Skyrim: Reign

Chapter 1: Rorikstead

The wind battered the low lying south-west reaches of Skyrim. The monuments of the old guards dotted the landscape, and the sun shone down on barren fields, absent of livestock or people. The village of Rorikstead, a tiny settlement that backed on to the vast mountains of Skyrim's southern border with Cyrodiil, sat in an empty landscape. A village of primarily farming folk, the area had been left almost untouched by the Great War with the ever-looming Dominion, just as it now did by the Civil War between the Norsemen of Skyrim and the so called tyranny of the Empire. The great Legion, now in a state of chaos and destruction following the White-Gold Concordat, desperately struggled to establish it's once strong hold over the people of the North, but the rebellion of the Stormcloaks was making this struggle harder and harder with each passing season. 

In this untouched region of the land, a Nord farmer of 19 years fought against the elements on his father's farm. The struggle of war seemed so distant to Reign as he lived his life growing crops and herding his cows. In recent years, the men of the village had gone off to fight in the war, and only a handful remained, including he and his father. Reign had never been a true fighter, but his knowledge of hunting and the landscape made him a valued member of the little village of Rorikstead. Life was hard on the lowlands, with strong gales battling the landscape, but Reign enjoyed it.

As that day neared it's end, Reign finished up his work and returned to the little house that he and his family occupied. It wasn't much; no more than wood and a thatched roof to keep out the cold, but it was theirs and they loved it. Reign pushed open the door and, as they always did, his little brother and sister came running up to him. 

"REIGN'S HOME, EVERYONE!" screamed Brayne as he came barrelling towards Reign's legs, aiming for taking him out. Reign lifted up his leg as the smiled crept across his face and he laughed, leaving Brayne running straight for the door. For a boy of 7, it took him far too long to learn, and as he stood up from the impact rubbing his head he himself started laughing; Reign did the same thing every single night, and they all loved him for it. He made for the table and sat himself on the chair closest to the door

"Here son, have some of this, your father caught it in one of his infernal trapping machines." his mother said softly, handing Reign a small bowl of rabbit soup and shaking her head. The family very rarely had meat, so when they did it was great, but his mother always denounced the trapping of the helpless animals. Like a true Nord, she favoured the fairness and struggle of hunting a beast.

"Thanks Ma. Where is the old fool anyway?" Reign scanned the room and chuckled, just as his siblings did, "Out playing with his machines?" 

She shook her head, and replied "I don't know where he is son, I thought he was with you." Reign noticed she didn't look concerned; his father was always off wandering, thinking and inventing new things which were supposed to make their life better, but almost always backfired and injured someone. Reign was convinced that had they lived in the city, his father would definitely have been arrested for accidentally killing someone. No one said anything for a while, and the kids played by the fire-pit that lit the house, and Reign ate in silence. Once he had finished, and a warm feeling had filled his now full stomach, he stood up and said "I'll go see if I can find him, he can't have gotten very far. Besides, it'll be dark soon and he'll get lost, the old coot!" The kids both laughed, and his mother smiled. He winked at the children, and headed out the door into the cold embrace of the darkness.