Skyrim: Reign

Chapter 4: The Dagger

The days seemed to drove on endlessly in the days that followed. The rain had drowned out the flames of the stable fire, leaving the charred remains of the structure in the thick mud that plastered the ground underfoot. After the soldiers had followed their leader off into the darkness, the other villagers carried Reign's unconscious body, alongside his father, into their home. The twins were taken to stay with Hulda in the inn, and neither were told what had happened, or why they were being taken away from their home and their mother. It was another day before Reign awoke to his father, eyes wide and shaking, murmuring to himself in front of the fireplace. He was just as broken as his dead wife. Reign had nothing to say, his voice completely lost beneath the blanket of grief and confusion that covered his mind. He simply clapped his father on the shoulder and headed outside, to find what was left of his broken family. His father didn't even look up.

As he exited through the thick wooden door, he found Cram outside, sat atop a stool and carving a long pole of Ash wood into a spear. Cram had always been a good man, a blacksmith who used to work in Falkreath creating weapons during the Great War, and for as long as Reign could remember he had been kind to him. Since settling in Rorikstead, he had set up a small forge near the edge of the village and has since worked crafting farming equipment and riding gear, and as such he was vital to the running of the village; he had not left to fight in the civil war. The smithies long blonde hair flowed into his thick beard, where it was braided into thin plaits that ran the length of his pale face. His huge arms fumbled with the pole, and he jumped as the door opened, obviously not expecting anyone to exit.

"He-" Reign tried to speak, but his voice was gone, his mouth so dry that he could not speak. The blacksmith shook his head and held out a wooden mug of cider, softly saying "Don't speak, lad. Just drink, it'll lift your spirits. Well...I can't say it can make it better, but it'll help"

Reign took the mug and lifted it to it's lips. The liquid heated his throats and quenched his thirst, but Cram was totally wrong; it hadn't done anything to lift his spirits. After a brief silence, in which the older man whittled silently, Reign tried to find his voice again. "Thank you, Cram. Where are the twins?"

"I think Hulda took them over to the Frostfruit, boy. But be careful, I don't think anyone has mentioned anything to them about your mother," as Cram spoke the word, Reign felt his chest tighten and his eyes water, "so you'll have to." he continued. Reign nodded, and handed back the now empty mug to the man. Just as Reign was about to leave the front porch of his little house, Cram grabbed his wrist, saying "Do not worry, lad. Those bastards, the Stormcloaks will have their heads. I've a mind to join them in the hunt myself." He spat at the ground. Reign nodded, fighting back tears and lost for words. Cram released the boy's wrist, and returned to his whittling, silently carving the stick into a long extended wooden point. Reign wondered why Cram would need a spear.

Reign made his way across the broken village, past Rorik's Manor across to the Frosfruit Inn. As he walked, he noticed the medley of villagers who fell silent at his presence and the feeling of anger and sadness grew deeper in his gut. How do I tell two young children that they'll never see their mother again? he thought, desperately searching for answers. The rain had destroyed the site of his mother's death, murder, and the signs of the incident had all but washed away. The memory was still raw in Reign's mind, and every step he took felt heavy and unnatural. When he reached the small inn, he braced himself and pushed open the heavy door.

Upon entry, Reign felt warmth like he had never known. In his grief, the cold and wind had not affected him as it usually did, but once the heat of the fire cast across him, he felt the cold gnawing at him, his numb fingers struggling to undo his muddy overcoat. The inn went silent as he stepped towards the counter at the far end, past the fire pit. Everyone eyed him, and the occasional traveller watched inquisitively, not understanding the gravity of the situation. Reign remained constant and focused; he only thought off his little brother and sister, scared and worried. 

He headed over to the bar. his steps felt empty and light, like he wasn't really living the experience. It felt more like a nightmare and for the first time since he had woken up he noticed the pounding in his head. As he neared the counter that was the bar, Hulda appeared from a dark room behind it, and locked eyes with Reign. He saw the pain in her eyes; Hulda had known Reign's mother long before he'd been born, and their friendship was strong. Her cheeks were red and blotchy, her eyes red with heavy bags under them. Reign thought that he himself had lost a mother, and Hulda had lost her best friend, and realized that they may not be so different. 

"You need to sit down." She hissed. She had been like family to Reign, and for her to address him in such a way meant that something was wrong. "I've told them, they know what happened. They're angry and terrified, but they'll be okay. To lose a parent when you're so young...that's easier sometimes." Reign nodded, and couldn't help but feel relief. The twins were okay, and he knew they were being cared for in his absence. He spoke, but the words barely left his lips. "Thank you Hulda." was all he could manage, in a hoarse and rough voice. 

"Listen Reign, your mother was a good woman. A strong woman. And believe me, we won't be letting any more Imperial scum into this inn." She said ferociously, before spitting on the floor. Reign observed that perhaps she was covering her emotions with rage and anger, and he wondered for how long that this could go on. She continued when Reign remained silent. "There's something else though. The dagger that was left behind, the one they ki-" she paused, her voice catching in her throat, "the one they used. It's enchanted, and something doesn't seem right about it." She reached for his hand, and he took it willfully. "Either way, lad, it's yours to do with as you please. Could fetch a fair price when the Cat-folk pass through."

Hulda reached behind the bar with her slender arms, withdrawing a cloth-wrapped package, which she handed to Reign. He took it, and his misery crawled up his throat again, weakening him at the knees and tightening his chest; here in his hands was the weapon used to kill his own mother. The cloth was course and rough, but once Reign had removed the wrappings, he realized the potential of the weapon. Its curved single edged blade glittered, and the solid gold furnishings around the hilt reflected the value if the weapon, as beautiful as it was deadly. Reign also noticed that the blade still omitted the purple glow that it had that night; the enchantment. I could sell this and then we needn't worry for a while. The twins would be well fed, and father could focus on his machines. Just for a little while... he thought, mulling it over. 

Thus far, he had only held the cold steel through the cloth wrappings, but now he removed the wrapping altogether and he lightly brushed his finger along the length of the blade. Or at least, he would have made it the full length, had his mind not flashed a bright white light and his body collapsed from beneath him. The last thing he heard before he fell was the sound of Hulda yelling for help, and the ghostly whisper of a voice he didn't recognize.