Finding the Jarl’s Longhouse in the heart of the city turned out to be the easy part, and within an hour they were standing within the entrance but getting an audience with the Jarl proved to be more difficult. Like most other rulers of Skyrim’s holds had to deal with on a daily basis, there was a never ending stream of petitioners, officials and dignitaries seeking to meet with the rulers of the Holds. Lesser nobles of the hold were also present, some with their own personal Huskarls, but for the most part they all treated the trio’s arrival with a mild neglect, if they took notice of them at all.

  Strangely enough, the wait wasn’t as overly long as what they had been expecting, just long enough for Sofia to start planning ways to steal back her bottle of mead from Kaius, but those plans were countered by the appearance of the Jarl’s Steward. He was an older man, dressed in furs and flesh lined with age, appearing from deeper within the longhouse, taking note of the new arrivals and making his way over to them without a sideways glance to the others in the hall.

  "Good afternoon." The shuffling figure looked over the three of them with little concern, despite the way they were heavily armed and armoured. Compared to some of the others present in the entry hall, it was almost surprising how they were the ones comparatively under protected.

  "Good afternoon." With a deadened clank of metal and leather, Kaius thumped his fist lightly over his heart. "My name's Kaius Desin."

  "Thane of Whiterun Hold." Lydia added automatically, ignoring the stifled sigh from Sofia, as she turned and rolled her eyes at the huskarl.

  Kaius also winced at how Lydia had immediately, and automatically announced his new title. While a thane was a semi-honorary position in most holds, it was still a title of minor nobility and her role would ensure that traditions and protocols would be kept. Even if Sofia believed that Lydia was so committed to protocol that the rod up her arse, had a rod up its arse.

  "Thane of Whiterun?" Unlike the trappings of wealth and power of the nobles in other Provinces, many of those within Skyrim eschewed all forms of decoration or outward symbols of their title and class, and the old man studied the three of them with an experienced eye. Between Kaiuss’ armour, equipment, his new skyforge steel sword at his side and Lydia’s appearance at his back there was more than enough for the older man to accept the claim at face value. "I greet you, Thane Desin. I'm Aslfur Ravencrone; Steward of Morthal."

  "We arrived in Morthal earlier today, and have been informed that the Jarl may be offering some work. Particularly involving a recent house fire."

  "Ah." A surprising amount of weight was added to that single word, and Aslfur gave them all another glance that was precisely taking their measure, eyes softening with a sadness that none of them could identify the source of. "Of course. Please, follow me.”

  Sharing a glance between themselves, Sofia especially rose an eyebrow at the situation. Before she had met Kaius the chances of meeting a Jarl was next to impossible as they didn’t spend their time rubbing shoulders with the locals. Well, most of them at least. Jarl Bulgruuf was known to secretly-not-so-secretly evade his marshall and huskarls on occasion to go drinking in Whiterun’s taverns, but to be granted an audience was a different matter. Kaius’s new title of nobility may have given them the opportunity to meet the Jarl of Morthal in person, but there was something truly unusual with the way that they had been immediately permitted a meeting.

  Whichever way, Sofia had been expecting many things when they pushed through the doors into the main hall of the longhouse, but the sight of what awaited them was not what she expected. The few times that she and Kaius had found themselves in Dragonsreach had impressed her each and every time. That keep’s interior was truly large enough to house an entire dragon in the main hall alone, and was more of a castle than a jarl’s home.

  Morthal’s longhouse was an entirely different matter. Little larger than the interior of the Moorside Tavern, the main hall was impressively large, but appeared much more… contained. Stone floors, reinforced walls for keeping the warmth in and the cold out, and a large hearth with a softly glowing fire flickering gently in the recessed hollow in the centre. There was no ornamentation. No enormous banners, trophies of Jarls long since passed, statues or any of the signs of wealth and power seen within the likes of Dragonsreach. Only a single stone throne at the far end of the hall, covered in comfortable cushioning and fabrics decorated the interior, which for the moment was empty.

  There was barely anyone within the hall, only a pair of figures standing near the hearth and against one of the walls who turned to face the arrivals with interest. One of them; a hulking brute in fur lined plate armour twitched and lifted himself away from the wall at the sight of the trio of armoured and armed figures entering his Jarl’s hall. Obviously as the personal bodyguard of the Jarl, both he, and Lydia were immediately sizing each other up like a pair of snow bears in a cave.

  The only other figure was hunched from the weight of the years she had lived, her clothing comfortable and of decent quality, but not what would normally be expected from someone in her position. Cloak and robes hung down over a body whose spine had been bent from the decades of ruling the Hold, but the authority she wore was unmistakable.

  "So... Life has brought the Dovahkiin to Morthal, and to me. What purpose this serves, we will no doubt see."

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  Even without turning or even looking at Kaius and the two women, the elderly Jarl’s voice practically cackled with amusement as she spoke the simple rhyme, ignoring the way her words made them pause in midstep.

