TIRED, RETIRED - Crying Wolf

Ganondorf, in Solitude

“Wait, who is this?” Legate Rikke asked, the Nord woman looking between Ganondorf and Hadvar.

Hadvar cleared his throat. “This is--”

“--the biggest nutcase I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” Tullius said gruffly. “He appeared out of nowhere in the middle of our ambush and killed six men before someone got a lucky shot in.”

“Wait, this is him?”

Hadvar cringed, glancing at Ganondorf, who didn’t look even slightly ashamed. “I hadn’t known that.”

The Gerudo shrugged. “In my defense, I had no idea what was happening at the time. All I knew was that I was in the middle of a battle.” He tilted his head, remembering. “I think four of those men were in blue, though.”

“Which is the only reason I’m not having you arrested right now,” General Tullius said. “Hadvar, why is this maniac here?”

“He, uh,” the soldier said. “He wants to enlist.”

Tullius stared at them. “That’s what I thought he said, but I was hoping I had misheard.”

Ganondorf grinned widely. “Is something wrong? Is it not every citizen’s right to serve?”

“Are you a citizen?” Tullius asked sharply. “I can tell you’re not a Redguard. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

“And you likely never will again.” Ganondorf didn’t even bother to deny the accusation.

“General,” Hadvar said. “I know he’s unconventional--trust me, I’ve been traveling with him for over a week, I know--but he’s the greatest warrior I’ve ever seen! Anyone who can chase a dragon off by wrestling it--”

“He what?” Rikke gasped. “Sir--”

The general held up a hand to silence her. “I’d almost managed to forget that…” he muttered. He looked up at Ganondorf. And he was clearly annoyed at how far up that was. “I’ll acknowledge that you’re powerful. I saw that for myself. But a soldier needs more than just strength. What assurance do I have that you’ll follow orders? Can I trust you to listen to your commanders and not abuse your position as a soldier?”

Ganondorf hummed for a moment, then said, “Probably not.”

Hadvar’s expression fell as Tullius’s turned stormy. “What are you doing?” the soldier hissed.

“General, a word?” Rikke asked. “You too Hadvar.”

The three of them huddled into a conversation on the other side of the room. Ganondorf considered eavesdropping, but then decided he didn’t really care. Instead he leaned back out of the room to inspect the odd black table he’d seen on the way in. It was clearly magical in some way, judging by the glowing runes etched into the surface. He wondered what it was for.

He took the dragon fang from his pocket, pondering. The tooth was native to this place, so perhaps he should use runes from this world as well? Hm… no, that wasn’t necessary. Ganondorf leaned against the doorframe and pulled out a carving knife. He’d decided on the Twilight runes, using the classic Twinrova glyphs. His original teachers’ preferred runes had been largely forgotten, but they were what he had learned and he’d never found ones that worked better for him.

He worked for a few minutes, paying little mind to the muttering of the others, until Rikke looked up and approached him.

“Mr… Ganondorf,” she began. “If we refuse to let you enlist, what will you do?”

The Gerudo considered that. “Probably go around the country looking for a good fight. Might kill some dragons, fight small armies. I heard about a creature called a Spriggan back in Dragon Bridge, they sound like they could be fun. I’ve always hated trees.” He shrugged. “That could probably keep me entertained for a few years. After that, who knows? Might go into politics again.”

Tullius and Hadvar both shuddered at the idea. “Well,” the General said, “If you’re going to be doing all that anyway, we could at least point you at the problem areas.”

“Indeed. With Hadvar vouching for you, the General and I are willing to give you a chance,” Rikke said. “But first, we want you to prove your intentions.”

“Reasonable,” Ganondorf said. “What would you have me do? Please say something exciting.”

“Not likely,” Tullius said. “For the past three days a man from Dragon Bridge has been begging Elisif to send someone to investigate Wolfskull Cave. Falk Firebeard isn’t willing to spare any of the city guards, so now he’s asking us to send someone.”

“So you want me to do it instead to shut him up,” Ganondorf guessed.

“Crudely put, but yes. Essentially.”

Ganondorf frowned, but nodded anyway. “Fine then. Where is it?”

