Mori Pro Imperio: The Story of Pliton Calleius

I soon fell into a routine while in Riverwood. Wake up before dawn, have breakfast at the Sleeping Giant, head to the mill, work until dusk, have dinner and sleep. During my breaks, I got to know everyone in Riverwood. I became fast friends with Lucan and Camilla Valerius, mostly because I was Imperial and I told them what was going on in Cyrodiil.

I finished the monthly quota for lumber the day before it was to be shipped. Gerdur thanked me dearly for that, and handed me my pay, 150 septims.

By then, Alvor had also finished my armor and weapons. I tried the armor on, and it fit me perfectly. I placed the crossbow on my back; I would have to buy bolts in Whiterun.

I grabbed my horse, and mounted it. I said goodbye to the residents of Riverwood, and I went down the road to Whiterun.

I left Riverwood at around noon, and reached Whiterun by late afternoon. It was in pretty bad shape, with some buildings collapsed and the walls breached in some places. I galloped up to the gate, and was stopped by three guards.

“Who goes there?” One guard asked.

“Pliton Calleius,” I replied, “I have business with the Dragonborn, but I need supplies.”

“Alright then,” the guard replied, “But I’ll be watching you, Imperial. Mind that.”

I nodded, and trotted through the gates. I hitched it inside the city, and made my way over to Warmaiden’s, the local arms and armor shop.

I stepped inside, and was greeted by a man wearing Iron Armor without the helmet standing behind the counter.

“Welcome to Warmaiden’s,” he said, “My name’s Ulfberth War-Bear. We got plenty of weapons and armor.”

“Good,” I said, “Do you have crossbow bolts?”

“We just got a new shipment,” he said, bending down behind the counter. “We usually don’t get travelers here, especially after the Legion wrecked the place and split.”

I cringed at that remark. I was lucky Ulfberth was bending down; he didn’t see my reaction.

“Were you ever in the Legion?” He asked, “You seem the type.”

“I’m ex-Legion, yes.” I said, reaching for three bundles of twenty-four Steel Bolts. “I left after the Battle of Solitude. I’d seen enough bloodshed there.”

“Course you did.” Ulfberth said, “What brings an Imperial to Skyrim? After Ulfric took over, we haven’t seen many Imperials, except of course my wife, Adrianne.”

“I’m heading up to Windhelm,” I said, “To help out in retaking the city. My political views shouldn’t matter in a time like this.”

“Oh I see,” Ulfberth nodded. “Looking for some glory, are we?”

I didn’t answer the question. I thanked him, paid him, and left. It was getting pretty late; too late to travel far if I left now. I wandered around Whiterun, until a Nord in Fine Clothes walked up and asked me if I needed help finding something.

“And you are?” I asked impatiently. I don’t take kindly to strangers offering help; too many bad experiences.

“Olfrid,” he shook my hand violently, “Patron of the great clan Battle-Born. Now, do you need help finding something, stranger?”

“Just a place to rest my head,” I replied. “I also need a means of transportation to Windhelm.”

“Oh,” he said disdainfully, as if he hated Windhelm for some reason.

“Yes,” he continued, “There’s the Bannered Mare, in the Market. And, as for transportation, Bjorlam will gladly take you to Windhelm. But what business does an Imperial like you have in Windhelm? Don’t you know Daedra swarm the city?”

“Exactly,” I said, “I’m heading there to help liberate the city.”

“Really?” Olfrid replied, “Well tell Ulfric you can’t kiss the Battle-Born’s ass enough to make us cozy up to him!”

“I take it you don’t see eye to eye with Ulfric then.” I said, nervous of the response.

“Oh no,” Olfrid said, “Ulfric and I just love having dinner with each other. Oh, and we talk about how damn imposing the Legion was! No, I do not like Ulfric! In fact, I had my hopes up that the Legion would stay in Whiterun.”

He cleared his throat, and said hastily, “Well, I’ve somewhere to be now. Hope I helped, even if you want to see Ulfric muck up yet another attempt at the walls.”

He walked away, grumbling various curses at Ulfric. I shrugged, and made my way back to the Market. Whiterun was easy to get lost in, and the twisting and turning streets didn’t help much.

I found myself back in the Market, and opened the doors to the Bannered Mare.

The atmosphere was dreary; no one seemed to be having a nice time. I sat down at the bar, and a Nord woman walked up and greeted me.

