The Battle Within

The sun is starting to set on the cold, weary world. I await inside Fort Neugrad with my comrades after gaining control of it, and for Kiya's letter to arrive. I know I have wronged her, and I cannot blame her for being bitter. I have not received a letter from her yet, after I pleaded her to stop this madness and let me take care of her, take her somewhere safe. 

Gods! I wish the cold was gone. I wish I did not have to take sides in this war, in any war. I could not sleep with the thought of her on the other side, slicing my comrades' throats and piercing their hearts with her arrows. I could not bear the thought of us meeting on the field of battle, only to lose one of us when it is all over. 

Yet, I feel like I do want to see her in the field of battle. I would take her down and take her away from all this. If I ever saw her in battle I would grab her and run away from the war, and live with her in Elsweyr or Cyrodiil, where we could be happy and content. That is, if she still loves me. I do not know if she does anymore. I have a done a lot of vile things; I have done everything to lose everything.

The morning started early with Galmar telling us the details of the mission. We were to storm the fort, kill all the Imperial soldiers, and release our troops from prison. Quite easy, I should say, but Kiya's hatred of me is a burden heavier than my sword. I did not think I would be able to swing my sword if I could see her face on every enemy.

We don't really have to do this if we reinforced this Fort, you know.

The first rays of sunlight were shrouded by the dark clouds that loomed above us. They set on the ground a little too late, as blood had already covered it. It was mine. I had let my mind wander to her, and an Imperial soldier had cut my arm from the block I clumsily made. Blood dripped onto the handle of my sword and made it slippery and sticky at the same time, and onto the ground. In that moment, I saw Kiya's face on the soldier, raising a sword with one arm, threatening to strike. I knew then that I had no choice but to keep my thoughts of her at bay, else my life would be lost too, and so would the hope of returning to her arms. I swung my sword, crushing the life out of the soldier with a massive cut from his shoulder down to his belly. 

Blood gets in my eyeees~

I saw Ralof coming in from one of the gates. He seems glad to cut down Imperial soldiers, but for whom does he do it? For his family? For himself? For his leader? Or for Skyrim? There is only one answer for each man in this war. All but me. I do not know what I am fighting for, now. 

Oh hey Ralof! Didn't know you were still alive.

Ralof provided some comfort in the most dreadful battle I have ever been. Not physically exhausting nor painful, but I could not get the anxiety out of me. I was nervous and always staring ahead. Ralof told me to wake up and look sharp, else the enemy will make a mess out of my body.

We found our comrades in the lower level of the Fort. I let Ralof go ahead of me; he can take care of himself, I knew that. I did not want to take part of any killing for the rest of the day. I will rest early and freshen myself up for the more challenging battles ahead. I should ready myself for the worst thing that could happen--face Kiya on the battlefield.

Hey! yourself. I'm doing you a favor.

 It was already morning when we went outside. The sunlight shone on everything--the ground, the bodies of both Stormcloak and Imperial soldiers, their blood, and amputated arms and heads. It was a gory sight, one that I will keep with me for the rest of my life. This is where I start fighting for what I thought I was really fighting for, and not for myself.

Not a good time to joke about that, Ralof.

Word arrives from Windhelm that I was to go to the Reach, where my blade and shield are needed. It is of the most unfortunate coincidence that Kiya is fond of that place. I doubt my heart will find peace until this war is over... if her arrows do not pierce my heart first.

Heaven Hath No Rage

I can't believe that damned Stormcloak had the nerve to send me a letter after all that he's done. And he even goes to make it look like I've betrayed him for joining the Legion and being a thorn in Ulfric Stormcloak's flea-bitten behind. Despite his claims of protecting Lucia from the battle that took Whiterun, she had essentially seen battle, and far too soon. I'd be flaying him right now if my daughter had died in the skirmish. Furthermore, does he really think I'd fall for his ploy that I see him one last time? For all I know, I'd be walking into a trap more devious than what Mercer Frey had laid down for me, Brynjolf, and Karliah.

I stared at the words "All my love" closing the letter before I crumpled it in my hands. I went to the nearest brazier and threw it in the flames. On second thought, I took the bow he gave me, the one of dragonbone, and threw it in, too. The fire didn't take long to consume the paper into tinder, but it didn't seem to have an effect on the bow. And so I decided to lend a hand (two, rather) with some of my more powerful fire spells.

Die. Die. Die!

