It was the twentieth of Frostfall and the throne room in the Palace of the Kings was cold, quiet and mournful. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had just received the news that a dozen of his troops were captured by the Imperials in The Rift. They were in difficult times, the war was getting more heated with every moment. Day after day, his Stormcloak soldiers fight for their beliefs – many times they bring back victories to be re-told in mead halls, however failures happen. Failures that bring mourning to the soldiers' families and cut the numbers from his army.
“My Jarl,” Ulfric looked up to see Galmar Stone-Fist, his most trusted man, second in command and housecarl.
“We need people, Galmar.” Ulfric told the man.
Galmar nodded, grunting. “We need the Dragonborn.”
Ulfric sighed, resting his head on his hands as he sat on the throne. “The Dragonborn is no more, my friend. What we need are True Sons and Daughters of Skyrim, people who do not abandon their country in need.”
“Where will we find soldiers like that, My Jarl?”
Ulfric grunted, sitting back in his throne. “We don't, my friend. Men and women like that come to us.” He said. “We just have to wait for them.”
~*~
When Rexia finally reached Windhelm, she was tired, frozen to the bone and her leather armour was in shreds. On the way from Riften to Windhelm, she was attacked by a group of Frostbite Spiders from which she barely made it out alive and her armour was torn apart by the vicious beasts. Then a snow storm surprised her about two hours away from Kynesgrove and it ended up taking her nearly five to reach the village.
Relief showed on her dark, battered face when the guards let her through the gates. She travelled by foot for the entire journey so all she wanted was to get some rest. The guards said that she could get some food and a bed at Candlehearth Hall which was just in front of the gates. However before she could do that, she needed to get her armour repaired.
After ten minutes of asking around and getting directions, Rexia reached the local blacksmith. He was a Nord, named Oengul War-Anvil who worked with his assistant Hermir Strong-Heart. He seemed like a good, honest man and his assistant was definitely... spirited—she was singing praises for the Jarl of Windhelm to everyone that would listen.
“Hello?” Rexia tapped the blacksmith on the shoulder. He turned to her with a grunt. “I need to get my armour fixed.”
“I can see that, lass. By the Nine, what did you do to get it in that state?” Oengul said to her, examining one of the leather bracers that now resembled leather
strips rather than a sturdy piece of light armour.
“I got ambushed by Frostbite spiders.” Rexia said simply. “How much will it cost?”
“I'm sorry lass, but it will be cheaper for you to buy new armour. There is not much that can be done for most of this. A while set will cost you 240 septims.” The blacksmith said to her.
Sighing in annoyance, Rexia took out her money. She hated spending money, she preferred to steal whatever she needed. However it was a necessity, she needed new armour pretty quick and she didn't have time to have a stroll through the city to see if anyone was hiding away some decent light armour in their chests. She handed Oengul the gold. “I'll just get it for you. I have some leather armour somewhere around here.”
A while later, Rexia was in Candlehearth Hall getting something to eat. She was dressed in some loose-fitting clothes with her new armour back in the room she rented out for the night. The cook placed some Venison Stew and Spiced Wine before her and Rexia gladly dug in. Tomorrow, she would go and see about joining the Stormcloaks, however today was time for rest. Her whole body was aching from the journey and losing her favourite armour didn't put her in a good mood either.