  Unease was creeping into the three of them, and as glances were exchanged, Kaius and Sofia were able to see that even Lydia was unsettled at the way the Jarl had casually admitted to knowing who Kaius was. While he was increasingly known in Whiterun for being the slayer of the Dragon, and his apparent nature of being dragonborn, his identity was not spreading that quickly throughout the province. At least not to the state that he would be recognised by someone who hadn’t even seen his face yet.

  "Thane Kaius Desin of Whiterun, my Jarl." Aslfur said formally, presenting them with a wave of his hands. "And his companions."

  "Lydia Storm-Sword." Recovering quickly from the initial surprise, Lydia bowed her head in respect, thumping her fist against her breastplate in salute.

  "Sofia Mojaldottir."

  “A dragon, a wolf, and a songbird have come to my home. Seeking both legacy and fate.” Jarl Ravencrone’s gaze was warm, yet piercing, finally turning and looking at them and all three tried not to shiver as she seemed to somehow look through them. “Welcome to Morthal.”

  Despite the warmth and comfort of the Jarl’s longhouse, a chill accompanied the older woman’s words, and the amused smile she wore was welcoming, and terrifying in equal measures. For the first time, Sofia and Lydia looked at each other in mutual unease, even as Kaius stepped forward in a slight bow, his own emotions hidden from many years of practice.

  "Jarl Ravencrone," At the sound of Kaius's voice, she focussed her attention on him, and in the light of the fire they could see the way her eyes seemed to glow with more than just amusement. "We have been told that you are seeking someone to investigate a recent fire in the city."

  The years had taken their toll on her, and the gradual clouding of cataracts were evident as her eyes narrowed, nodding slightly to the man standing before her before turning and very carefully moving towards her throne.

  “Hroggar’s house fire.” Obviously feeling the twinges of ancient bones and the creeping sensation of arthritis in her joints, the elderly Jarl leaned back into the cushioning and fabrics, placing her immaculately carved walking stick against the armrest. "He lost his wife and daughter in the blaze."

  “That’s what we were told. We were also told that Morthal’s authorities investigated and believed it to be an accident, but that you were still seeking someone to confirm.”

  “Did the people of Morthal also tell you that the house is believed to be cursed? That the incident, whether it be an accident or otherwise, has stoked their superstitious fears?

  “Pardon any potential bluntness, Jarl Ravencrone. But I have travelled far enough to know that such superstitions are typically founded. Especially in a province with as many restless dead in locked barrows as Skyrim has.”

  “Indeed, the dead do not rest easily.” Eyes slowly losing the fight against age focussed on Kaius as the old woman settled into her chair, a smile on her face. “Especially those sent to aetherius in such a manner.”

  "What is the official story of what happened?"

  "Hroggar blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire.” A shrug, almost too small to be noticed, shifted the furs covering the Jarl's shoulders as hints of darkness entered her voice. Typically such a tone from an individual represented at the Elder Council never boded well. It was the kind of tone that could spell the end of a life with but a gesture. "Many folk think he set the fire himself."

  “Set the fire himself? Why would he do that to his own family?”

  “Lust… As you are aware, can manipulate men to do anything...” Amusement raised the wrinkled expression that had been sour with distaste, and the Jarl looked over Sofia with an all-knowing expression to the younger woman. "Including the unthinkable. The ashes were still warm and embers still smoldering, when Hroggar pledged himself to Alva."

  “Your own guard and the magistrate conducted an investigation, did they not? Surely if there was evidence of foul deeds they would have arrested him already?”

  "Hah. My guards wouldn't be able to find their own arses with two hands and a map." Jarl Ravencrone snorted, pausing for a moment as phlegm caught in the back of her throat from the snicker of amusement. "Those with passion and drive have long since left to join the Stormcloaks, and the rest of the brighter, more capable ones have been swept up by the Legions. Those who investigated saw only what they wanted to see, and only what they ‘could’ see. Strangers, people who have no connection to this Hold, or its people, are needed to see what others cannot. Afterall, it is not the eyes that reveal the true natures of this world, but the heart."

  "What would you have us do?"

  "Sift through the ashes that others are too fearful to touch. See what they tell you. Should you prove him guilty or innocent, I will reward you. Amply enough to allow you to continue your journey."

  "Your will, Jarl Ravencrone." Kaius said carefully, making a simple bow of respect and waiting for Sofia and Lydia to turn before he did the same.

  "You are quite lively for a dead man." There was a distinct tone of amusement running through the Jarl's voice, but the almost pneumonic chuckle of her age was almost as terrifying as what her words were. "I suppose that's what comes from being Dragonblood, rather than Dragonborn..."

  A bolt of lightning magicka would have had less of an effect on Kaius, than the Jarl’s words did. He stopped in mid bow, mouth falling open and even turning slightly grey before he reasserted himself and began to move. Bowing again, even deeper this time he turned and moved with an uncharacteristic, almost unseemly haste to the point where he left Sofia and Lydia behind, the elderly Jarl watching in amusement from her throne.