Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale-Chapter 490 - CVII: Closure And Next Steps

(Reyvin's POV)

My foot tapped the freshly unfrozen sand below me as I stared at the bound serpentine dragon with a fair bit of irritation in my eyes. The creature was no doubt just as miffed as I, being bound in barbed chains as he was...

Even if that fact brought little relief.

On the one hand, the little shit killed around three dozen of my men and froze most of the rest while planning to no doubt do unspeakable things to them later...

Considering its master's patron I'd best leave that particular train of thought.

Anyway! On the other hand he was mind controlled into doing all of it, and it wasn't mere illusion that did the controlling either, but a straight up soul-based reality manipulation attack.

"What to do with you?" I mutter mostly to myself, causing the dragon to hurt himself further as he raged against his bindings.

Rather quickly, I found myself moving towards the only sensible solution. Truly there was but one decision any real man would make "I could just leave the judgement call up to your sibling..."

Pausing before I turned away from the suddenly silent beast I pulled out Blasphemy "Well I suppose I can give you a bit of relief, even if you might die anyway."

I lay the sword atop the dragon's snout and his entire form is overtaken by grey flame, the bond to Miraak within him fighting and raging against me but failing utterly to repulse my divinely enhanced blade.

By the time I stepped away, his pupils had narrowed into pinpricks and he turned utterly still in his bindings.

Offering the poor fucker an only slightly mocking bow I say "I leave you to consider things as thoroughly as you see fit. You will not be leaving those bindings for hours at the least anyway."

He says nothing as I walk away, but the air around him turns distinctly... melancholic.

"Storn" I nod at the Elder Shaman before turning to his heir "Frea."

"Flame-tongue." The old man, clad in artistically carved steel, inclines his head, a gesture slowly followed by his rattled daughter.

"You have my thanks for coming to my people's aid." I offer genuinely, even as my eyes turn slightly colder "But I know for a fact such risks are not taken for free. So what is it that the Skaal desire for this service?"

Storn stills, looking almost confused "I ask for nothing" He responds after a short while "I did not charge into battle with reward on my mind, only the safety of those worthy of it."

And he meant every single word of it.

"And yet?" I press, one can believe in one thing while still desiring another.

"And yet" He frowns and pauses "The Skaal... we are a simple people."

"Too simple for what I have planned?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"Yes" He nods "I will not be foolish and demand that you leave our island as you found it but I ask that the Skaal be left to their peace."

If he weren't asking me to let his people remain treehuggers I'd almost respect his mindset... Still, I remained a magnanimous master and so I gave my answer "I will not promise that change will never come, but I will not force your people into it either."

I've already seen how irritated their youths tended to be with their insularism, all it would take is two or three generations for them to abandon their ways after they saw the merits of mine anyway.

The Shaman sighs "I guess that is the best I am getting, isn't it?"

"It is" I say in a 'what can you do?' manner "You are old enough to understand things will not always go as you want them to."

"Indeed" He agrees bitterly.

"Happy we could come to an understanding" I give him a wooden smile "Now could you direct me to the Beast Stone? I've been trying to scry the place but it remains hidden and I'd like for Miraak's influence to be gone sooner rather than later."

He nods "Aye, I trust you have a map?"

Moments later he points the place out and I flip it forward to Minthara through the might of the Orb™.

Might as well give her something to do while I deal with this mess...

The moment I finish the message, Frea finally deigns to speak up, likely to preempt any further argument between myself and her father "Shouldn't we be aiding the wounded?"

"No need to rush" I wave dismissively "The ones in the ice are frozen magically so their wounds will not deteriorate and the rest are already dead." Except for Skirnir who had Marco hovering over him with a healing spell in both hands...

Ah.

Without a word I round onto the Stormcloak's position, just in time to hear Marco muttering "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Scorch materializes atop my shoulder and Surge within my hand as the spell begins forming before me, its parameters optimized and its abilities to reintegrate a soul within a body far less rough than during my first attempt.