To my frustration, the bow proved stubbornly resilient to fire damage. It is made of dragon bone, after all, and the dov couldn't breathe fire for nothing. I let the cursed bow smolder in the flames for some time as I pondered on what to do with it. I couldn't just throw it anywhere or sell it. Despite the pain it gives me, it's still the most powerful bow I've ever had. I couldn't risk it falling in the hands of the enemy and being used against me -- just like the weapon I've given Kousei, now that I think of it.

Hardheaded, like the person who forged it.

The Solitude forge was just nearby, and as I watched the smith hammer away at the anvil to make new weaponry, an idea hit me. I took the still-hot bow from the embers and dismantled it. Parts of it had already turned black and sooty, but it was otherwise as strong as ever. Taking some ebony ingots and a spare dragon bone or two, I subjected it to the forge once more, and turned it into a new weapon. I chuckled darkly. Now I can use it to strike down my enemies without being reminded too often about the false love that placed it in my hands.

Time to kill.

I joined several Solitude guards for some time on the archery training grounds testing my reforged bow. However, I had only shot a handful of arrows into the bull's eye before a messenger arrived with summons to the headquarters, as General Tullius would like to have a word with me. I sheathed my weapon and retrieved what arrows I could retrieve before I hurried into Castle Dour. I expected to be given new orders, but to my surprise, the General motioned that I sit on one of the benches so we can have a little talk.

He even fixed the Emperor's problematic plumbing, I assume.

We talked a little about how things were, back in Cyrodiil. I was a bit confused about where the talk was going, but it was quite a relief to have a fellow Imperial understand a bit about how it was like in County Bruma, where I grew up. But I knew better than to assume the General summoned me simply so we can have some small talk about our past. General Tullius saw that, too, and so he then explained how he saw me burning the letter and the bow from one of the parapets. Before I could help it, I blurted out that they were from a Stormcloak I knew, and I was burning the items as an act of separating myself from him. To my astonishment (and fury, I admit), the General expressed that he and Legate Rikke were concerned that I was running too much on hate.

"I thought you were for the Empire! Why are you taking the side of the Stormcloaks?!" was the impertinent retort that left my mouth at once, along with other bitter accusations regarding the fate of Whiterun.

The General, bless him, patiently listened to my furious outburst before soothingly giving a reply. He acknowledged his own oversights where the Battle of Whiterun was concerned, at the same time giving me a subtle rebuke. We could only drive ourselves on hatred for so long until it consumes us too, he said. And a hotheaded warrior in battle was bound to make the wrong decisions.

I thought I was getting demoted.

That said, General Tullius got up and went to the tactical planning chamber where I was to receive my next set of orders. I took them on readily, assuring him that the commands are good as done. He nodded and thanked me for what I've done and am doing for the Legion, but he continued to stress his words of caution even before I left. I inwardly sighed. For the sake of the General and Legate Rikke, I will do my best to keep my feet on the ground where Kousei was concerned.

What are you implying, General?

May the gods grant me the patience and discipline to see this War through.

- Kiya

Wherefore Art Thou?

My dear Kiya,

The gods have not been kind to us all our lives. Only a week ago were we enjoying each other's company and loving, and now we are like enemies. It does not have to be this way, my love. You know what and for whom I fight for--this is for you, for my child, for all of Skyrim! I wish you'd understand that. But I think it is too late now. One of the survivors of the Fort Dunstad attack has described you and your abilities in combat. Ulfric does not know about us, but even if he did, he won't show any mercy towards you. For your sake, Kiya, stop this nonsense with the Imperials! I will not be able to stop the Stormcloaks if they come after you, and you will fall if they do!

One of our scouts was surveying the area around the fort at night to check for any ambush. He was able to detect some Imperial soldiers crouched behind trees and ready to charge at any moment; however, he was not able to get back to the fort in time to warn of the impending attack. He kept his quiet and watched as the Imperials crept quietly towards the sleeping Fort.

He was not able to do anything but watch as his comrades get slaughtered in their sleep. He said he heard cries and shrieks like no other from men he used to call friends, their screams cut short by the slashing of their throats and arrows piercing their necks. He said he saw something from afar, a dark silhouette or a shadowy figure, shooting arrows with extreme precision, striking Stormcloak soldiers who were striking their own comrades.

Now this was what got my attention as he recounted what he saw: he said he saw his comrades slash one another. I am sure there is magic like that, but I am pretty sure there are no magic-users in the Legion--apart from you. It might have been Illusion magic, but I know you are not proficient at it. It had to be Subterfuge, one of the damned Nightingale's abilities.