“Down the hill after leaving Solitude, it’s at the end of the second road on the right,” Hadvar said. “I would go with you, except--”

“You need to properly report in,” Tullius snapped. To Ganondorf, he said, “I’d offer you some armor, but I doubt we have any in your size. If you want some food from the kitchens, fine, but don’t take too long. The sooner you’re on the road, the better.”

Ganondorf looked Tullius in the eyes for a long moment, frowning. It lasted long enough that Rikke and Hadvar began to get nervous, the former putting a hand on her sword, but finally the huge man smirked and nodded once. “Right away, sir.”

He was actually impressed by how General Tullius seemed utterly unphased. “Good. You can get more information from Falk, if you think you need it.” Then he turned his back to him and faced the map again. “Rikke, as I was saying, with the loss of Helgen I’m sure Ulfric will try to move on Falkreath soon. We need to either reinforce the city or reclaim Helgen as soon as possible…” He looked up and saw Ganondorf. “You’re still here? Get a move on!”

The Gerudo shook his head with a chuckle and turned to leave.

He’d always been at the head of armies, and never ever under anyone else. Some had tried, and he had disabused of that notion swiftly. General Tullius, however, might actually be someone worth listening to.

Obeying? Unlikely. But he would listen.

-------------------------------------

Falk Firebeard was pacing in the atrium of the Blue Palace, looking over tax reports, when he heard the doors open. “Yes? Do you have business with the court? I’m afraid Jarl Elisif is taking lunch right now, but I can hear your petition if you prefeeeeerrrrr…” He looked up, trailing off as he took in the man looming over him.

Ganondorf’s lip twitched. “Afternoon. I’m here to investigate your wolf cave.”

Falk’s jaw worked without his input for a moment before experience kicked in and made him answer. “Wolfskull?” The other man wore simple leather armor with a red shirt underneath, and the steward relaxed fractionally. “Ah, are you the Legion soldier we requested?”

“I was sent by the General, yes,” Ganondorf said. “Anything you think I should know?”

“Well,” Falk said, a little awkwardly. “Truth be told, I don’t actually think it’s anything to be concerned over. Actually, let me say again. It’s not a major priority, what with the war going on. Varnius is a nervous sort, prone to jumping at shadows. There have been disappearances along the road between here and Dragon Bridge, but it’s most likely bandits or wild animals.”

“I have noticed that the animals in this country are oddly hostile,” Ganondorf questioned.

“Skyrim is a bloodthirsty place,” the steward said, sounding oddly proud. “As for Wolfskull Cave, I personally think it’s just the old stories spooking people. But if you want to check on it and maybe clear it out, I can make sure you’re paid for the effort.”

Ganondorf tilted his head. “Old stories?”

Falk flapped a hand dismissively. “Oh, five hundred years or so ago, Potema the Wolf Queen used it for necromantic rituals. Folks around here think it’s haunted, but I’m sure it’s just legends now.”

Falk was taken aback by the smile that spread across the other man’s face. “Ah, that kind of old story. I see. Well, don’t worry, Steward Firebeard, I’ll give it a look, and you can tell your worrier that everything is fine now.”

“That’s a relief,” Falk said sincerely. “Varnius is a good man, but dealing with him every day is getting tiring.”

“I’m sure.” Ganondorf turned and left the Palace. “Great name, by the way.”

Falk smirked, rubbing his chin. “My thanks. Even if you deserve it just as much as I do.”

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Link, still in Whiterun

Link was still in Whiterun.

He was still in Whiterun. He was getting antsy about it. He wanted to explore the wide open new country he’d found himself in, but starting up a wandering trade post like Beedle’s took time.

He wanted to stock up on wares, and had been spending his time making daggers and swords and shields at Warmaiden’s. He’d impressed Adrianne with how fast he could make them, so he’d worked out a deal: if he gave two of every three weapons he made to the shop, he could keep the third and he wouldn’t have to pay for anything.

“I might actually be able to fulfill Idolaf’s order with your help,” she’d said. “Now I just need to decide if I want to.”

