Whiterun

A Few Days Later…

Kinetrius awoke to the sound of soft footsteps nearby.

His body ached all over, a dull throbbing in his ribs and face reminding him of his injuries. His breath was shallow, and his skin felt feverish, but the worst of the pain had faded since Helgen.

As he blinked his eyes open, his vision was blurry, but he could just barely make out a young girl sitting nearby, watching over him. The moment his eyes focused, she gasped.

“Papa, papa! He’s awake!” The girl darted out of the room, her hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

Kinetrius sat up slowly, groaning at the sharp pain in his ribs. He was in a small wooden house, the smell of hearthfire and fresh timber filling the air. Someone had bandaged him. He ran a hand over his face, wincing at the contact—his wounds were still raw. His clothes sat neatly folded beside the bed.

“Where am I?” He questioned silently.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a broad-shouldered man entered the room. The man had graying hair and a thick build, his expression firm yet kind.

“Whoa there,” he said, raising a hand as Kinetrius tried to get up. “Not too fast, lad. You’ve got some pretty bad injuries—let’s take it slow, shall we?”

Kinetrius hesitated, then eased back down, his breath still unsteady. The man poured a glass of water, then handed it to him. Kinetrius reached for it carefully, his throat dry and aching from years of silence.

“Wha—” He coughed, his voice hoarse and weak. “What is this place?”

“You’re in a little town called Riverwood.” The man crossed his arms. “Just a few miles from where you were attacked.”

Kinetrius froze. Attacked. The memories came flooding back. The Imperials. The execution block. The dragon. His breathing hitched.

“We were—” His voice cracked as panic surged in his chest. “We were attacked. By a drag—”

He broke into a fit of violent coughing, his body weak and shaking.

“Calm yourself, child,” the man said firmly, resting a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I heard all about it from my nephew. And from the elven gentleman who brought you here.”

Kinetrius looked up sharply.

“You spoke of an elven man… Eradros. Is he still here?”

“Sure is. Said he had to grab some things in town but wanted us to alert him the moment you woke.” The man nodded toward the door. “Just sent my daughter to go fetch him. Drink this—he’ll be back soon.”

Kinetrius hesitated, but the man’s calm voice steadied him. He took small sips, his gaze drifting toward the window.

Outside, villagers went about their daily lives—as if death from the skies hadn’t just ravaged Helgen.

How can they act like nothing happened?

His thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open again.

A familiar figure stepped inside—an Imperial soldier, clad in armor.

Kinetrius recognized him immediately. The soldier from Helgen. The one who had called names from the execution list.

“Ah, Hadvar, you’re back,” the older man greeted.

Hadvar nodded in respect. “Greetings, Uncle. Any word on our guest?”

“He sprung up just a few moments ago. Go talk to him—I’ve got work to do outside.”

Hadvar turned toward Kinetrius and sat beside him on a stool.

“How are you feeling, lad?”

Kinetrius let out a dry chuckle. “Like I was attacked by a dragon…”

Hadvar laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. But you’re alive, huh? More than most of the people that were there can say.”

Kinetrius’s stomach twisted.

“What do you all intend to do… the Imperials, I mean?”

Hadvar sighed. “Not sure yet. First step is to warn all the nearby towns. Maybe start a campaign to rid ourselves of the beast.”

He shook his head.

“To be honest, we haven’t seen dragons in Skyrim in hundreds of years. Not sure we’re equipped to handle a thing like this.”

Kinetrius’s gaze lowered.

“No, I meant… I meant about me. I was scheduled to be executed, remember?”

Hadvar paused. He had almost forgotten—the boy had been a prisoner before all of this. Hadvar reached into his satchel, pulled out a worn piece of parchment, and studied it for a moment.

The prisoner list.

Then, without hesitation, he tossed it into the fireplace. Kinetrius watched as the paper curled and blackened, dissolving into ash. Hadvar leaned back.

“As far as I’m concerned… all records of such things went up in flames with Helgen.”

Kinetrius swallowed hard.

“But I did kill those people…”

Hadvar sighed. “I know.”

Kinetrius looked at him warily, expecting judgment or anger. Instead, Hadvar’s gaze was calm, almost understanding.

“The guards there didn’t have much info at the time,” Hadvar explained. “But after questioning the locals, we discovered that you were attacked first. Some even said they saw you being stalked.”

Kinetrius froze.

“They only held you to figure out what you used to cause all that destruction.”

Hadvar’s expression darkened.

“They never found an answer. So they thought it best to just get rid of you. You weren’t from Skyrim… therefore, no one would bat an eye.”

A bitter chill ran through Kinetrius’s veins.

“So… Ulfric was right then.”

Hadvar scowled. “Wait, you talked to that maniac?”