The entire shoreline is blinded by gold.

(General POV)

Skirnir Stormcloak felt rather... lost as he stared into the colorful heavens of Sovengarde, his heart still beating with the excitement of battle even as the realization that he had fallen had yet to settle within him...

It was all too soon, he stubbornly repeated in his mind.

Before he could spiral further a familiar voice broke him out of it "Boy."

He blinked rapidly before his eyes settled on a man seated upon a rock, armor pristine and axe leaning next to him.

"Father?" Skirnir whispered.

"Skirnir." Ulfric Stormcloak spoke "You are here sooner than I expected."

The younger man flinches minutely "Aye."

"Come" Ulfric pats the rock next to him "Sit with me."

Ever so hesitantly, he does as he is told, his eyes constantly switching between his feet and his father. As he finally sat he tries to speak "I-"

"Save it" Ulfric raises his hand "If you want to apologize then do not." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"But-"

"Boy, I said save it" Ulfric repeats more forcefully and looks away "All that you have done, all your decisions..."

Skirnir felt an immense weight in his gut in anticipation.

"... you were right" Ulfric finishes to his son's great astonishment.

He gapes for a good ten seconds before settling into a dumb "...what?"

"You made the right choice boy" Ulfric still refuses to look at him "And all your deeds after that..."

"But I betrayed you!" Skirnir stands, throwing his hands up "Your dream, your goals, I destroyed all of it!"

"Ha!" Ulfric barks a laugh and finally turns to face him "You give yourself too much credit boy."

Realizing what he meant, Skirnir his embarrassment creeping up "Right." He coughed into his hand.

Huffing in amusement his father eyes the spot next to him and waits until Skirnir sits again.

They are silent for a while, the elder enjoying the silence while the younger took only a few minutes to break "What did you mean by it?"

"Hm?" Ulfric hums.

"That my choices were right?" Skirnir elaborates "Did you change your mind after battling Alduin?"

Ulfric takes his time answering "No, I did not" Seeing his son's growing confusion he went on "Had I been placed back in time with all the information I had then, I would still have made the same choices. That the gods saw to turn my life into a fool's play is something only hindsight could show me."

Skirnir cannot help but huff "Still as stubborn as ever."

On sheer reflex, his father directs him with a side-eyed glower, one that would have usually made him wince if he were not a disembodied soul at the moment. But instead of scolding him, Ulfric instructs "Tell me of your deeds, I have been watching but I could not see all."

And so Skirnir did, taking his time to explain all that he had done in exhaustive detail, anything from tavern brawls to heated skirmishes and monster hunts.

By the time he was done, his father had adopted a distant look, and without prompting began telling him of his own experiences, utterly surprising him as he, for the first time ever spoke of his imprisonment during the great war, and the voice that followed him everafter.

Now far more understanding of why Ulfric had deigned to call his life a play, Skirnir was lost for words. All he could do was stare at the older man with pity and terror, unable to fully accept what had been done to him.

Before they could truly resolve all that was said however, the spot from which Skirnir first emerged began twisting and turning until a large golden passage was opened, one that immediately began tugging at the young man.

"You have a choice before you" Ulfric spoke with a voice that was both his own and not "You could step through that gate, and face the world once more.. Or you could remain here, with me."

For a long while, Skirnir was stuck in place, unable to say anything or really do anything but think and consider... And yet in the end both father and son knew there would only ever be one choice that he could make.

He stepped towards the portal, pausing as he heard his father speak up "You have earned your place in Sovengarde now, you will need to do it once more, should you wish to return."

Skirnir didn't turn around "I have been called" He said half to himself and half to his father "And I must answer, always."

He went to step through but his father once more made him pause "I will wait for you then. Know that I am proud of you... son."

Skirnir Stormcloak did not hesitate again, and was swiftly enveloped in a sea of golden flame. Time did not seem to pass in that place, feeling like an eternity and a moment both, and in a blink he was out.