He also wanted to keep an eye on the first safflina crop’s progress. By Hylian standards the plants only barely qualified as magical; if they grew just fine, then he could move on to a more magic-intensive plant. If they couldn’t, then he’d know he needed to find more complex solutions. It looked promising so far, as Chillfurrow’s new field already had a number of green shoots poking up.

Link frowned as a thought occurred to him. He pulled the gemstone out of his pocket and shook it. “How do I turn this thing on? She always talked to me, not the other way… oh!”

The stone flashed, and Zelda’s voice spoke from it, sounding like it was coming from far away. Which it was, he supposed. “Yyyyes, Link? Did you need something?”

“Have you reached the magic school yet?”

“No. I did see a cave with brass pipes around it. It seems to be a boiler room, but for what purpose I’m not sure, since it’s just pouring hot water into a lake. What did you need?”

“When you get there, can you ask if they have any magic that would be useful in farming?” Link requested. Zelda assured him that she would, and he stowed the rock away again.

“Who and what was that?” the Khajiit in front of him asked, curiously.

The third thing Link had been doing was talking with the local merchants some more, and the Khajiit caravans in particular. There were already quite successful traveling shops around, and Link didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. At least, not until he was sure he could get away with it.

Ri’saad was a patient and grandfatherly individual, but Link could also see the way his eyes were constantly alert and searching for something. At the moment, he was fixated on the pocket he’d placed the stone in.

“It’s… I think it’s called the Gossip Charm?” Link explained. “I could be misremembering. It lets me and my friend Zelda talk no matter how far apart we are.”

Ri’saad’s tail whipped back and forth. “Fascinating. Would be a very useful tool. Do you have more?”

Link blinked. “You want one?”

“Three of those, shared between myself and the other two caravans, would be very helpful,” Ri’saad mused. “Akhari goes by Riften, and Ma’dran is in most danger from the war as he goes from Solitude to Windhelm. It would ease Ri’saad’s worries to be able to talk to them whenever.” The old cat’s eyes gleamed. “And, as you said, these ‘gossip charms’ would serve a much more useful purpose. Some advice, from an old trader to a young one.” Ri’saad leaned forward. “The most valuable thing a traveler can sell is information, especially in times such as these.”

Link nodded seriously. Then he dropped a red rupee into the Khajiit’s paws. “Do you know anyone in Skyrim who can teach me how to work ebony?”

The rupee vanished into Ri’saad’s sleeves between blinks. He rubbed his snout in thought. “Hm… Ebony… it is a rare metal. Heavily regulated.” He tilted his head. “It is not something you can get easily. Not legally. Why not stick to something easier to obtain?”

Link held out his hand. Ri’saad looked confused, so he smirked and said, “Information’s not free.”

The old cat laughed. “Fine, keep your secrets. Hm…” Ri’saad hummed. “Khajiit has heard that Eorlund Gray-Mane is the greatest smith in Skyrim. He lives right here in Whiterun.”

Link grimaced. “I asked him already, since I placed an order for something with him. He said he wasn’t interested in an apprentice who wouldn’t commit to the Companions.”

“Alas.” Ri’saad stood from his seated position and stretched. “Ahkari has told me that the blacksmith in Riften claims to be the equal of Eorland. The only other people Ri’saad can think of are the orcs of Narzulbur, who have a mine of ebony. But orcs guard their secrets closely.” He frowned in thought. “You may find someone on Solstheim who knows. The mine has long gone dry, but Dunmer still live there who remember when it was not. This is all Ri’saad can tell you.”

Link frowned, but ultimately shrugged. “I guess I’m going to Riften next, then.”

“Do not think Ri’saad did not notice you ignoring the gossip stone question.”

“I don’t know if we can make more, but I’ll ask Zelda about it. We’ll add it to the list.” Link wagged a finger. “They won’t be free, though.”

“This one expects not.”

Link sighed. “It’s too bad you guys didn’t get here earlier. I feel like Jo’kir would have liked to talk to another Khajiit.”

Ri’saad’s ears flicked in surprise. “A Khajiit not with the caravans? I am surprised.” He gestured towards the rest of his camp. “Skyrim is a cold place, most unlike Elsweyr. To travel alone would be an unhappy experience.”

