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The sun shone brightly in the cloudless day over Solitude. Children laughed and played in the warm daylight, while merchants and vendors did their best to talk people into buying from their stock. Red brick was the main colour of the many buildings, and each had a prestigious feel to it from the details carved into the wood, and the style of them. It was in almost every way imaginable the exact opposite of Windhelm.
Ulfric ran a hand through his hair, keeping it out of his face as the chilling breeze did its best to displace it. He strode with none of his Stormcloaks with him, as he was sure he wouldn't need them. Only his Lieutenant, one of his most trusted friends, was with him. Ulfric's steps were proud, with his back held straight, giving people no more than a glance as they strode by.
Windhelm was his city, with the walls standing longer than any other's, and completely blanketed in snow. It was covered in blue, grey and white, with shades of orange and gold from each window. Despite its age, it still had a certain beauty to it; one that no other city could hope to achieve. He had to admit though, this city actually got to see the sun on a regular basis, which was something he never had.
He sighed, the breath feeling nearly jagged as he thought of what he was going to do. He wished it would be a simple visit, that he could smile and exchange stories and jokes while drinking a bottle of mead, but he knew that wouldn't happen. He knew the outcome of this day, and what it would cause, and the only thing he could say was that he was both nervous, and excited.
Despite his excitement, many questions ran through his mind. What exactly would happen due to my actions on this day? How many people would die or be left homeless like after the Great War? He shuddered as memories of the war flashed through his mind once more. It may not have left as many physical scars as one might have thought, but the damage still hadn't fully recovered, and never would. He steadied his breath as he walked through the streets cluttered with people in groups here and there. He had to save his energy for what was to come.
The Blue Palace was as impressive as he remembered seeing it years back, when the newest High King had been chosen. He never liked it though. It felt to Cyrodiilic to him, rather than something a Nord would make his meetings in, like the Palace of Kings. Birds flew to the east, as if they knew Ulfric was walking nearer and nearer to them. Seeing this, he huffed; nearly a laugh, but not quite, with it never escaping his lips. He rested his left hand on the hilt of his blade, tightening his grip on it, and then loosening it in his nervousness over the whole situation. But he had to do this; even if he might not want to. He never would've thought that he'd be willingly branding himself a criminal of the Empire, but this was his choice and he couldn't back down now. He knew of the support of the holds near him, but it didn't help settle his unrest, no matter how much he wished it to.
One of the guards, clad in his red styled armour, only slightly different from the guards of Windhelm, raised his hand and gave the Jarl a single nod. “Jarl Ulfric,” his voice was almost as straight as it could possibly be, nearly devoid of any emotions. Ulfric gave him a quick nod and let the guard open the door ahead of him.
Inside the Palace, white was the dominant colour of the floor, with each piece cut to perfection and set in a tilted pattern, with small iron casts in each of the corners. It was a simple, yet effective pattern that gave off even more feelings of Cyrodiil than he would've allowed in Windhelm. The walls were also of white, with iron trimmings along the edges. It was a palace, no doubt; but one for an Imperial, rather than a Nord.
The Lieutenant was as fine with it as Ulfric was, constantly making a face of disgust at the style of the large, and still impressive, building. The stairs wound up in a style that showed off how proud the building was even more. Two sets of stairs lead up to where the thrones were, with a large plant in the centre. The guard nodded to Ulfric, and he returned a dip of his head. Ulfric chose the right set of stairs to walk up, with his Lieutenant following him. Not that it mattered much, but he felt that the right side was just... better.
High King Torygg was sitting on his throne on the other side of the small hall, laughing with Elisif about something or another. A shame he would have to end their fun. Upon spotting Ulfric, Torygg smirked, irritating Ulfric although he refused to show it.
“Ah,” Torygg spoke, his voice echoing slightly across the walls. “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm. How have you and your Stormcloaks been, hm?”
Ulfric stood tall and proud, his hands behind his back. “They've been well.”