After the blood spilling was done, he saw some of our men trying to get away from the Fort. It seems as though you did not care if anyone was alive as long as you got what you wanted. Our scout intercepted the soldier running away and helped him on his way. He was struck by an arrow in the belly, and he cannot walk fast nor straight. He fell down after a few more steps, and uttered his last words to the scout: I kept killing my friends, I did not know why. I did not know what I was doing; may our comrades and the gods forgive me. And with that he cried one last tear as he left for Sovngarde. 

Nice boots.

I admit that I did send you to Solitude to get you out of the way of the Whiterun siege, but it was for your own good. I did not think it important for you to know what would happen to Whiterun then, and I kept your home and child safe from any harm. You have no reason to be doing this, Kiya. I love you with everything that I am, and I am doing all this for the greater good of Skyrim. I lied to you and I know it was painful, but know that I did it out of love for you! I brought this upon you, and I blame myself every day I think about how I lied to you! But please, my beloved, it is not too late to stop this madness! I want you by my side, not on the other side! Please, let me see you again, even if it might be the last time. I just want to know you will be safe somewhere far from the war.

All my love,

Kousei

May Those Above Judge Me

Damn them. Damn them all! My heart just sank upon hearing the terrible news of the Stormcloaks' attack on my beloved Whiterun. To compound to my shame, the courier had already run off to who-knows-what destination before I can take back the letter I had written for that wretched Kousei. He was in that battle, that much was plain. Our sources specifically stated that someone who could use the Thu'um took part in the fight to take the city, and they weren't referring to Ulfric Stormcloak either.

Jarl Elisif and Falk Firebeard begged me to stay in Solitude and officially lend my aid to the Legion right then and there, but I had to go back to Whiterun and see the scale of the damage myself. Even at that moment, I still hoped. Hoped that perhaps it was all just a rumor. Hoped that they were wrong about Kousei. But only a fool would hope for that, as I learned later on.

Not even seen the worst of it yet.

Tears came to my eyes when I saw how Whiterun had changed. Smoke still rose from the ashes of several ruined houses even though the siege was completed several days ago. The beautiful Gildergreen was spared, thankfully, even though sections of the park lay in ruins. I sought out my young daughter at once, and I cried out in relief to see that she was safe. Lucia clung on to me for a while, refusing to let go. And so I spent the night with her in Breezehome, humming songs to her like my own mother did when I was upset. It assuaged Lucia's grief a little. If only I could say the same for mine.

War children.

It took me until the next morning to get myself composed enough to finally enter Dragonsreach. I stared blankly at Vignar Gray-Mane sitting on Jarl Balgruuf the Greater's throne. He wasted no time bragging about how glorious the Stormcloaks were when they took Whiterun, especially showering praise on the formidable ally of theirs who could well be the Dragonborn of legend. At that moment, my heart turned to stone. I wasn't there to protect my beloved Whiterun. I wasn't there to help protect Jarl Balgruuf.

No.

I was lured out of it. That damned Redguard tricked me out of it all.

I hope your thirst for blood has been satisfied, Kousei.

I rushed back to Solitude as quickly as Arvak can take me and wasted no time demanding an audience with General Tullius in Castle Dour. He was a little irritated at the intrusion, but he stopped his complaints upon seeing me. Clearly, he never thought he'd cross paths again with the Imperial prisoner who was unlucky enough to be caught in the same ambush that temporarily put Ulfric Stormcloak in chains.

And another of those prisoners is on the other side of the War!

When he asked about my purpose for wanting to talk to him, I went straight to the point and told him that I wished to enlist in the Legion. The General took a moment to consult with his second-in-command, the Nord Legate Rikke, who encouraged him to accept me as part of their ranks. They have received word from Jarl Elisif herself about my recent feat against Queen Potema's shade. If I have her trust, then the Legion would benefit from me too.

"Good feelings" are hard to come by these days.

Assured of my credentials, General Tullius told me of the oath I should take to complete my initiation into the Legion. I took a deep breath before I confirmed my readiness. No turning back now.

I am more for the citizens than for the Emperor.

As I repeated the General's words, I thought about how I delayed choosing sides in this cursed war for Kousei's sake. I knew he was already a full-fledged Stormcloak ever since we began our correspondence, and I was afraid of driving a chasm too deep to be crossed between us. I loved him. I really did! And all my misplaced trust landed Whiterun right in Stormcloak hands. I can just imagine how he will mock and spit upon my words of love when my letter -- perhaps the last letter I'll ever send -- reaches him. Did he ever love me? Perhaps he did, but it was not enough for him to abandon the Stormcloak cause. Maybe he stopped loving me the moment he uncovered my Nightingale identity. Once a thief, always a thief -- those were his own words! Even worse, maybe he had always held my Imperial heritage against me. In that case, he is no different from those fanatic traitors in Riften.

