Chronicle of a Half-Elf
Einar, 13 years old.
Einar lived in a small village on the border of Skyrim, though technically, it didn't belong to that land. Still, he felt a connection to it"his father had been born there before moving away.
Driven by curiosity and the desire to understand the origins of his blood, Einar decided to cross the border.
But the moment he did, he was surrounded by Imperial patrols.
Of course, he could've escaped easily… or even fought his way out. But he had no interest in being hunted like a criminal. He figured it would be smarter to get captured and then find a legal way out of prison. Perhaps even offer to join the Imperials.
After all, he had mastered both alchemy and enchanting, was skilled in combat, and wielded weapons of exceptional quality"creations of his own.
So he let himself be captured without resistance… even took a nap while being transported to what he assumed would be a prison.
When he awoke, he was on a wagon alongside other prisoners. One of them was watching him closely.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake," said a Nord with a firm voice. "Tried to cross the border, didn't you? Walked right into that Imperial ambush"same as us… and that thief over there."
The supposed thief, sitting next to him, snarled in anger.
"Damn Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you lot showed up. The Empire was perfect… If it weren't for you, I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"
He turned bitterly toward Einar.
"You should be mad at these bastards too, huh?"
But Einar didn't answer. He didn't even show emotion. His eyes were narrowed, fixed on the horizon. Something felt off. The place they were heading toward had a strange atmosphere… and he could smell blood in the wind. His heart beat with unfamiliar tension.
Annoyed at being ignored, the thief turned toward the gagged man beside Einar.
"And who's this guy?"
"Watch your tongue!" snapped the Nord. "That's Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
The name made Einar raise an eyebrow, faintly interested. He remembered it from books"tales of a strong, courageous leader… though some called him a traitor.
But seeing him in person, Einar found him… disappointing. Weak. At just 13 years old, he felt he could defeat the man with ease. Was it arrogance? Maybe.
"…Oh gods, where are they taking us?" the thief whispered, fear creeping into his voice.
Einar closed his eyes, ignoring the rest. Better to conserve his strength… and maybe plan a future escape.
When they arrived at their destination, the town was crawling with Imperials. At the center stood a tall man with a severe expression.
"General Tullius. Military governor," the Nord growled. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him… Damn elves. This is probably their doing."
Einar frowned. As a half-elf, the comment was a personal insult. He remembered what was said about Skyrim: a land of hatred, racism, and scorn for those who were different.
One by one, the prisoners were taken off the cart and lined up for execution.
A soldier read from a list, checking each prisoner.
"And who are you?" Hadvar asked, puzzled.
Just then, the thief made a break for it… only to be brought down by a storm of arrows.
"Einar," the boy replied, his calm unwavering.
"Captain, what do we do? He's not on the list," Hadvar said, turning to the officer beside him.
She looked at Einar with contempt, as if he were dirt.
"Execute everyone who came in the carts. General's orders."
"Yes, Captain… I'm sorry, kid. Just following orders," Hadvar muttered, lowering his gaze.
Einar, unfazed, walked calmly with the woman toward the execution block. His eyes met those of General Tullius, who was in the middle of mocking Ulfric.
Tullius felt that gaze. Strong. Steady. Dangerous.
He slowly turned his head and met Einar's eyes.
A spark of curiosity lit up in the general's expression, while the captain scowled.
"How dare you look at the general like that?!" she snapped, drawing her sword.
"Stop," Tullius ordered, stepping forward.
"You don't look like a Nord…" he said, examining Einar's face.
"My father is from Skyrim. My mother isn't," Einar replied, unmoved.
"There's battle in your eyes. Arrogant fool, or someone with real power… Only a warrior looks like that when facing death. Why is this boy here?"
"Ahem… He tried to sneak into Skyrim. We caught him," the captain replied, visibly uncomfortable.
"Didn't he say his father's from here? Does he have documents?"
"Yes. They're in my bag," said Einar casually.
"General, you ordered us to execute everyone from the carts…" the captain began, trying to justify herself.
"Release him," Tullius ordered, completely ignoring her.
Einar merely tensed his arms… and the chains shattered, falling to the ground.
The soldiers stared in awe. Even Tullius looked surprised.
"That wasn't necessary. I was just observing. But now… I'd like to challenge someone to a duel. The highest-ranking soldier among you. You must be strong, right?" Einar's calm voice was sharp as a blade, chilling the air.
The soldiers instantly aimed their bows at him.
"Wait!" Tullius shouted, raising a hand. "I like your spirit, boy. But now's not the time. How about a sparring match later? If you lose… you join the Empire."
"Deal," Einar nodded, a faint smile appearing on his face.
"Stand aside for now," said Tullius, nodding toward Hadvar before returning his attention to executing the traitors.
Einar walked calmly over and stood beside Hadvar, watching with interest as the events before them unfolded.