Torygg smiled at this, one that spoke more than Ulfric guessed his vocabulary extended to. “Good to hear.” Taking a drink from the wineglass in his hand, he waved it at Ulfric for a moment. “Come, isn't it customary for a Jarl to kneel to his King?”
Ulfric bit back a snarl, and settled with getting down on one knee, with his Lieutenant remaining by the stairs. He lowered his back so that his face was about a foot away from his knee, and then stood up once more.
Torygg merely dipped his head. “So, what have you come he-”
Ulfric cut him off with his own question. “Who are you that I must bow so low?”
Torygg tried to speak once more, but Ulfric beat him to it.
“Only a puppet in a red coat, that's all the truth I know.” Ulfric's eyes were fixed on Torygg, who glared at him. He could nearly see fire in his King's eyes.
“You dare call me a puppet? I could kill you, and no one would care except for your pathetic Stormcloaks.”
“You may have claws, but mine are long and sharp as well. Maybe even more so than yours.” Ulfric said, a cold smirk on his face. Oh, how I waited for this day.
By now, the entire room had gone silent, and everyone's attention was purely on Torygg and Ulfric.
“Are you saying you're better than me?”
Ulfric nodded curtly. “I am, and I believe this to be the case. Do you wish to put it to the test?”
Torygg eyed him suspiciously. “How so?”
Ulfric smiled just a little bit more than before. “By a duel of course. We may use anything at our disposal. The winner proves they're correct, and the loser...” he paused for a dramatic effect. “Well, they get to be remembered as a fool.”
Torygg smiled deviously. “Fine. I'll take you up on your challenge. We'll fight in the courtyard at Castle Dour!”
Elisif's eyes went wide at her husband's declaration. “Torygg, this is not wise. You know this.” Her voice was but a whisper, but it seemed as loud as a dragon's cry. Not that he'd heard one, but from reputation, they were known to be quite loud.
Torygg silenced her, and walked right up to Ulfric, looking up at the man who stood a few inches higher than he. “You will fall, and you can rest assure that your body will be sent back to Windhelm in a box.”
Ulfric smirked and looked his rival right in the eye. “Speak for yourself.”
Ulfric's Lieutenant was the one who wasn't surprised by the turn of events, and lead the way to Castle Dour. If he ever wondered if everyone in the room, including a few guards, followed him, he never spun around or even glanced at the party behind him. He simply took step after step towards the large castle straight ahead, getting larger and more intimidating with every step.
By the time they finally made it to the Castle, most people were exhausted, panting from the exertion of walking up the hill, and the road before it. It seemed Torygg's advisers didn't walk around much, let alone go outside for more than an hour.
The courtyard was cleared within minutes, and the guards who were training stood away from where the actual duel would take place. Ulfric's heart pumped as fast as it did during his times on the field in the Great War. He was still worried about dying, but he had something that Torygg did not. The power of the Thu'um.
When everyone was in position, and Torygg stood on the other side of him in a large, empty area, Ulfric drew his sword, and Torygg did the same, although much clumsier. He would've laughed, if he wasn't going to fight to the death with the man. Ulfric's Lieutenant was the one who counted down, “Three, two, one, fight!” He hopped a few steps back after he spoke.
Ulfric kept calm and moved slowly, as if taking a casual walk in the woods, or a field. Torygg on the other hand was much more jumpy, constantly moving and jumping back and moving forwards. At one point, Ulfric jumped out a step like he was going to fling himself at Torygg, who yelped and fell over. Ulfric laughed, and took a few steps back, not bothering to watch if Torygg would get up fast and stab him. He turned around and Torygg had just gotten up and grasped his blade once more.
They circled one another a couple more times, neither one making the first move. Torygg was the one who ended up doing so, bringing his sword down in a swing for Ulfric's head. He blocked it, the sound of metal against metal ringing in their ears. They broke the attack, and settled with circling one another once more. Torygg attacked again, this time going for a sideways strike, which Ulfric blocked as well. He brought sword up and took a swipe at Torygg, just barely cutting his stomach. Torygg gasped and held his hand to his stomach for a moment, glancing at the crimson fluid now on it before diverting his attention back to Ulfric.