“Hello,” she said, “My name’s Ysolda. I’m the owner of the Bannered Mare, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to rent a room.” I said, “And a warm meal.”

“Alright then,” she said, “I’ll get the room ready. Your meal will be out soon.”

I thanked her, and watched her walk away. She was curvy, and I was captivated.

I was knocked out of my reverie by the bard.

“She’s mine, you know.” He said, “Because once Mikael sets his sights on one, she’s his.”

“Alright then,” I said, “It’s been awhile since I’ve been with a woman.”

“Oh I see,” he sat down next to me. “What happened, Stormcloaks steal your lady?”

“No,” I said, “Worse. The Daedra took her prisoner, and I have no idea as to how to get her out of there.”

“Better give it up, my friend.” Mikael said, “I would.”

“You don’t understand,” I replied, “I love her. I can’t just leave her. Especially after a Changeling took her place and I…”

“Tough luck,” Mikael patted my back, and stood up. “How about a song, will that cheer you up?”

I shook my head, and he left my company. I don’t know what possessed him to talk to me, but now I felt the need to go to Windhelm, and rescue Twilight from Oblivion with Stronghand’s help.

My meal came out, and Ysolda said that my room was ready to use, whenever I wanted to. I nodded my head in thanks, and dropped a small coin purse in front of her in payment.

I went into my room, and laid my head down on the bed. I didn’t sleep well that night, but I hadn’t been sleeping much since I escaped Cyrodiil.

When I awoke, I thanked Ysolda again, and left the Bannered Mare. I exited Whiterun, and contacted Bjorlam, who said he could take me just outside Windhelm, in a town called Kynesgrove.

“Climb on back and we’ll be off.” He said, “Not to be a nuisance, but what business do you have in Windhelm?”

“I want to help fight the Daedra.” I said, “It’s been awhile since I bloodied my blade.”

“Oh,” he said, whipping the horses, “So you’re a warrior, eh? I never liked the thought of being one, with all that armor.”

I shifted in my armor, and asked him, “How’s Whiterun been since the Legion besieged it?”

“Oh,” Bjorlam said, “It’s been hell. Without a Jarl, there’s no law. We thought about Olfrid, but he would’ve led an insurrection against Ulfric. That wouldn’t have been good at all.”

He did have a point. Olfrid, from what I saw, seemed to be a vain old man. He is loyal to the Empire, but still very vain. But, then again, I’m not that loyal anymore either.

During the trek to Windhelm, Bjorlam and I exchanged stories of where we came from. Bjorlam came from a small family in the Reach. He said the Forsworn came through the village, and burned it to the ground. He was fifteen at the time.
He ran to his relatives in Hjaalmarch, and worked with his uncle. Once he had enough money, he moved to Whiterun, and bought a carriage.

I told him that I was ex-Legion after the Civil War, but came back to Skyrim because I wanted to fight the Daedra, but not as part of the Legion. I didn’t tell him what really happened. I just couldn’t afford to divulge such important information.

We came up on Kynesgrove a week after we left Whiterun. I paid Bjorlam, and he made his way back to Whiterun.
I walked into the Stormcloak Camp, and immediately insults were thrown at me.

They only stopped when Ulfric Stormcloak himself came out to see what the fuss was about.

“What business do you have here?” He asked, “I have a city to take back.”

“And I have my services to provide.” I replied, “High King Stormcloak, I am here to aid you in your assault on Windhelm.”

“And how does one Imperial help me?” He sneered.

“Because,” I said, “I’ve closed more Oblivion Gates than any of you.”

“So you know how to fight Daedra,” Ulfric said, “But how can I trust you?”

“Because I know him, he’s not the betraying type.” Everyone was silenced as Svogre Stronghand walked out of the tent Ulfric was in.

“I fought with him against both Aldmeri and Daedra.” He said, “He is loyal.”

Ulfric looked to Stronghand, and then to me.

“Alright,” Ulfric relented, “But I better not wake up to find my throat slit.”

He walked away. Svogre walked up to me, and greeted me.

“Why are you here?” He asked, “And where are those Equestrians you befriended?”

“One is trapped in Oblivion,” I said. “And I need to get her out.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re not here with the Legion.” Svogre crossed his hands, and said to me, “What’re you hiding?”

“I needed to get away from Cyrodiil.” I said in a hushed voice, “I was framed for a crime. Skyrim was the most logical choice.”

