The Nords of Skyrim loathe magic and hold Restoration Magic in particular contempt.
But now, this Imperial soldier born in Skyrim might have ended up bleeding to death if not for Sio’s healing.
As for Hadvar, a junior officer in the Imperial Legion, he…
happened to be of the more “open-minded” sort.
“Thank you, Breton girl.
And…” Hadvar thanked Sio for her assistance but got stuck when it came to addressing Kaye.
When that girl cast her spells, her originally fair skin would glow with a faint blue light, a distinct Breton trait.
But Kaye…
he showed no discernible features at all!
It was hard to tell.
“Just call me Kaye.” Kaye took the opportunity to introduce himself.
After all, even he knew nothing about his own race.
“Then thanks to you as well, Kaye.” Having received treatment, Hadvar tried to stand up.
Even though his wounds still throbbed with pain, his condition had stabilized.
Being able to walk and run meant he could continue to fulfill his duties.
“Helgen is too dangerous; we can’t stay here.
We need to head to Riverwood.
My uncle Alvor is well-respected in town.
Even if Whiterun is staying neutral in the civil war, we have to get the word out…” “So what was the Imperial Legion doing in Helgen?
I’m curious.” Sio crossed her arms, pressing him with curiosity—she didn’t want to waste such a good opportunity!
“Kaye and I came here to help pick up some goods, and then we ran into that…
dragon?
When it flew away…” Sio’s question was perfectly timed, and besides, she and Kaye were Hadvar’s saviors.
By all rights, he wouldn’t keep secrets from them.
And so, from Hadvar’s mouth, the two learned about the Imperial Legion’s operations in Helgen.
From escorting Ulfric to Helgen for execution to the attack by the black dragon, they now understood everything that had happened in between!
“If you could have cut down Ulfric here, would the civil war have ended?” Before they set off, Sio deliberately walked up beside Hadvar and asked half-jokingly.
“A decapitation strike, right?
I saw plenty of assassination cases in the courts of High Rock!” “No.” Hadvar shook his head with a bitter smile.
“The civil war…
it doesn’t rest on one man.
Even if we killed him here, it would only cause his supporters to launch an even greater counterattack.” After that, Sio stopped asking questions and stood obediently by Kaye’s side, intending to follow Hadvar out.
During their small talk on the road, Hadvar, like many travelers they had met before, subconsciously assumed they were a couple.
“…Still a little ways off for now.” In the past, Sio would have surely turned red and talked about something else.
But this time, she only whispered a few words to herself.
Perhaps this was also a sign of their relationship warming up?
On the journey to Riverwood, they encountered three of the thirteen Standing Stones scattered across Skyrim: the Guardian Stones.
It was said that these ancient ruins would bestow blessings and power upon those who offered prayers.
The choice was obvious.
Sio, believing magic to be more elegant and beautiful and wishing to explore the path of a spellcaster, naturally chose the Mage Stone; while Kaye, a professional warrior, preferred the Warrior Stone, hoping this Nord ruin would enhance his strength to better protect those important to him.
Hadvar naturally gave high praise to the choices of his two saviors!
Even Sio, who chose the path of the mage, received a compliment!
This was a testament to his cultural refinement…
As the three approached the entrance to Riverwood and could already see the Chicken God wandering the town, a few panicked shouts of an argument reached their ears.
“It’s a dragon!
Definitely a dragon!
Big as a mountain, black as night, it flew right over the barrow!” “Oh, mother, where is there a dragon?
You’re always like this; everyone thinks you’ve gone mad…” A Nord mother and son seemed to be arguing over whether the dragon existed.
The panicked old woman insisted she had really seen a dragon, but her son, who had his hair combed slick and smooth, didn’t believe her and pulled his mother toward their home.
“It’s Sven and his mother Hilde.
He was just a young boy when I left…
It looks like word will spread through town soon.
Let’s go this way.” Hadvar took a glance and then led the two toward the left side of Riverwood.
…
As a town under the jurisdiction of Whiterun, Riverwood produced large quantities of timber and steel, holding significant commercial importance.
The town’s affairs were jointly discussed and managed by the three families that controlled the forestry, blacksmithing, and commercial industries.
But today, Riverwood’s famous blacksmith, Alvor, felt somewhat uneasy.
He assigned the day’s work to his apprentices and stood at the entrance of his workshop, gazing into the distance.
That slightly crazed old woman, Hilde—her nonsense…
might not be without merit.
As a prominent figure in town, he knew a bit about official movements.
For instance, the troop movements of the Imperial Legion and the undercurrents behind the civil war…
If the dragons of legend truly reappeared, then…
“Uncle Alvor!” Though they had been apart for a long time, he could still recognize that voice.
“Hadvar!
By Ysmir, what are you doing back?
Did the Legion give you leave?” The sudden appearance of his nephew, whom he hadn’t seen in years, truly gave Alvor a start.
The middle-aged blacksmith’s heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw his nephew covered in wounds.
Just what kind of battle had he been through to end up like this?
If he hadn’t been treated in time, his soul would likely have returned to Sovngarde!
He stepped forward quickly, but then he noticed two more people behind Hadvar.
One appeared to be a young man with a red tattoo on the right side of his face.
He was a tall, handsome, and elegant youth, yet it was difficult to tell his race.
The other was an even younger girl, perhaps only a few years older than his daughter, Dorthe.
She had a lovely face and was dressed exquisitely.
Her white hair swayed in the wind, making her face look even more charming and cute.
But what caught Alvor’s attention more was the rapier hanging at her waist—it bore the mark of the master smith, Eorlund Gray-Mane.
With a blacksmith’s eye, he recognized the skyforge steel weapon at a glance.
Combined with the greatsword on the young man’s back, these two must possess extraordinary strength.
Perhaps Hadvar’s narrow escape was thanks to their assistance.
“And these two behind you are…?” “My saviors!” Hadvar replied briefly.
“Let’s go inside and talk, Uncle!”