Another swing, this time from Ulfric, which Torygg blocked, but was unable to block the punch to the face he received. He grunted, and snarled at Ulfric. He swung wildly, and he found another strike against his body, this time the back of his leg. He gasped at the pain, but otherwise, acted like it had never happened.
Ulfric smirked. His plan was working. He could see Torygg's anger building higher and higher. If he got him mad enough, he could simply stab him. No, he had to use the Thu'um. Why have it if he couldn't use it? He frowned as the Greybeard's lessons came back to him. With a shake of his head, they were dispelled, and he focused once more on the fight.
Another downwards strike, with a punch to Torygg's stomach following it only moments after. Torygg narrowed his eyes, but stood his ground. For now... One attack got Ulfric's arm, and he grunted as he felt the distinct feeling of blood oozing from the wound. He wouldn't let a petty wound get the better of him. Not now, and never in the future. He had learned that was the simplest way to die. Charge in on pure anger, rather than simple planning and remaining calm.
Torygg swung his blade with all his might, seeming to throw himself along with the blade. Ulfric just barely blocked it, and swiftly kicked Torygg's shin and landed a punch to his face, hearing a distinct crack as he broke his rival's nose. That was what finally got Torygg. He yelled out as he charged his blade straight for Ulfric's heart...
“FUS... RO, DAH!” Ulfric's voice rung loudly throughout the Castle as he unleashed his Thu'um. Torygg went flying, his sword flying from his hand and landing somewhere about seven feet from where Torygg laid. Ulfric strode over, no smile on his face, or anything other than a face that you couldn't tell what they were thinking at all. He looked down onto Torygg, who coughed once and raised a broken hand to block out the sun.
Ulfric took in a breath, tightened the grip on his sword once more, and stabbed Torygg deep into the heart. Torygg groaned, and Ulfric could see a tear slide down his face, before he laid still and motionless. “Rest well in Sovngarde,” Ulfric mumbled under his breath closing his eyes respectfully, and pulling out his sword and grabbing a small rag from his belt to clean it off.
Elisif ran over to Torygg and wept, while the other members of the King's council let their heads fall. Even Ulfric's lieutenant dipped his head. “May he rest well in Sovngarde.” His voice was flat and emotionless.
“May he rest well in Sovngarde.” The King's council spoke in unison.
Elisif whipped her head around at the sound of them, and looked eyes with Ulfric, a glare colder than the grave. It sent a shiver down his spine. “Why did you kill him?”
Ulfric didn't smile or laugh, but answered as he would a simple question. “I killed him to prove he, and the Empire, was weak. Those drinking Imperial coin have grown lazy and can't fight properly, but sit in their Palaces like they killed to get there. I killed him to prove my point that the Empire is nothing but a puppet to the elves, and that those who still follow it are nothing more than politicians. Not fighters, like Skyrim needs.”
He took in a deep breath and released it, signalling to his Lieutenant to come with him. One of the guards ended up seeing Ulfric walk off, and Elisif smiled to herself. “Guards! Help! Ulfric has killed our King!”
Ulfric whipped his head around and saw the guard, and their eyes connected, before he glanced at Elisif, with an evil smile on her face.
“You, stop right there!” The guard shouted, beginning to run after Ulfric.
Ulfric and his Lieutenant broke into a sprint, making their way down from the castle and right to the gates. They opened after what seemed to be an incredibly long time, and they bolted out of it and down the cobblestones to their horses. They hopped on and Ulfric gave one last look at Solitude. “This will be the last time I see this city for a long time,” he said more to himself than anything else.
With that, he turned his horse around, kicked into the beast's sides and let the horse gallop off.
The civil war for Skyrim had officially begun.