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4E 175, Month of Sunset (November), 17th day, Sandas.

City of Stone, a truly amazing city, this is not easy another Nords settlement built with stones, no. This is a city carved in the mountain, by people who have long disappeared from this world, but remained in the annals of history, their inventions and buildings still amaze and cause admiration.

The city was protected by a powerful wall and towers in front of it. To enter the city, you had to pass through the large golden gate, which opened up an even more amazing view. The buildings... they weren't here. All the rooms were located directly in the mountain. In the center of what used to be most likely a hill or something similar was a temple, and above it, a tower stood majestically, under all this were narrow streets, the central part of which was occupied by rivers.

The whole city was dotted with staircases and bridges between houses. Attentive searchers will immediately notice that there were many brothers-in-law in the rocks, but even more rectangular crevices, from which occasionally someone looked out. In the southern part of the city there was a mining cave, which is still poorly developed, but many experts predicted the success of the mine. A little higher up, to the southwest, was the blacksmith shop, which was now empty.

From various points down the slope, three rivers flowed directly into the city, which made the city even more mysterious and beautiful, such as you will not see anywhere else in all of Skyrim. The eastern part of the city is home to most of the residents. What was strange was that there was a little fog over the city, but apparently it didn't bother anyone, since life in the city was booming, not like in Solitude or Whiterun, but better than in most cities.

Various creatures could be seen on the streets. Argonians, Khajiit, Orcs, there were a lot of them, as well as the Nords, who seemed worried about something, but still led a measured lifestyle. In this crowd, people stood out very much, they were not wearing the usual clothes that most people wore, no, they were wearing the skins of dead animals and the main part were deer skins.

Richmen, they say that these people are the most real half-breeds even worse than the Bretons. Their ancestry includes not only the same Breton people, but also extends to many races of Tamriel. The High Elf bloodline is as strong as the Breton bloodline.

Since recently, Markart belongs to them and the one who runs the city is their king, Madanach. More than half of all Richmen follow him, as they consider him a wise and strong king. He has captured the city with almost no casualties on either side and is adapting his people to civilization.

In the main hall, Madanah sits on a throne, dressed in the traditional clothes of his people, skins and bones. Long, oak-colored hair and a thick mustache that reached to his chin, a rather large, well-built man in the prime of life, so you can describe the King-in-Rags. In front of him was his loyal subordinate, Morlina, who met with various groups of mercenaries for their subsequent recruitment and reported to her king:

"...there was another group, the last one…

"Speak, Morlina, I'm listening carefully."

"The mercenaries who call themselves Hevnorak, they are the best option of all. The leader of the group, apparently, is a man in a mask, but among them there is a certain ... equality. When I first saw them, I didn't find anything special, ordinary mercenaries consisting of different races, nothing more, but as we talked, I became more and more convinced that they were one of the best in their field.

The woman fell silent as her king pondered something.

"And what did they suggest?"

Taking a deep breath the woman answered:

"They said they would protect us from Ulfric and help us with food, but they want a percentage of our mine and a place in the city to set up their headquarters here.

There was silence in the hall, for a long 10 minutes for Morlina, when she heard Madanah's voice again.:

- Warranty? Where is the guarantee that they will fulfill their ... fairy tales?

-No, although, I will assume that they will cherish their merits, yet they are not simple mercenaries and have completed all their tasks and from our dialogue, I realized that they do not take on lost causes.

"If we can fend off the Nords and negotiate with the empire, if we accept their offer of course, then their justification in the city will help us, but if they lose, they will lose everything. Mmm ... call them to a meeting, we'll decide there!

…

4E 175, Month of Sunset (November), 19th day, Midas.

In a small cave that was located in the mountains on the border between the Domains of Falkrit and Whiterun, a group of mercenaries consisting of a diverse contingent of races sat at a long rectangular wooden table. Orcs, Imperials, high elves, and even Nords were all sitting at the same table, talking furiously but peacefully, until Dunmer, who was sitting at one end of the table, spoke up, drawing attention to himself:

"The Richmen want to meet us… What do you think? the noise filled the damp walls of the cave again, until Mufalt stood up first.:

"My blood-kin and I agree to go to Markart. As everyone here knows, the Richmen and I work closely with the residents of the reach, so there are a large number of Orcs in the city and they are from nearby fortresses, in one of them my sister, Bula, and some blood relatives who are ready to help her, are now in that city. If this is a trap, then we'll have somewhere to look for help.