“I don’t know, I think he was doing well enough,” Link defended. “A little high-strung, but after killing a dragon I think he has the right to be.”

The old cat stumbled. “He killed a--A Khajiit is the one the guards are calling Dragonborn?”

“Yes?” Link confirmed, brow furrowed. “Did they not mention that part? Why wouldn’t they tell a Khajiit one of their own was a hero?”

Ri’saad looked to the side. “They did not exactly know Khayla was listening to them. How interesting… I will have to keep an eye out for him. Thank you for telling this one.”

“You’re welcome.” Link checked the sun. “Eorlund said he’d be done by now, so I think I’ll take off now. Thanks for your time.”

“Likewise. Please visit again, young trader.”

----------------------------------

The sound of clashing metal rang out over the hall of Jorrvaskr as warriors sparred behind it. Link gave them only a passing glance as he climbed the steps nearby.

“I have to say, whelp, this was one of the odder tasks I’ve ever been given,” Eorlund said as Link approached the Skyforge.

Link had decided on a wolf motif after all, and Eorlund had been happy enough to take his money. He made everything for the Companions, who also had a penchant for wolf-themed armor and weapons. He’d shown Link a variety of different showpieces he had, and the one that stuck out to Link the most had been what Eorlund called the Nordic Carved Armor style. The helmet resembled a bear’s head more than anything, but Eorlund said that elongating it into a wolf’s snout would be no issue.

Link’s wasn’t just a helmet, though. The back half of the helm had been cut away to instead give way to one of his favorite pointed hats. He’d missed it.

The end result was completely unlike anything else in Skyrim, Eorlund said. It was also kind of tacky, a little ridiculous-looking, and would undoubtedly make him look like a clown.

Link tried it on immediately. Eorlund looked torn between wanting to laugh at how it looked or scowl at the indignity of it.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a regular helmet, lad?” the smith said, slightly pleading. “It wouldn’t take long.”

The tip of the cloth reached down between his shoulder blades and blew in the breeze like a windsock. “It’s perfect.”

“...If you say so.” Eorlund looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “If anyone asks where you got it, tell them you got it from someone else.”

Link shrugged, not bothered. “I have this idea for a big travel pack with gray fur down the back of it to match the helmet, too.”

Eorlund pictured that for a moment and winced. “You might want to reconsider, lad. Folks might mistake for a werewolf from a distance, and you might find yourself suddenly overstocked on arrows. So to speak.”

Link frowned. “I don’t think I know what a werewolf is. Is it something like a Wolfos?”

“You are a strange one, aren’t you?” Eorlund didn’t wait for an answer before shaking his head and returning to the forge. “I suppose you’re free to make your own mistakes. Just be careful out there. That ‘helmet’ won’t be of much use if someone sneaks up from behind.”

A particularly loud clang sang up from below, accompanied by an alarmed shout. The two of them turned towards the sound and saw a steel axe spinning high into the air.

“Aye, and speaking of mistakes,” Eorlund grumbled, watching it tumble end over end. “I’ll bet you anything that was Farkas showing off his strength again.”

“Impressive height,” Link contributed.

The axe reached the peak of its arc, hanging in the air for what felt like a second too long, then started its descent.

Eorlund’s eyes widened as he realized it was coming directly towards them. “Hell--look out!”

He ran towards the edge of the Skyforge’s platform, intending to jump down to safer ground, before realizing the lad hadn’t moved. Eorlund turned to shout at him again, and saw when Link grabbed a wolf shield the smith had lying around and used it to bash the axe out of the air before it could cut him down. It clattered to the ground, and Link tested the weight of the shield on his arm.

“Not bad. Not overly fond of round shields, but this one’s pretty good.” Link strapped it first onto one arm, then the other. “Ambidextrous, too.”

“Eorlund!”

The blacksmith tore his eyes from the boy and looked towards the stairs, where Farkas and Athis were running up. “Are you alright, master smith?” the dark elf asked worriedly.

Eorlund glanced at Link again, and said. “Of course I’m alright. What happened?”