Kinetrius nodded. “On the way to Helgen. He said he and I were alike… and that the Empire wished to be rid of people like us.”

Hadvar’s jaw tightened.

“Look, lad… I’ll be the first to admit this wasn’t the Empire’s best example of justice. But that man is a psychopath.”

His eyes hardened.

“He murdered High King Torygg and stole his throne from under him. All of this just to throw Skyrim into yet another war. It’s like Tullius said—some actually see him as a hero… or something. But they haven’t seen the battlefields. The valleys of dead bodies that lay there in the name of the Stormcloaks.”

Hadvar exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Kinetrius stayed silent, his thoughts tangled. Hadvar’s voice softened.

“Sorry. I…” He sighed. “I still don’t know what happened that day… but it seemed like Ulfric did. Like he was sure of it, almost.”

“If what Eradros tells me is true,” Hadvar said, folding his arms, “then there’s power within you. But a man like Ulfric would have you use it only to burn the world to the ground.”

Kinetrius sat quietly on the edge of the bed, still sore and bandaged. His gaze flicked to the floor, avoiding the weight of those words.

“Where is Eradros anyway?” he asked.

Hadvar exhaled softly. “Ah… he’s around town somewhere. And you seem to be on your feet. Why don’t you get dressed—I’ll take you to find him.”

With a quiet grunt, Kinetrius pushed himself up. Pain flared in his ribs and knees, but he grit his teeth and forced himself upright. Every movement tugged at bruises and half-healed wounds. Getting dressed felt like suiting up in armor made of splinters, but after a few slow minutes, he managed. Hadvar had already stepped outside, giving him space.

While he waited, Hadvar glanced toward the smithy where his uncle pounded steel against steel, smoke curling into the pale sky like always. It was a normal morning in Riverwood, but Hadvar knew better than to trust the calm.

Eventually, Kinetrius stepped out into the sunlight, squinting as if the sky itself had it out for him.

“Is it always this bright in Riverwood?” he groaned.

Hadvar chuckled. “Ah, that’s right… been a while since you’ve been kissed by the sun, huh lad?”

Kinetrius cracked a dry smile. “Not really. I saw it just the other day—right before you lot tried to chop my head off. Then a dragon’s head blotted it out.”

The words hung heavy between them. Hadvar froze, his eyes darting nervously toward his uncle, who was thankfully too focused on the forge to hear. Guilt flashed across his face—but when he looked back, Kinetrius was already walking away, that same faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey—wait up!” Hadvar called, jogging after him. “You don’t even know where you’re going.”

Just then, the sound of hooves clattered against stone. A small horse-drawn carriage approached from the road, the reins held by none other than Eradros. Dust trailed behind him as he pulled the cart to a stop and hopped down, cloak fluttering behind him.

“Well, well… you’re up,” he said, noting the boy’s state. “And it looks like the clothes fit fine too.”

Kinetrius blinked up at him, stunned. The last time he’d seen Eradros, he hadn’t known if the man would ever return. A hundred questions piled behind his eyes, but none made it past his lips. He stood there, mouth half open, like a man seeing a ghost.

Eradros arched a brow. “You know, most people try something like ‘Hey,’ or ‘Good to see you,’ for starters.”

Hadvar stepped forward, nodding to the cart. “Is this everything you’ll need for the journey? Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay? The boy doesn’t look fit to travel.”

Eradros clasped Hadvar’s forearm. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, truly. But forces move against us even now. I can’t risk staying any longer.”

“I understand.” Hadvar gave Kinetrius a glance, his voice softening. “Take care of the lad, would you? Maybe he makes out a different lot in life this time, yeah?”

Kinetrius frowned. “Wait—journey? Where exactly are we going?”

Eradros gave a weary smile. “Long story. I’d rather tell it on the road. We need to move fast, before we bring more trouble to Riverwood.”

Without protest, Kinetrius climbed into the back of the carriage. The bags of supplies were lumpy and uneven, but soft enough to rest against. He settled in with a sigh, half surprised at how little he cared where they were headed.

Eradros tilted his head. “That’s it? I thought you’d put up more of a fuss.”

Kinetrius stared at the sky. “I’ve got nothing better to do… and this is what my father wanted.”

“Hmph,” Eradros muttered as he mounted the front bench. “I suppose you’ve got a point.”

With a flick of the reins, the carriage rolled forward down the dusty path, heading toward whatever lay ahead.

“Well then,” Eradros said under his breath, “let us be off.”

And with one last wave to Hadvar and his uncle, they were on their way. Kinetrius sat behind Eradros in the carriage watching him. He seemed tense and very anxious. Although, truth be told he was keeping it all together very well. But it seemed like the very same feeling that plagued his father that day they were attacked.