Sounds like some prophecy.

Once I have finished saying the oath, General Tullius stopped a moment to ponder on what next action to take. My level of skill, especially in stealth, was beyond that of a regular soldier. He then permitted me to bypass the initial rank of Auxillary and straight into one of the higher ranks. I am a Legionnaire now, and there is a war to be fought.

Does the Legion have any sniper positions open?

Too long, I have allowed myself to be swayed by a false front. Should my blade cross his in the field of battle, all the better. No more pretending. If it's Imperial blood he wants, he will have to get through me first. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty.

- Kiya

Peace and Blood

Flaming rocks flew atop our heads and hit the ground, burning the ground and the grass they rolled onto. Arrows wildly whizzed everywhere. The sky was dark with the smoke of burning trees and rooftops. This is how we'll leave when we're finished, no matter the outcome.

Galmar and I and our squad of soldiers stood outside Whiterun, listening to Galmar's speech against the Empire and the elf-loving Nords who don't know what it's like to live freely. We stood at attention while huge rocks and arrows flew toward us and destroyed stables and farms. We screamed, screamed for the freedom of Skyrim! My second home. My home. 

Who threw that rock? It missed entirely!

As soon as Galmar screamed, "FOR SKYRIM!" we sprinted across the battlefield towards the gates, weapons ready to swing. I dodged arrows aimed at my head--my comrades were not lucky enough. I saw them get crushed under rocks, blood splattering around, and I saw them get hit by arrows, piercing their heads like needles through cloth. I sprinted and sprinted, wanting to end this battle as soon as it started. This is what I saved Kiya from: the destruction and death of the people she lived with. I did what I could to protect her.

I wonder what that horse is doing in the middle of the battlefield.

Swords and axes and war hammers swung at armored citizens of Skyrim from both sides of the war. Heads got disemboweled, arms ripped off, and chests burst with pointed ends. I was at the front lines, carving Imperial soldiers with my words and sword. I felt a pang of sadness and regret that grew stronger and stronger with every soldier killed, be it Imperial or Stormcloak. Is this what I'm fighting for? I guess we are always going to need bloodshed in order to get peace. 

Oh, hey Ralof! (Not in the illumination.)

I pushed these feelings aside and continued pushing deeper into Whiterun. It looked like we were winning, leaving a trail of dead bodies along the way. We stormed the districts, slaughtering enemy soldiers through familiar grounds. I passed a glance at Breezehome to make sure it was safe from harm. I wished I had taken Lucia out of that house before this battle started, but it was too late. All I could do was to wish to the gods they keep her safe.

NO! I'll beat you to it!

Only a handful of my comrades were left to finish the job. The doors of Dragonsreach were open, inviting us in, nay, taunting us to come inside and fight. Several soldiers together with the Jarl and his housecarl were left standing in our way to reclaim Whiterun to our cause. We charged. Two of my comrades immediately fell down to Irileth's magic. I felled two of their guards in return. I blocked the housecarl's magic as easily as bringing her down to her knees. I stepped over her unconscious body and started for the Jarl. He was ready with his sword, but I knew he was no match for me. I urged him not to fight this fight, for it was already over. 

Are you ready, Jarl?

He swung at me with all his might. I blocked it with my shield and bashed him. The force of my shield pushed him away and threw the sword off his hands. He said, "Enough!" The coward. I knew it. He stayed behind his big doors and sat on his fancy throne, waiting for someone else to take action. He got his wish. Here I am. 

Die like your soldiers, you coward!

Vignar, seemingly out of nowhere, arrived at Dragonsreach and disgraced Jarl Balgruuf. He told him to run away from this place, as he had no place in Whiterun anymore. It was true. Whiterun needs a new leader, one who will have more passion. Whiterun is ours. Our first step towards freedom.

Vignar claiming the throne. Like he did any work.

I do not know what Balgruuf's intentions were, but I let him approach me. He was surprised that I was a Stormcloak and expressed his regret and anger at me. "You'll all come to regret this day," he said. One day I probably will, I can feel it.

Well, you should have thought better.

This is the start of a new age in Skyrim. We do not need anyone telling us who to worship or what to do. We cannot let anyone bully us into submission. My mother died fighting people in power who oppressed us, and I will do the same. 