Athis scowled and elbowed Farkas, who didn’t seem to notice. “This lunk keeps pestering me about my weapon choices. He seems to think shortswords aren’t worth anything…”

“Tiny blades don’t hurt enough. A sword needs weight,” Farkas supplied.

“I prefer longswords myself,” Link said absently, still fiddling with the shield.

Farkas looked him up and down, not seeming to have noticed him until he spoke. “...Seems like every sword would be a longsword to you, little guy.”

“Ha. It is to laugh.”

“Anyway,” Athis hissed, “I finally decided to do a spar with a war axe just to shut him up, and this oaf catches the hook of my weapon with a swing of his greatsword and yanks it out of my hand and into the sky!”

“I told you to use the wrist strap. Keeps you from getting disarmed.”

“No, I’d have still been disarmed. You would have ripped it out at the shoulder!”

“How much is this shield?” Link asked, cutting the argument off before it could get going. “I like it.”

Eorlund shook his head, deciding to ignore the two idiots. “Sorry lad. I’m afraid the wolf pattern is for Companions only.” His lips quirked. “Of course, if you were to join up it’d be all yours. Those were good reflexes just then. And I could give you those lessons you wanted.”

“Hm.” Link considered, then set the shield back where he found it. “No, but thanks for offering. I’d rather just travel. See the sights, and all.”

“You’d get that in the Companions,” Farkas said, latching onto the idea. He didn’t know who this kid was, but if Eorlund thought he was good that was good enough for him, and the Companions always had room for more. “And more. A roof and a meal always waiting for you at Jorrvaskr, and a brother or sister always ready to fight by your side.”

Link looked more contemplative at that. “...Hm.”

“Excuse me, weren’t we just talking about Farkas nearly taking someone’s head off?” Athis cut in. “I feel like we’re ignoring that.”

“We are ignoring that,” Eorlund confirmed. “Keep up, lad.”

The dark elf sputtered. “But he--you--”

“Thank you again,” Link said, making his way to the stairs. “Maybe I’ll join later, but I’ve already made a few deals with Nazeem and Adrianne. I need to see those through before I consider changing my career path.”

“That’s a shame,” Farkas said.

“Don’t be a stranger, lad!” Eorlund called.

The three of them watched Link until he walked out from Jorrvaskr’s gate, then Farkas leaned over and asked in what he probably thought was a whisper, “Do you think he knew he was wearing a sock on his head?”

---------------------------------------

Ganondorf, in Haafingar

The Gerudo breathed deeply, and sighed a sigh filled with nostalgia. Almost the moment he turned off the main road, he could feel something dark. It was too soon to tell what the source was, but it definitely felt like undeath.

Even if there hadn’t been the pervasive scent of evil to follow, Ganondorf would still have known Wolfskull Cave by the two skeletons standing guard outside. It was, ah ha, a dead giveaway.

Chuckling at his own joke, he experimentally flexed his own aura. It wasn’t as dark as it had once been, but the accursed hatred had left its marks on his soul. What brave or foolish animals still gathered near the cave fled as he approached.

The skeletons saw him and didn’t immediately react. Their empty skulls glared at him without truly seeing, whatever magic allowed them to perceive things not being able to differentiate between him and the surrounding miasma of malice.

Assuming the cave was full of monsters like these, he could keep his aura up and just walk right through, take out whatever inevitable force of evil lurked inside, and walk right back out.

But that wouldn’t be any fun.

Ganon dropped the aura, and the skeletons jerked as to their eye sockets, he appeared out of nowhere. They ran at him, dull and rusty swords raised, and he allowed them to approach.

Stalfos were among his most formidable minions in the past, and though these two had been left unarmored they would surely prove a decent warmup. He even spread his arms wide, daring them to take first blood.

Imagine his disappointment, then, when they hit him with all the force of an ill, wounded kitten. Their swords bounced off his skin, the only sign of the attack occurring at all being the gash it left in his sleeve.

Ganondorf stood there, arms out, as the pair of undead landed blow after blow, and accomplished nothing but a light tickle.

His arms dropped and he stared in disbelief. He grabbed one of them mid-swing, and its arm crumbled in his grip.

“Tch.”

Hopefully there was something more fun inside.