“So…where are we going first?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

Eradros kept his eyes forward. “To Whiterun. We go there…give word to the jarl of the attack and request more guards in the towns that have no walls. And being within theirs will give us protection for a while.”

“From the men in robes—you mean?”

Eradros sighed. “I don't know why they're after you…or if they've given up on it or not after all this time. On top of it all is the dragon itself. It seemed…threatened by you. Sure—it would have killed us all either way, but something changed when it saw you. Needless to say we've got many questions ahead of us need answering.”

Kinetrius sat for a while and pondered all of the things Eradros had said. He too had noticed the dragon's temper once it laid eyes on him. After a moment of thought, an even more pressing question arose in his head.

“So what was it exactly?” He asked, fidgeting with it scarf. “The deal between you and my father. Is that why you've come for me all these years later?”

Eradros seemed reluctant to answer. Perhaps the asking of this very question is what had him so tense this whole time. He let out a sigh, then scratched his head in frustration.

“To be completely honest…your father didn't give me much of a choice in any of this. Looking back on it now though it seems he didn't have much of one either.”

“What did ask you that day? I remember you two talking briefly before we carried on with our trade. His whole mood changed after that conversation. For the first time in my life…I saw him afraid of something.”

Eradros grew quiet as if trying to make since of it himself. The sound of the carriage filled the space of silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“Your father knew you were being followed. But he insisted I do nothing. He only said to get to you if he were to fall.”

“But…why,” Kinetrius asked, his face twisting with confusion. “Why didn’t he stop them?”

Eradros sighed. “That…I do not know lad. In fact; getting that answer is the reason I continued to search for you after the attack. The guards had taken you in by the time I arrived and weren't going to let you go until they got to the bottom of things. It took many a bribe just to find where they were keeping you.”

The boy sat against the wall of the carriage feeling defeated. “Every question i have about all this is only answered with more questions… Why is all of this happening to me?”

Eradros turned to look at Kinetrius. He noticed the boy's face was riddled with fear and doubt. He felt responsible for killing the his morale even though he answered honestly. He himself was feeling similar emotions. He didn't understand why Falwon would give his life so easily. Why couldn't they just have dealt with it and gone on with their lives? He knew that both of them feeling down in the dumps simply would not do.

“Hey kid….listen… Its hard for me to make heads or tails of any this as well. But we finally found each other…as far as i'm concerned, it's a start. So don't you go lowerin' your head like some sad pup. Once we get to Whiterun, we've got work to do. Understand?”

Kinetrius raised his head and looked at Eradros. His future a few seconds ago looked very bleak and uncertain, but the elf's words created light for him. He hadn't had anything to look forward to since coming to Skyrim. Most of the important things in his life were now distant memories. But something in him wanted to hold on to what Eradros said rather than wallowing in self pity. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the moon hiding behind each passing tree.

“Sounds like a plan—I guess.” He said reluctantly, wanting to find a silver lining in all this.

Eradros smirked. “Thats the spirit…you just relax until we get there. If you get bored I've got some books and magic tomes in the back. Help yourself.”

Kinetrius was very fond of books. This was only natural given that he grew up in a city known for it's magical academics. He found some conjuration spell tomes in a bag beside him. He hadn't had any practice with magic. His father would give him quick lessons with the sword on his return from his trips but magic was not to be practiced unless in an appropriate environment. After everything he had been through he had little need for such limitations now.

[The Next Day]

Morning had arrived, casting golden light over the rolling plains of Whiterun. Kinetrius remained fast asleep, his head buried beneath the pages of a book he had been reading during the ride. The steady rocking of the cart and the crisp morning air did little to stir him.

At the reins, Eradros kept his eyes sharp, having stayed up through the night, guiding the horse-drawn cart and keeping watch for any beasts lurking in the darkness. Now, with the forest behind them, the open fields stretched endlessly ahead, leading toward the stone-walled city of Whiterun. The valley sprawled between towering mountains, with farmsteads and wineries dotting the roadsides like scattered pieces of a grand puzzle.

As they passed one such farm, a disturbance caught Eradros’s keen eye.

“Kin… Kinetrius. Hey, kid, wake up. You’re gonna want to see this.”

A groggy mumble came from beneath the book before Kinetrius blinked himself awake. He sat up sluggishly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What’s all the fuss about?” he asked, voice thick with drowsiness.

“Why don’t you see for yourself, lad?” Eradros gestured toward the farm ahead. “Look… over there.”

Kinetrius followed his gaze and sat up straighter, his exhaustion vanishing in an instant. In front of the farmhouse, a battle was unfolding. Five warriors clashed against a towering creature—an enormous, ancient-looking figure clad only in a tattered loincloth. The giant roared in fury, swinging a massive club that sent the ground shaking with each strike.

