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Six days after we took the caravan, I was woken up by Rokir. The elf kicked me in the back and I jerked awake, reflexively swinging a knife that I took from my bedroll. The elf slapped my hand away and, as I saw it was him, said,

"Get up," with his usual lazy tone, "Brekish wants to talk."

"Gah," I snarled at the elf but pulled myself up, pulling on my boots and pants that were nearby. "He just want me?" I grumbled.

"All of us," Rokir muttered.

"Eh," I grunted as I pulled on a set of heavy dark brown robes, then my usual chain mail armor. Over the mail I pulled on a lighter brown vest, and slung both my bandoliers over my shoulders. Grabbing a second belt and pulling that over my waist, I left the cliff-side tower and followed Rokir over the bridge. Overhead the sky was grey, and a light snowfall was just starting to drift from the sky. I pulled up the hood that was on my robes, and rubbed my face. The wound that I'd obtained from the knife-weilding caravan rider nine days ago had already healed, and now a long pink and white scar ran from my forehead to my cheekbone.

Across the bridge Rokir and I meet Brekish in the road-side tower, along with Salin and Raylus. The orc leaned against the far wall that lead to the stairs, and the redguard and other dark elf were nearby on the left wall. Rokir and I came inside the tower, and Brekish nodded to us. The orc left the wall now, and in the center of the tower I saw the chest that he kept all of the gold and gems from caravan raids and road-side robberies. Brekish put his foot on the chest and leaned on his leg now, looking at all of us.

"Been doing this a while now, huh?" the orc addressed us. He looked at all of us, then tapped the wooden chest with his foot. "And this here is pretty good proof that were good at what we do. If that can be said for outlaws like us."

"We've got a good place here," said Raylus.

"Aye that we do," Salin said.

"We do, that's true," Brekish nodded now, and pulled at his beard. He looked at us again, "And I hate to say that, then say that I'm getting late into my fiftieth winter in Skyrim."

"So what are you saying?" Rokir asked.

"What I'm saying," Brekish glanced at the wood elf, "Is that nobody can do this forever. Maybe some of those vagabonds can, if they keep picking up good young runaways and cut-throats to do all o their dirty work for them. But not me."

"So are you giving up?" Salin asked.

Brekish laughed now, a rough sound that echoed dully in the wide room. "Smart man that one," the orc nodded to Salin. "Yes lads, I'm giving up."

"After all this time?" Rokir asked.

"Let me get to the point here," said Brekish. "That bounty those Imperials bastards brought by the other day was hefty, I assure you," Brekish paused, then smirked as he gave another low laugh. "A whopping three thousand septims to the lucky man who brings the Jarl of Whiterun my head."

"Three thousand?" Raylus breathed the words, and Brekish nodded.

"That's only a bit of what's in this chest here though," Brekish tapped the wood with his foot again. "So I figured instead of having to die for what I believe in, which is freedom to do what I like, I decided it would be better to turn over a portion of this gold here and take the jail time the Jarl would give me."

"Why now?" asked Rokir. "You've had threats and bounties on your head before, and soldiers and collectors aplenty have been breaking down these tower doors here for almost ten years."

"Because if I keep up like I am," Brekish glanced at the elf, "Then I'll end up dead anyways. If I go about it this way and pay off my own bounty, at least I'll have to time write out my life story before they execute me. It's either that or a life in jail."

"So your going to throw all this away, like rotten food in a run-down tavern?" Rokir asked.

"Not throwing it away," Brekish looked at the elf now, and took his foot off of the chest, "Look here lads," he pulled the top of the chest up, and now we all leaned forward. Inside the chest was a pile of loose gold, and four other bags. "I've already got all this loot split up between the four of you bastards," said Brekish with a smile, "And the rest of the loose gold is the pay I'm handing the Jarl so I can hold onto a few more days of my life."

We were all quiet for a moment while we looked at the bags in the chest. Brekish looked at the four of us in return, then asked,

"So what'll it be?"

There was more silence, until Rokir broke it by saying,

"What happens to this here," he gestured to the room that we stood in, "After we leave Whiterun and you go to jail? Then what'll we do?"

"Whatever you like," said the orc. "Pay off your own bounties, leave the country or the Hold. Just don't end up getting killed when you leave the city is all I'll say."

Another small spell of silence drifted over us all, and we only starred at the chest with the coin in the separate bags. But this time it was Raylus who broke the silence by coming forward from his spot in the wall, and the dark elf picked a bag from the chest.

Rokir came forward next and claimed a bag, then Salin followed close behind him. Now one bag was left in the chest, and I starred at it.

But a second later I came forward and pulled it from the chest, and Brekish smiled. He snapped the lid of the chest shut, then picked it up, hefting it over one of his shoulders. The orc gave a grunt, then looked at all of us once before saying,

"Come on then boys," he said with his even voice, "Let's get on."

* * *

It was snowing by the time we reached Whiterun, and were stopped at the gates by the guards. They let us through after Brekish annouced he was turning himself in to the Jarl, and the gate guards followed us into the city as we walked to the Jarl's keep.