The bulky orc finished his speech as the refined and beautiful Nemesis expressed her opinion:

"The Richmen are a savage and uncultured people, ignorant of and unaware of civilized society. They are too stupid and that's why I think it's a trap! Some members of the Hevnorak waited with interest for her to continue: "They planned to use us as cannon fodder, and if anyone survived, they would get nothing but ruin their future in Skyrim. Therefore, we must not trust them until we have the support of the Empire, which can act as a third party between us. They call us to capture and use us, as we have no one to avenge us now, but if we are supported by the Empire they fear so much, then they will refuse to play games with us. there was a buzz among the mercenaries as they began to discuss this scenario.

Linoveta slowly got up from the table and looked at everyone with a steady, iron gaze.:

"We believe that our team and Mufalt's team should go together, and we should also be joined by some of the high elves. Nords should not go in any case! And... I think they should be removed from this assignment.…

Despite the expectations of many, Hrankorn and the rest of the Nords reacted ... calmly:

-We ourselves wanted to offer this arrangement, if we appear, it will only heat up relations with the customer, and we do not need this. Nor will we help Ulfric and his pack. It was our turn to refuse the task.

"It looks like our friends, the Nords, are really growing up. Isn't that wonderful? Hahaahaha. A soft laugh rolled through the cavern and stopped as quickly as it had begun. Finally Arkon himself spoke out:

"Then the team of Linoveta, Mufalt, and some of the Aldmeri will go to meet the Richmen. Who will go and in what quantity is up to you.

The meeting continued…

…

4E 175, Month of Sunset (November), 25th day, Fredas.

Windhelm is an ancient city in the northeast of Skyrim, one of the first human settlements in all of Tamriel, the city of Ysgramor built of stone and wood. The snowiest city of all. Now in the Hearth and Candle tavern, in one of the rented rooms, two young Nords were sitting.

One of them was young Ulfric, the son of the Jarl known as the Bear of Eastmark. A blue-eyed blond with some facial hair, two pigtails that were tucked behind his ears, thick eyebrows, well-defined cheekbones and a large nose. His features were like those of most Nords. There was a jagged scar on his left cheek that started at the corner of the cube and ran to the left corner of his eye.

Beside him sat Wulfigar – one of his living friends. Wulfigar and Ulfric have known each other since childhood and fought together, but closer to the capture of the second, Wulfigar was sent back to Skyrim due to a fatal wound. At that time, everyone thought that he would die on the way, even though the healers patched him up, but even they talked about his imminent demise. Despite the will of fate and predictions, he survived and recovered. Wulfigar is a typical Nord, both externally and internally. Blonde hair, gray eyes, and facial hair.

The two friends kept their voices as low as possible, as if they were afraid of anyone who might overhear their conversation, although no one in Windhelm would cross the jarl's son, but Ulfric could not trust anyone. After drinking a glass of ale, Wulfigar spoke:

"Those damn Richmen! They found out about our plans and now they are looking for help from the mercenaries and I learned that they have requested help from the group of mercenaries "Khevnorak". Ulfric... if they agree, we'll be in trouble, and I wouldn't be surprised if our whole plan goes down the drain!

"Wulfigar, you overestimate the mercenaries. They…

"No!" … Listen, Ulfric. You've met them and they've even done a task for you, so what impression did they leave?

"The assignment came from my father, but I was the one who was supposed to introduce them to him, but you're right about one thing. They're really not an ordinary mercenary group, more like a guild ,but you don't think they're capable of standing up to us Nords!

Shaking his head, Wulfigar tried to explain to his friend:

"Ulfric, look at the big picture, as the Imperials taught us. The Hevnorak have a lot of influence, of course it's nothing compared to our own, but they have connections and money. Most of the Heavnorak mercenaries are professional soldiers and mages, if they join forces with the Richmen, then we will no longer be facing ordinary savages behind stone walls, without tactics, training, and the like. No! Well-equipped and well-trained soldiers will come up against us, and there will be countless casualties. We are not ready for such actions, let's postpone our plan for at least five years.

"Wulfigar!" a low growl descended into the room. "In a couple of months, the mercenary group won't be able to do anything, and if necessary, the entire power of Skyrim will descend on Markart, once the other jarls and Nords hear my call!" This conversation is over.