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Behind the Scenes
"You said you know what's wrong?" Lydia asks, scowling at Galmar as he keeps her from following her Thane.
"Yes." Rubbing his sword pommel, he grimaces at Ondii when she approaches with a frown. "If you could walk the rest of the way to my office with that, I'm going to need it. The Dragonborn has been... called away." He looks at Lydia. "Find Ralof, Lisda and Thunon. I want all of you in my office. I need to see to a horse."
Striding away, he gestures for a Stormcloak to fall in with him as he walks. "Find me someone who can manage the Dragonborn's horse."
"Yes Sir." He responds, bolting away.
When he's almost at the stable, he gestures toward another city guard. "Find me a tracker. Find Brynjolf of Riften. He's on his way there most likely. Tell him Galmar Stone-Fist would like a word." Or three. He thinks crossly.
He almost laughs when Hashire nuzzles him. "Right mess this. Got lax." He mutters, saddling the horse. "Your mistress is too important to us not to take pains that she does not suffer loss. Figure current lover is a thief. Not a problem. Thieves are good at dodging death." Cursing under his breath, he leads the horse out of the stable, nodding at the slight woman standing near the bridge.
"Scout Kjari Ghost-Wind reporting Sir.”
He nods in response, passing her the reins. "You need to bring this horse to the Dragonborn. She is heading first to Winterhold, then Hjaalmarch. Might have the best luck meeting up with her in Hjaalmarch."
"Understood, Sir." She agrees, reaching her hand out for the horse to sniff. "You've met me already Hashire. Let's go find your mistress." She murmurs, slinging a pack onto his back and jumping up.
"Get moving." He orders, “Take no serious risks but do not be afraid to take small actions should the opportunity arise.”
"Yes sir. I'll meet Rheanna in Hjaalmarch and see what I can do to make a nuisance of myself on the way."
"Talos guide you." He says, watching her ride off, moving swiftly toward his office to deal with Ralof and the others. Rheanna's too grief stricken to pay attention. Last thing we need is a bandit nest taking aim at her.
"Is Rheanna alright?" Lisda asks as soon as he enters the office, the saboteur worrying at her armor straps.
"She is distraught." He responds, moving to sit at his desk.
"Did something happen to Bishop?" Ralof asks, all four Nords crowding around his desk.
"Yes. I don't know what exactly happened yet but she's on her way to Snow Veil Sanctum." Tapping the location on the map on his desk, he looks between them. "Lydia. You are not a Stormcloak but..."
"I am sworn to my Lady's service." She responds, nodding sharply. "I will do what must be done."
"Good. I thought as much. Follow her. Do not interfere. I am hoping that doing this on foot will help her take the edge off her grief. I do not know what she will find in Snow Veil Sanctum but whatever it is will hopefully bring her closure."
"We'll keep her safe." Thunon promises, worrying at the hilt of his hunting knife. "Should we reveal ourselves?"
"Only if she proves a great danger to herself." He responds. "She took the escape tunnel. Her orders are to go to Hjaalmarch after the ruin. To try and intercept intelligence from a messenger or the Legate in Morthal. If you must, remind her of that. If she asks, Hashire is on his way to Hjaalmarch."
"Yes Sir."
"We'll find her Sir." Ralof promises. "What do you want us to do after?"
"Go to Hjaalmarch. See what use Frozen-Heart can make of you. Lydia, follow your conscience."
Watching them leave, he starts organizing his desk for a visit from a thief. Let’s see what I can make of this meeting.
Hours later, the broth Ondii had left on his desk long cold, Galmar lifts his head when he hears a hesitant knock.
"Enter!" He calls, setting his current paperwork to the side.
A palace guard enters, jerking his head toward the ginger haired man following him. "Brynjolf of Riften, as you requested Sir."
"Thank you. You are dismissed."
"What could Galmar Stone-Fist have to talk to me... a lowly Riften shop keeper about?" Brynjolf asks, standing respectfully a few paces from the desk.
Galmar studies him for a long moment, fingertips pushed together. "My sources tell me that the Thieves Guild is neutral in the Civil War. Would you like to explain how true that is?" Your actions could easily be seen as sabotage and I need to know if that was accidental.
"The Thieves Guild? Way I’ve heard it, as long as the Guild can make money, it doesn't matter who's in charge. But why ask..." He trails off when Galmar scowls. "That's the way of it then? Alright. What seems to be the problem?"
With a low growl, Galmar shoves back from the desk, leaning forward on it, glaring at the other man. "What seems to be the problem is you have single-handedly..." He sighs heavily, sitting back down. "What happened to Bishop?"