"It's good it didn't end in execution," said Hadvar with a somewhat relieved smile. "It wouldn't be right to kill an innocent man. Those who cross Skyrim's border without permission are only supposed to be expelled… or sent to prison."
"I know. That's why I let myself get caught," replied Einar, with a calmness that didn't match the situation. "Though, to be honest, I was also hoping for a fight against all the soldiers while escaping."
Hadvar thought he was joking… He didn't know that, thanks to General Tullius' sudden interest, a massacre had been avoided. Although another, far more terrible, was already approaching from the sky… and that one couldn't be dodged.
While a priest began praying for the souls of the condemned, one of the Stormcloaks grew impatient.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" he growled in fury, walking on his own toward the executioner. He knelt without fear, placing his neck on the chopping block.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" he added with a defiant smile, right before the executioner's blade hissed through the air and his head fell into the basket with a dull thud.
"What do you think of the Stormcloaks?" Hadvar asked suddenly, eyeing Einar with curiosity.
"I'm half-elf," Einar replied, slightly turning his head toward him. "What do you think?"
Hadvar understood immediately and nodded with a bitter smile.
Just then, a deep and strange growl echoed from the skies, making everyone look up… but they saw nothing.
Einar's heart began to pound. Something inside him stirred, a dark premonition growing stronger with every second.
"Something wrong?" Hadvar asked, noticing the tense expression on Einar's face.
"Something is coming," Einar said gravely, eyes fixed on the horizon.
But the executions continued as if nothing were happening.
The roar came again, this time louder… closer.
"Did you hear that?" Hadvar asked, worried.
And then… a dark shadow slid over them all.
General Tullius' eyes went wide.
"By Oblivion… what is that?"
"A dragon?" said Hadvar, his voice trembling.
A dragon, as black as the deepest night, descended from the sky with a deafening roar. It landed atop one of the towers, its blazing gaze fixed on the humans as if judging their fate.
With a thunderous roar, it spoke words in an ancient tongue. The clouds began to swirl and gather, darkening the sky. The sun vanished. Chaos began.
The Stormcloaks took the chance to escape while the soldiers tried to fight back. Arrows flew through the air… but they bounced harmlessly off the dragon's hard black scales.
"Run!" Einar shouted, pushing Hadvar as fire began to rain upon the town.
...…
Einar awoke gently, sitting up in bed with a thoughtful look.
"I guess seeing so many dragons lately made me remember that stupid dragon," he muttered softly, the name Alduin flashing through his mind like a shadow from the past.
After getting ready, he stepped out of his tent calmly, the cool morning air brushing against his face.
"I wonder how Hadvar's doing…" he murmured to himself, thinking of one of his few friends"his first true comrade-in-arms.
A bitter smile formed on his face as he remembered another, very different face.
"That reminds me of that bastard Tullius… He only won because he cheated," he growled, recalling his battle against the Imperial commander.
Despite the harsh words, deep down, Einar accepted that defeat. He was stronger, tougher, even faster than Tullius. But there was one thing the general had in abundance: experience.
Tullius was a master of the battlefield. His tactics were as sharp as blades, and his words, subtle knives that could destabilize even the firmest warrior. That day, he didn't win with strength… but with wit.
It was that defeat that led Einar to join the Empire's ranks. He didn't mind. A place full of soldiers was perfect to grow stronger… and perhaps, learn something more from the old fox that was Tullius.
But everything changed when his true nature was revealed: the Dovahkiin.
In less than a month of service, he was granted privileges reserved only for champions chosen by the gods. Since then, they only called him for extreme cases. The rest of the time… he was free. Free to roam Skyrim. Free to prepare.
"If I'm not there… that war might be about to break out again," he whispered, walking through the stone corridors.
At some point, his mere presence had become a legend.
The Aldmeri Dominion feared him.
After all, Einar wasn't just any warrior.
He was a one-man army.
His existence kept Skyrim in relative peace. But even he knew that if the enemy chose to start a war regardless of the consequences… not even his strength would be enough to stop it.
Still…
He made them think twice.
...…
If you're interested in Einar's legacy in Skyrim, I can create specials narrating his feats, the challenges he faced, and the secrets he unearthed in the frozen lands of Tamriel. From his first encounter with the tundra wolves to the moment he discovered his bond with Dragons, each chapter will unveil a key piece of his journey, filled with details that will transport you into his world of battles, magic, and fate-shaping decisions.
On the other hand, if you enjoy the intensity of the Stormcloak rebellion, I'll continue exploring their struggles and victories, but with a different twist: these specials will adopt a more comedic tone, playing with contradictions, absurd rivalries, and unexpected situations that arise along their path. Sometimes, between war cries and conspiracies, there's room for a bit of humor"because even the fiercest warriors need moments of irony in their tales.
I still don't know if I'll let them reach Einar.