Queen of the Putrescine

My Dearest Kousei,

I do hope everything's all right on your side. It was really kind of you to tell me that I should attend to the request of Jarl Elisif's steward as soon as I got his summons. Prior to that, I was unable to tell you about how I foiled an attempt to resurrect Potema of Solitude (better known by her epithet "The Wolf Queen") in Wolfskull Cave. I had thought the affair was done and over with, but apparently I was wrong.

Did I forget to clean up something?

As soon as I arrived in the Blue Palace, Falk Firebeard requested me to see the Priest of Arkay, Styrr. The old man would be able to explain the matter better, he said. Turns out the shade that was Queen Potema had retreated to some catacombs in the underbelly of Solitude and was causing havoc. Her remains still carried her willful consciousness, and it'd have to be cleansed of her influence if she were to be stopped once and for all.

So I'll have to drag Potema's rotting remains to the Temple of Arkay.

What I know about the Wolf Queen was mostly from books, and amazingly, the Daedric Prince Sheogorath (after all, it was the mind of her son that I had to "cleanse" several letters ago). I guess I have faced much worse enemies before, but I sincerely hoped that the histories were overstating the extent of Queen Potema's debaucheries. Alas, the Wolf Queen was as dangerous to deal with in death as she was in life. There was a different gravity to her voice (a huge difference from our encounter in Wolfskull Cave), and she used it to taunt me every once in a while as I traversed her catacombs...

Thanks, but no thanks.

...catacombs which were filled with traps unlike others I have seen. Potema was a master of Necromancy, as evidenced by the hordes of draugr and vampires -- the first vampires I've seen since we laid waste to Castle Volkihar -- patrolling her halls. But what struck me most were these devious rotating doors. It takes some timing to get them to stop at the right position, and only the Wolf Queen could have conceived of them.

Think you can handle one?

How about three?

Massacre of the undead.

Potema greeted me in one of the last chambers of her hideaway, and I beheld the same swirling mass of light and energy she had taken in Wolfskull Cave. Not yet fully resurrected, indeed. It was the resting place of her "Inner Council," and I had to force my way past them to get to her.

Blue fire against red.

I was unable to get a proper illumination of the fight with Potema's Inner Council due to the need for concentration. Her "Inner Council" was really just a collection of draugr, but there were waves and waves of them. Potema would resurrect some of the downed undead to fight me even more, and she occasionally lashed down with what looked like lightning. The battle was further compounded by the eerie glow cast by the Wolf Queen's consciousness. It was quite difficult to make out your enemies' positions if all you can see was a blinding shade of blue.

Even in phantom form, you are skeletal.

I was beginning to wonder if Potema will ever stop resurrecting the draugr, but thankfully, I can cast more Destruction spells than she could resurrect their rotting hides. I finally got to face the Wolf Queen herself (her remains, rather), and it was her spells against mine. Nonetheless, I have to thank you for giving me a hand with my bladework, Kousei. Queen Potema's magic was not to be underestimated. I crossed blades with the phantom queen before she fell, at long last.

Did you glue that circlet to your skull in death or in life?

I had to pause to regain my breath before I snatched the Wolf Queen's skull from her throne and went on my way. It was still cloaked by her malevolent aura. I knew I had to get it cleansed as soon as I can, or I might end up becoming the new Wolf Queen in mind, if not in name.

You were guilty of inaction before I came around.

How relieved I was when Styrr took the skull from me! As he put Arkay's influence into the remains, he casually remarked that if Potema had been successfully resurrected, she would no doubt and by rights be Empress. I stopped in surprise; I had not even considered that. I only know too well about the criticisms aimed at the current Mede Dynasty, and how their glories pale against those of the preceding Septim rulers. However, I pushed the thought out of my mind at once. Attempting to bring back the Septim Dynasty by putting a resurrected Potema on the Imperial Throne will do more harm than good.

Food for thought, from Falk Firebeard.

Falk was grateful for my efforts, and he shared my thoughts about Queen Potema in the War. I had to smile. Like so many countless others, I often wish that the War had never started at all. But then again, that is wishful thinking, because its roots run deep into history -- far more than anyone can control. We may lament every now and then about the mistakes of the past, but what was done was done. Perhaps it's not so much about bringing back the glory days, but rather, about making most of our limited lifetimes. In the end, we can only hope that we will not make the same mistakes that they did.