Once more feeling breath in his lungs, Skirnir blinked his eyes open just in time to see a familiar Dunmer tiredly leaning on his staff "You certainly took your bloody time you fatass." The elf glared at him.

"Fuck off." Skirnir fired back instantly.

A loud snort was his answer.

-----

(Reyvin's POV)

Hours later the site of the battle was cleaned up and a large camp was raised in its place, Skirnir already up and about commanding the people alongside the Captain of the moored Jagged Crown, the latter looking quite dour as he went about his work.

Cleaning the blood off the imposing ship's deck would take days.

The vessel may have taken an unrelenting force from a dragon to the face and remained (mostly) intact, but the crew atop it certainly wasn't nearly as resilient.

I had to convince the man not to butcher the dragon before Minthara came to make the decision, needing to pull out the whole 'he was mind controlled' bit to make it actually stick, even if the sailors grumbled mightily.

Thankfully for my sanity, Marco and the two Skaal fully believed I just healed Skirnir with some master level restoration instead of actually reviving him, and the Stormcloak himself didn't look all that eager to talk about it on his own.

Still, I'd have to take him aside sometime soon and explain to him the gravity of the situation while ensuring he reported any unforeseen issues that might crop up.

Saddled with waiting as I was, I opened up my Orb™, and began reading through the bookseekers' progress report I got a few minutes back.

[PaperPusher: We have it!]

[Big D: Anything too annoying?]

[PaperPusher: Two barrows and a buried tomb.]

[Baldy Grouch: Yes, the same buried tomb you just so happened to send Karvanni to excavate... Almost as if you already knew where the books would be. Also which infantile fool changed my signature?]

[Skeletor Jr.: Just accept it, the sooner you do the less hair you will lose... Oh wait.]

[PaperPusher: Ha!]

[Baldy Grouch: Children! I am surrounded by children!]

[Big D: No need to remind us you've been surpassed by practical infants Neloth, we are aware.]

[Baldy Grouch: Do you want the fucking locations or not Dagoth?!]

[Big D: You need to relax a bit old man, but sure if you insist I would appreciate your tribute.]

[Baldy Grouch: Fcking!- No, I will not play the jester for you any longer, the locations are Kolbjorn Barrow next to Raven Rock, White Ridge Barrow, and Bengkongerike to the north.]

He sends the coordinates for the latter two and promptly disconnects.

[Big D: What a charming fellow.]

[PaperPusher: He already loves us, I can see it.]

[Skeletor Jr.: How I couldn't see the two of you were related for months is a mystery...]

The conversation trails off there, leaving me to consider my next moves as the survivors of the battle began celebrating their lives and those of the dead. Even the Thirskers were invited to join, having actually shown some bravery during the fight.

Having heard their story I couldn't help but pity them, their fellow Nords must have looked at them as if they were worth less than the dirt they stood on but thankfully they didn't have the time to get themselves lynched for their failings...

Not that the Nords would actually kill them, but the social pressure would have inevitably caused some stupidity to happen.

Shaking my head I focused on the map held within my Orb™ and promptly decided to leave the two northern tombs for others to deal with while I descended into Kolbjorn.

After all, getting the chance to yoink some of the knowledge of Ahzidaal, a contemporary of Ysgramor whose enchantments allowed the Nords to genocide the shit out of the Falmer in the first place was not something I'd like to miss.

Shame he went mad in the end and decided to serve the dragons and then Miraak like a complete idiot but I guess that was what happened after elves murdered your family and you weren't as mentally firm as Ysgramor...

That I actually began respecting the ancient fart after Sovengarde still baffled my brain.

All that would be left after that would be getting a hold of Vahlok and slapping Karstaag back into a more malleable state... Truly my ability to plan the demise of legends was immense.

Snorting at my own arrogance, I teleported atop a nearby cliff, summoned a comfy chair and opened the accursed book on high tier space/void bullshittery that I wasn't even halfway through translating.

This was going to be a very long evening.

-------

The morn is alight with the song of miners!

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