glad he gave the axe back. I’ve been wanting to wipe that smug look off his face for ages.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Swordsinger tossed him a grin. “What did he ever do to you?”
 

“I’ll tell you what he did – he took our farm, is what he did. Or, his brother did, anyway, but when we went to Balgruff about it, he just told us to fuck off.”

 

“What? He actually said, ‘fuck off’?”

 

“Well…not in those words. But the effect was the same.”

 

“Aye, well.” Hammerleaf rested his hand on the shaft of his hammer. “They’ll both pay for their arrogance soon enough.”

 

Wooly snorted. “Not soon enough. Not for me, anyway. But yes – they’ll pay.” He stared into the fire and smiled. “They will pay dearly.”