Stin

Windhelm

"Y'know, I always ask myself why I never travel to Windhelm but now I realize that it is the insufferable cold that keeps me away," Xaliyah says, giving the Dragonborn a pointed look, "you have two dragons, just light the Thalmor's asses on fire and call it good,"

Ayla lets out a laugh as the group of four walks towards the Palace of Kings. It is currently midday and her group consists of Xaliyah, Brynjolf, and Kharjo, her second-in-command. They have traveled all night and are exhausted, all they want to do is rent rooms in the inn and sleep all day. That, however, is not why they are in Windhelm.

"I'll rent you three rooms as well," Brynjolf says as he breaks away from the group. Brynjolf could sleep all day, but the other three couldn't. Xaliyah, actually, could also go to the inn, but she wanted to go with Ayla and Kharjo.

Xaliyah turns and nods at the redhead, "we'll hurry," she replies knowing it will happen since all three of them are tired. She glances at Ayla, realization dawning on her. Ayla is tired, meaning her patience is thin and she will be quick to a temper. She is suddenly glad she decided to go with Ayla.

"We know you will," Kharjo says and Ayla laughs at his comment while Xaliyah glares at the Kahjiit. She turns to look at Brynjolf only to see him gone. She lets out a sigh and turns around as they approach the entrance to the Palace.

"Hopefully this goes well," Ayla mutters to them as they walk through a group of citizens, who glance at them in curiosity before going about their day.

"It will," Kharjo replies as they walk through the doors and into the Palace of Kings. The doors close with a thud that echoes through the hall. A few people inhabit the room. Three people sit at the table, quietly dining on the food provided. A steward stands next to the throne, arms crossed and with a tired expression on his face.

"Thank the Divines," Xaliyah says with a relieved sigh, "I feared I would freeze to death out there,"

"You should have told Brynjolf," Kharjo says and Ayla bites her lip to keep herself from smiling or laughing as she knows exactly where this is going, "I'm sure he would have warmed you up,"

"Oh haha," Xaliyah says as they walk further into the hall, "watch it, Kharjo," Ayla rolls her eyes while smiling as she stops at the table, sighing when she sees the throne is empty.

She is tired and hungry and she wants to get this talk over so she can finally sleep before the long journey to her base. She looks over to her left when she hears voices from a room in that direction and knows that is where Windhelm's Jarl is.

"You smell like a dog," a voice snaps angrily at her and she looks down at the people currently occupying the table. She stares at a blonde Nord woman with a circlet on her brow and wearing fancy clothing, sitting near the edge of the table. She is obviously important in some way.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil," Ulfric says suddenly, walking out of the room with a man with a bear hood behind him, "I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths,"

Ayla leans on the end of the table, purposely trying to piss the woman off. and listens as he continues, playing with a dagger, "I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves!"

"I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight...because I must," silence follows and Ayla glances over her shoulder to see Kharjo and Xaliyah glancing at the food every now and then.

"Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric," Galmar says, breaking the silence, "And that's why you will be High King. But the day words are enough, will be the day soldiers like us are no longer needed,"