“I get it now.” He said, grabbing my shoulder. “Let’s head inside. A storm’s brewing out here.”

He guided me into Ulfric’s tent, where he was looking over a map of Windhelm.

“What do you want?” Ulfric asked, “I already told you I’m letting you in.”

“He’s just getting in from the cold.” Stronghand said. “He’s fine. He’s not used to Skyrim’s winters, my king.”

“Considering I was also in Hammerfell this month,” I said, shivering, “It’s pretty cold here compared to the Alik’r Desert.”

“Talos save us.” Ulfric muttered, and then said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t kill me because I said that.”

“Why would I?” I asked, “If I’m his Champion.”

Ulfric gasped.

“What? What is he talking about?”

“I mean,” I said, standing up, “Talos chose me to be his Champion. Just like how Julianos chose the Hero of Kvatch and how Akatosh chose Martin Septim.”

“You better not be lying.” Ulfric said, “Because that’s quite a claim. Now, Svogre, how can we break through the gates?
There are hundreds of Daedra guarding it.”

“There is only one way,” Stronghand looked up. “We need dragons, sir.”

“Dragons, are you sure?” Ulfric asked, “How can we trust them?”

“With Paathurnax and Alduin dead, all dragons see Odahviing as their leader.” He explained, “And if Odahviing convinces them to side with us, we will have a powerful ally. It’s the only way.”

“No,” Ulfric said, “We have to cause as little damage to Windhelm as possible.”

“Have you seen what the Daedra have done to Windhelm?” Svogre smacked his fist on the table, “We can see the fires glow from here during the night! They’re burning it to the ground! It’s already damaged!”

“But I don’t want to damage it anymore!” Ulfric shouted, “You’re getting on my nerves, even if you are Dragonborn and my second-in-command.”

“Just because I don’t bow to you like Galmar did doesn’t mean I should!” Svogre shouted, “You know all too well that I am not one to bow. Galmar might’ve had his opinions, but he followed you blindly! I will not!”

“I thought I made a wise choice making you my second-in-command. Apparently I was wrong.” Ulfric said.

Stronghand fell silent at that remark.

Only after some time had passed, Svogre said, “I am sorry for speaking like that, my King. It is just that it is the only way.”

“No,” Ulfric said, “You are right. Summon Odahviing; you must get him to rally the dragons. Talos preserve us.”

The meeting disbanded. I walked out of the tent, shivering. There was a blizzard in Kynesgrove, and there were snow drifts of over two feet.

I sat down at a fire where some Stormcloak soldiers were huddling around for warmth.

“Damn blizzard,” a woman said, rubbing her arms, “I’m not used to this. Riften’s winters are much milder.”

“Stop your bellyaching,” an officer said, “This is a true Skyrim winter. We will soon be warm with the blood of the Daedra.”

“You are right,” the woman replied. She looked to me, and said, “You, the Imperial, what’s your story?”

“I’m ex-Legion.” I said, “I came here because I felt I would be the most help because I’m wanted by the Legion.”

“I see,” the officer said, “Running from the Legion, eh? It isn’t fun, I’ve been there.”

“When did you desert?” I shivered from the cold.

“After the sack of the Imperial City,” he said, “My entire detachment was killed. I was presumed dead, but I ran and returned to Windhelm. I bided my time until Jarl Ulfric rebelled, and I was one of the first to join him. I was at Helgen, you know?”

“You were?” I said. That meant he was at the execution of Ulfric, where Alduin returned and burned it to the ground. That was also where Stronghand began his quest as Dragonborn.

“Aye,” he said. “When did you desert?”

“I was framed for murdering an officer at Stros M’Kai a few weeks back.” I said, “I was going to be crucified in the Imperial City, but I escaped and ran to Skyrim.”

“’tis a shame.” He said, “My name’s Balfhe, Balfhe Death-Bringer.”

“Mine’s Pliton,” I said, “Pliton Calleius.”

Balfhe and I talked until it became dark. We then went into tents, and tried to fall asleep despite the sub-freezing winds.

Tell me what you think with a review! Next chapter: Pliton, Ulfric and Stronghand begin the fight to liberate Windhelm, but what awaits them inside the gates? Find out in the next chapter!

P.S. You probably enjoy a short author's note, don't you? You really don't care what I have to say. I know I really don't.