With Love,

Kiya

Silence Has Been Broken

My Dearest Kousei,

It's a relief that I could finally get back to writing to you without a heavy heart weighing down the quill. Despite your assurances in your earlier letter, I was admittedly dreading the thought of facing you again. What if you seek to kill me the way you slaughtered your fellow Redguards in cold blood? We met in the same place where you discovered the truth of my Nightingale identity, but I did not reveal myself right away. The shadows had been my home for the past few days, and I stayed there a little longer, watching as you approached. You stood there for a few moments in silence before you turned to where I was sitting. Now, I do not know what kind of training the Companions have been giving you, but I certainly laud them for giving you such uncanny tracking skills.

You called out my name, but even then I refused to budge from my hiding place. Slowly, you took off your helmet and laid aside your weapons. You knelt close to where I was and offered your hands out to me.

"Please, Kiya, you were never afraid of me before," you said.

Something in your tone made my heart clench, and with trembling fingers, I laid my hands in yours. You pulled me into your arms at once. I told myself beforehand that I would not cry, but I guess my plans ended up being thrown out the window. Oh Kousei, I really thought I had lost you.

You're back in paparazzi mode -- good!

We spent a few moments comforting each other, giving tender reassurances that all that has been done was forgiven. Just then, a little note fell from my armor. It was a bounty letter handed out personally by Anuriel, Jarl Laila's steward. I had obtained it from her the day before when I was looking for work, and you were quick to suggest that we take care of the bandit leader together. I enthusiastically agreed. Nothing like repairing a relationship by clearing a bandit hideout together.

Were you afraid the bounty carried my name due to my associations?

The bandits had set up camp in the Dwemer ruins of Bthalft. It was nearing nightfall when we got there, but it was all the better. I am one with the night, and as I have seen lately, so are you. The darkness is on our side.

A lone Dwemer tower in the middle of nowhere.

Just our luck, the bandit leader was standing right at a place where I have a clear shot with my bow. I was able to bring her down with a well-aimed arrow to the head, and you swiftly dispatched of the other bandits who launched a futile counterattack. I got a little disconcerted by the unusually savage form of attack you utilized. I am no stranger to your feats of strength with blade and shield, but to see you pummeling opponents to the ground after jumping on them was something new. Come to think of it, you tried to pin me down that way during our chase around the Rift, didn't you? However, fear not -- I don't consider it to be a matter of grave concern. I really missed fighting by your side, my love, and that's what matters.

Bad idea to stand in the open when you got a marker on your head.

Instead of hurrying back to Mistveil Keep, we chose to spend the night in the safety of the ruins. Gods, how I missed the feel of your skin on mine, without any armor standing in the way. I do not know who (or what) introduced you to your current beastly battle stance, but the way you've applied it to... other aspects has certainly put a smile to my face. Just one thing though, my darling. Were your eyes always so amber in color? I kept convincing myself that it was only the way the lamplight shone on your eyes, but the more I pictured it in my mind, the more it did not seem to be a trick of light.

I wonder where the bandits got this.

If you had your way, I guess we would have continued until daylight, but you kindly stopped to allow me some much-needed sleep. When I awoke, you showed me a pair of blades you found in one of the chests nearby. They were dragon bone, that much we can see. But their design differed considerably from the conventional shape of Skyrim's blades, and I took a liking to them immediately. You offered me one, and I readily agreed. We sparred together for a few minutes using our new blades, but you must have noticed that something was on my mind. You stayed my hand and motioned that we should sit on one of the crates so we can talk comfortably.

I turned the blade idly in my hand as I muttered how it suddenly got me thinking about the Dragons, and their speech. You looked incredulous when I explained that the ability to Shout is not so easily learned, and that the two of us are anomalies where that's concerned. That was the first time I ever told anyone of my reservations about using the Thu'um, Kousei. We both know too well how it had changed the fate of Skyrim in the hands of Ulfric Stormcloak. You must have sensed my fear, because you placed your arm around me and explained that it was not so much a matter of weaponry, but rather, the hand wielding them. I had to smile at your warrior's wisdom. I do hope I will indeed be able to use the Thu'um wisely as you believed me capable of. At that moment, you took out the Nightingale hood that you've been keeping all this time, and gently placed it on me.

"I'd greatly love to see the pretty face beneath every once in a while, though," you said. I laughed a little. Of course, I can give you that.

So, shall we make a pilgrimage to High Hrothgar soon? I've heard the reclusive Greybeards may hold the answers regarding our inborn abilities to harness the dovah speech. Perhaps, they can shed more light into its nature so I would not have to fear it. Once again, thank you for taking me back, Kousei. I love you, and I always will.

All the best,

Kiya