Understanding crosses the thief's face and he wanders over to a bookcase, smirking when Galmar narrows his eyes. "I won't touch." He promises. "I don't suppose you're familiar with Mercer Frey? Knowing everything as you do."
"He's a hard man to get a lock on." He responds. "Why?"
"I assume the Dragonborn told you Bishop was heading to Snow Veil Sanctum?"
"Yes."
"I’ll be honest with you. See no reason not to be and the Dragonborn helped one of mine. He went there on Mercer's orders. And Mercer went with him." He sighs, leaning against the wall, face troubled. "Bishop didn't come back. I went to Snow Veil myself. Didn't find much. But there was too familiar armor at the bottom of a hole. No sign of his wolf either. And it was obvious he hadn't tied his horse as even she was gone."
Galmar shifts in his chair, mind working rapidly. "Say that again."
"Which part?"
"That horse of his. She's Imperial cavalry trained. And she wasn't anywhere near the ruin?"
The thief frowns, turning completely to face him. "No. There were no remains either. No gear."
"So, unless someone stole her..." He leans back, letting the thief connect the dots.
"I'll send word through my network." Brynjolf responds. "If there's a chance that Bishop is alive, then..." He shakes his head. "Even with your network. I'm not certain you understand what that could mean for my organization. The implications are many and most are sobering."
"Then it's in both of our interest to find out. I've sent the Dragonborn away from Windhelm for now. She believes Bishop to be dead. Until we know for certain, one way or another, that will have to remain the case." No matter how much it might hurt her in the end. I dare not give her false hope.
Brynjolf nods thoughtfully. "I saw what she did at the Orphanage, and I heard what she did at the Embassy. I understand."
"I will not tell you where she is or where she's going. But..." He smiles. "Perhaps we could come to an arrangement." Reaching into his desk drawer he pulls out a pouch, tossing it to the thief. "A lucrative arrangement."
Weighing it in his hand, he nods slowly. "I'm listening."
"I want to know everyone who asks about Bishop or Rheanna. My network has other considerations on their mind. But we both know what the Dragonborn means to Skyrim. And we both know what this Ranger means to her. A less honest individual could attempt to sway her to their cause if they claim to have sighted Bishop." I am not above buying your loyalty. And now you know it.
"She's that naive?" Brynjolf asks, moving closer to the desk.
"Anyone can be swayed by something they truly want to believe." Galmar responds, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Fair enough." He shrugs. "Considering the things you could have wanted to see me for. I'll call this a win."
Chuckling, the Stormcloak nods toward the door. "I look forward to hearing from you again."
"The feeling's mutual." The thief agrees, ducking out of the room.
"If Bishop is alive and Rheanna were to find out that someone had kept him from her..." Galmar leans back, crossing his arms. "I doubt there'd be enough left of them to scrape into a bucket."
"You coddle the girl." Ulfric says, stepping out from behind a tapestry.
"Maybe."
Sighing, Ulfric moves to the desk, perching on the edge. "What do you gain from treating her the way you do?"
Studying his partner, Galmar considers it, thinking back to how worried he'd been to see her so devastated. "A daughter."
"I wondered." He responds, rising and pacing. "Don't get too attached Galmar. She still needs to face Alduin. And I have reservations about her suitability as an heir. She will never be comfortable with backbiting nobles. Not even Nord nobles. We must also remember that her parentage and familial ties are... unconventional."
"Her family could very well give us an edge to combating some of the uglier rumors that have taken root about us. That have taken root about you, Ulfric. As to Rheanna's suitability as an heir. You have a point. But then let her wed quietly away from Windhelm. Name her child heir. Children are more easily taught how to act around nobles. And I dare any true noble of Skyrim to decry the Dragonborn’s bloodline as a suitable heir."
Ulfric sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, perching on the desk again. "I'm pleased you believe I'll live long enough for an as yet nonexistent child to be my heir."
With a rumbling laugh, Galmar rises, reaching out to tug on a bit of Ulfric's hair. "I'll make certain of it. You wonder why I 'coddled' Rheanna in her moment of grief? Because I understand Ulfric. Were something to happen to you, I would find myself in that same damn position."
"Your argument is compelling. But there is nothing to gain from worrying over it right now. You've folded the Thieves Guild neatly into your network. Now we wait."
"Yes." He agrees, frowning. "Is that your way of saying I need sleep?" He asks, folding his arms and staring at him.
His expression softening, Ulfric nods, rising from the desk and moving back to the tapestry. "Come to bed Stone-Fist. Exhausting yourself will help no one."