At the head of the group, a woman with war paint streaked across her face barked orders to her companions. Despite the giant’s relentless assault, the warriors didn’t retreat. If anything, they seemed to revel in the challenge.

Kinetrius’s heart pounded as he watched, awestruck. He had heard stories of giants from his father, tales of their incredible size and strength, but never had he imagined witnessing one being fought in open combat. The sheer spectacle of it left him breathless.

The giant let out a thunderous bellow and swung its club in a devastating arc, narrowly missing one of the warriors—a dark elf who barely dodged in time.

“Whoa now! That was a little too close, mate!” the elf called out.

The war-painted woman drew her bow, her sharp eyes locking onto the beast. “Keep it up, Athis! We’ve almost got him!”

The creature focused its rage on the men before it, giving the woman the opening she needed. She loosed an arrow, and it found its mark—piercing the giant’s eye.

The beast howled in agony, staggering back, but the attack only seemed to enrage it further. It turned, locking onto the archer with newfound fury, and charged.

“Farkas… NOW!” the woman shouted.

A hulking Nord wielding a massive war hammer rushed in from the side, using the giant’s blind spot to his advantage. He swung with every ounce of strength in his body.

“Here goes nothin’…!”

The hammer connected with a sickening crunch, shattering the giant’s knee. The creature let out an earsplitting roar and collapsed to the ground, barely able to support its own weight. Even so, it fought on, desperately swinging its club at the warriors surrounding it.

The war-painted woman loosed another volley of arrows, most of which the beast swatted away. But it was growing weaker.

Seeing an opportunity, the dark elf warrior took a running leap, landing atop the giant’s broad back. With a swift and brutal strike, he drove his sword deep into the creature’s flesh.

The giant let out another anguished cry, its blood soaking the dirt beneath it. Its once-mighty swings turned sluggish, its strength rapidly draining from the relentless assault.

An Imperial woman, shield and axe in hand, charged forward. She rammed her shield into the giant’s face with enough force to send it sprawling onto its back, dazed and defenseless.

“Nice work, Ria,” the war-painted woman called. She stepped forward, sword in hand, and gazed down at the fallen creature.

For a moment, she hesitated, almost as if she pitied the beast. Then, her grip tightened on her weapon.

“You fought well, my friend,” she murmured. “And for that… I’ll end your suffering here and now.”

With a single, precise thrust, she plunged her sword into the giant’s throat. The creature shuddered, its body wracked with one last tremor before falling still.

Silence hung in the air before the warriors let out triumphant cheers, congratulating one another on their victory.

Kinetrius sat frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief. His pulse still pounded from the sheer thrill of what he had just witnessed. He turned to Eradros, barely able to find his voice.

“Who are those people?”

Eradros gave a small, knowing smirk. “Those, lad… are the Companions.”

The battle concluded, the warriors began making their way back toward the city. As Eradros and Kinetrius approached along the road, the war-painted woman spotted them.

She noted the boy’s wide-eyed wonder and let out a small chuckle. “Greetings, travelers! I hope the battle didn’t startle you any?”

Eradros shook his head. “Not at all, love. In fact, the boy here seemed to love every bit of it.”

Kinetrius remained speechless, staring at the warriors in open admiration. To him, they seemed almost godlike in the way they had handled the giant with such ease. His silence amused them.

The woman smiled. “It’s alright to speak, lad. My name is Aela the Huntress. And these are my comrades, the Companions.” She turned to him expectantly. “And your name?”

Kinetrius blinked, suddenly aware he had been staring. “My name? Oh—uh, my name! It’s Kinetrius.”

Aela’s smile widened. “Nice to meet you, Kinetrius. Tell me… is that your first time seeing a creature of that size taken down?”

Before Kinetrius could answer, Eradros interjected with a smirk. “This child has seen scarier things in his lifetime, I’m afraid. It’s partially why we’re here, actually.”

Aela raised a brow, intrigued. “Scarier things, you say? Well, I would certainly love to hear tales of such things.” She motioned toward the city gates. “Come. I’m sure you have important business to handle first, but perhaps later, you could indulge us with those stories at our headquarters, Jorrvaskr.”

Eradros sighed, shaking his head. “I’m… certainly not going to be able to refuse this request after what he’s just seen of you all. Sure… I guess we could stop by.”

“That is good news,” Aela said warmly. She turned to her comrades and lifted a hand in signal. “Well then, let us enter the city together.”

As they all made their way up the road, Aela looked back at Kinetrius with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“On behalf of the Companions… welcome to Whiterun.”

End of Chapter.