It is cold here in Whiterun as I put pen to paper, but I am mostly content for now...

I am Vikar Wolfson, named by my Nord mother and to the agreement of my Redguard father. Upon their death I received a letter that spoke of my father’s involvement in the Dark Brotherhood, particularly related to their sect headquarters in Skyrim. I journeyed from my home in Hammerfell to the cold, unwelcoming and beautiful land of Skyrim to seek answers and to take revenge if needs be.

I had not long crossed the border when I was caught in a battle between the Empire, curse their iron-fisted ways and the Nords, who I would later on discover were part of the Stormcloak Rebellion and led by a man who is called Ulfric Stormcloak, a man who also claims to be the true High King. Their politics meant nothing to me as a once-loyal supporter of the Empire I was ready to oppose the Nords alongside the Imperial soldiers, however I was struck by a powerful spell and rendered unconscious, I was scarcely able to draw my sword and join the soldiers of the Empire.

When I awoke with a spinning head and aching limbs, I could hear the creak of wheels beneath my body and the sound of voices. I was in a cart or wagon, around me were three other men and we were part of a procession – I was also tied quite securely. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that things were about to get worse, I could not have foreseen the events that transpired in the next hour, nor the part that I would yet play in the overall conflict.

I elected to play the silent protagonist to begin with, to listen and to learn. A warrior can gain much information from the tongues of others, or so my father once told me. My mother was an altogether different temperament and she would have tested her bonds more than once, trying to escape the Empire and dying rather than bound as a prisoner or some lamb led to slaughter.

So it was that I learned the names of my companions on this journey. I was in the company of Ulfric Stormcloak, gagged and bound, which I found odd to begin with but the answer soon became as clear as crystal to me. I learned however that Ulfric is the Jarl of Windhelm and that we were being taken somewhere to be executed; my mother had spoken of Sovengarde before...the afterlife of the Nords...

A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home, she’d said to me when I asked her about death. This memory had been triggered by two men talking on the wagon, a horse thief from Rorikstead and the most vocal of us all, a Nord who I later on came to know as Ralof. But I am getting ahead of myself here journal. I discover the name of the man who will put us to death, General Tullius the Military Governor no less. I should feel honoured but I am confident that the Empire will sort out this mistake and realise that I am no part of the Stormcloak Rebellion. Ralof dislikes the man intensely and blames the Thalmor; damn elves are behind this he snarls.

He shares memories of Helgen, the place we have been taken to and reminisces upon his childhood. I find we have a slight bond of kinship already, bothers and sisters in binds as we are...he too felt safe behind Imperial walls and towers. Yet his fate is sealed, if he is truly part of this rebellion...there is nothing I can do for him. So I remain yet silent...as we draw into Helgen proper I can see the accusing looks upon the villager’s faces, their silent support or hatred painted in the depths of their eyes or written on their lips.

End of the line, Ralof tells us that we should not keep the gods waiting. Our horse thief is scared out of his wits but it would take a stronger power than death to frighten me...I am the product of my father’s strict training in Hammerfell. As we disembark the wagon I am apprehensive, nothing more. The thief pleads ignorance; this will do nothing to sway the iron hearts of the Empire. I know this as fact.

A female voice rings out, I can see her just. She is an Imperial Captain strutting about safely behind her people, swaggering with a voice full of pregnant authority. We are told to step forwards one at a time when they call out our names, step towards the block and the eager headsman who is ready to deliver us to the afterlife. My muscles tense for the first time, there is perhaps a twinge of fear now but I control it, master it, and make it my own.

Ulfric is called first, then Ralof of Riverwood. Now I know my companion’s name, the man who felt safe as a child behind Imperial towers and walls. I regard the thief, I can see he is about to make a mistake. He twitches a little now and then, fear overriding his heart and his feet shuffle on the ground. Lokir or something is his name; I don’t care to remember it correctly for he takes the cowards way out and makes a run for it. Imperial archers soon put a stop and he dies with a dozen or so arrows in his back, not a death that neither the Nords, nor I...respect.

Now it is my turn, only they do not have my name. I am still called forwards and questioned about who I am, where I come from and what I was doing there. I answer to the best of my ability, keeping the reason that I have crossed the border into Skyrim a secret. I do not yet wish to tip my hand that I seek the Dark Brotherhood in relation to my parent’s death...they may have spies inside the Imperial garrison here.

This is where I discover that the Empire is not the shining beacon of light I once trusted or believed it to be. In one fell swoop I am told that I am to go to the block regardless, forget the list. That...woman...if I ever escape this situation, she will be the first to die should we meet again. So I am now counted as part of this rebellion, an innocent Redguard going to his death because of dubious bureaucracy and one woman’s arrogance.

Follow the Captain...

So I do, I am no fool. If I am to meet death early, then I will go like Ralof and Ulfric and those of the rebellion, with a Nord’s fearless desire to reach Sovengarde and prove they are worthy to stand there in the afterlife. I learn that Ulfric murdered the previous High King using his voice, this explains the gag...yet it really means nothing to me. I have my own death to consider now.