Chapter Text
Zalmon-
Zalmon sighed and looked down at the unconscious Nord. He knew better than to try anything but wait for the city guards.
For Windhelm guards ran at him, weapons drawn. All his instincts said to fight but he remained as still as a statue, barely breathing.
"You! Altmer! You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?"
"He shouted racial slurs and then challenged me, I did not mean to cause him to lose consciousness," Zalmon said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"This is Rolff Stone-Fist, brother of Galmar Stone-Fist. The Jarl's housecarl and second in command," one of the guards said.
"Oh of course, I just cannot catch a break, can I?" Zalmon shook his head and crossed his arms. "If you wish to take me to prison, then so be it. I will not be there long."
"He should be taken to Galmar, have him decide what's best for this," the guards conversed among themselves, never taking their eyes off the Altmer 'prisoner'.
In the end they did end up taking him to Galmar Stone-Fist, who was conversing with Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak about Whiterun.
He bristled slightly at the thought of them sieging Whiterun. He was Thane there, Balgruuf was his Jarl, his friend.
When the guards shoved him towards the two men they silenced and watched him.
Rolff was set down gently for the two men to see.
"Who did this?!" Galmar snarled.
"Oh yes, they would be me," Zalmon smiled and waved.
The man with the bearskin, Galmar, drew his battle axe. He raised his hand to swing when a gloved hand gently touched his arm.
Everyone looked over to see Ulfric standing and watching Zalman.
"You seem familiar," Ulfric's eyes scanned him.
"Oh yes, we've already met," Zalmon mock bowed. "Only back then I was in rags and bindings. Now! Look at me!" He spun around to show off his full set of Stalhrim Light Armor that he had crafted.
"You were at Helgen," Ulfric nodded.
"Yessir!" Zalmon grinned cockily.
Galmar raise his axe over his head and shouted, "That is my brother!"
Zalmon didn't flinch, just turned his gaze at the man, "He challenged me."
Galmar squinted at him and growled.
"Enough, old friend. Take your brother and let him rest," Ulfric dismissed the guards as well.
Zalmon looked back at the Jarl and cocked his head.
"You are not like other Altmer I have met," Ulfric stood before him, just slightly shorter than Zalmon.
"That's because I am a High Elf, the Altmer are dead," Zalmon shrugged.
"You are either a very good spy..." Ulfric crossed his arms, "or you really have no feelings towards being Altmer."
Zalmon just shrugged again and his eyes scanned the room. Taking in every detail, the best route to sneak towards the throne without being seen.
Then he noticed the Court-wizard, his eyes tracked his movements carefully. Something seemed off about him, but he doesn't know what.
Ulfric clears his throat and he snaps back to look at the Jarl.
"You may leave, but I suggest not going far, I will have questions," Ulfric waved his hand dismissively.