Through the town the inhabitants stared at us, but they had reason to. We had been staying in the towers for nearly ten years now, robbing caravans and accosting nobles as they came down the road. We wore ragged looking clothes and our armor was worn, as were our weapons. We walked with a distrusting pace, and even I was looking around at the guards posted throughout the city as if they would run at us with swords drawn any second.

Through the housing district of Whiterun, Brekish and the rest of our gang mounted the steps to Dragonsreach, the Jarl's longhouse. Up the steps we walked a short bridge to the longhouses front doors, and two guards pushed them open in front of us. Brekish went through first, and I followed behind him. Raylus and Rokir came next, and Salin brought up the rear with the gate guards behind us.

Inside it was both cool and warm at the same time, and braziers of fire burned on either side of the entryway. We went up another set of steps, and then ahead of us we saw the Jarl. Vignar Grey-mane, who had been a long time supporter of the Stormcloak soldiers, sat upon the throne, leaning back as the flames of a wide fire pit threw shadows over his face.

Up the stairs a few more guards came forward, and two more guards came up behind as the five of us stepped up to the sides of the fire pit.

The Jarl leaned up on his throne, putting a hand to the wide grey mustache on his lip. "Who might you be?" he asked in a low voice. His wrinkled face was dark and tanned, and his iron grey hair fell over his shoulders.

"My name," Brekish came up to the end of the fire pit, and a guard stopped him. "Is Brekish Mal-Gor," the orc said. He set the chest on the floor now, and pushed it forward with a foot. The Jarl looked at him with his tanned face, then asked,

"You killed the party that came to the towers the previous week, didn't you?" asked the Jarl.

"We did," the orc nodded, and folded his arms over his chest, "But I'm assuming that you understand why I'm coming all the way up here, and putting this chest in front of you. Or are you nords only good at figuring at what kind of a blade can kill bandits with the best efficiency?"

Now the Jarl scowled at Brekish, and moved his hand in the air. The guards drew their swords now, and the uniforms in front of us stepped forward. The gang and I drew our own swords, and I turned to look at the guards behind us.

"Come on now," I heard Brekish growl at the Jarl, and he drew his own sword, "I'm offering you my own reward for the rest of my life in jail, and you'd kill us because I insulted you?"

Now the Jarl smirked. The guards drew a bit closer to us, and the rest of us all came closer together. "No," said the Jarl, "I'll just see which one of you is the strongest."

The Jarl made another gesture with his hand, and the guards all came forward. The swung at us with their swords, and I engaged the guard that was nearest to me. The clash of swords began to ring out through the hall, and I pushed my current enemy down the stairs, making him fall with a gash over his chest.

But more guards were spilling out of the doors and upper rooms of the Jarl's longhouse, and I swung at one who came at my from the left side. I fought him down the stairs and he fell, and as I threw I glance up the stairs I saw the rest of the gang fighting off their own guards. Another guard came at me I parried his swing, kicking his leg aside then slashing him down with a swing to the face. He fell but three more guards replaced him, and I snarled as one guard landed a slash on my left leg.

It was a lost fight though. I realized that as soon as the Jarl and called for his men and they advanced. The Jarl's guards fell one by one, but for every one that fell two more seemed to take their place. Through the guards I fought, I saw Rokir stumbled back as he parried a blow from a guard. Another guard behind the elf ran him through not a second later, and I snarled again. I realized now that I was more than attached to this gang, who'd been like a second family to me. They'd been with me through the years, ever since I had come to Skyrim from Solstheim. They had been rough with me but I was rough in return, and we had all put our lives on the line for each other.

Salin went down next as a guard cut his leg and the redguard stepped back. He blocked a heavy swing from a guard with a battle axe, but the redguard took a swing across his chest and he fell. I ducked a swing from one guard and slashed his face, and cried out as I took another strike, this time on my upper right shoulder. I had somehow managed to hang onto the bag of gold on my back through the fight, but now that wasn't one of my concerns. Now my only concern was wether I would die here.

I didn't see Raylus die, but I heard the elf cry out, then I heard his body drag a platter onto the floor as he fell. I was able to move back up the stairs now, and I heard Brekish howl at a guard, the orc fighting with both of his curved blades. He swung and smashed at the guards that attacked him, and through the falling guards and the wounds we picked up, he caught my eye. Then he flashed me a grin before I blocked a swing from a guard, and kicked him down the stairs after running him through.

After Brekish flashed me that smile, he died. A guard pulled one of his blades up high, and the orc dropped the weapon and brought his other blade down to guard as a second guard swing for his chest. But the orcs blade came a fraction of a second to late, then the guards blade ran him through. I saw the steel punch through the orcs body, and as the orc let his second blade fall, time seemed to slow down. I moved slower as I tore my gaze away from Brekish, who was falling slowly thorough the air as the guard pulled out his sword, and I saw the fist coming at me through the air.

Time resumed at its full pace as the fist drove into my face, sending me sprawling to the ground. A second later a blade cut my right side hard, and the pain flew through my body. I hit the ground hard, coughing out blood, and my vision wavered. The world was black for a second, then it came back with enough time for me to see Brekish. The orc laid on the ground, his body bleeding and broken, and then my visioned darkened. After that was silence, and the darkness seemed to swirl around me. It was here I though, surely, death was coming to stand by my side before sending my soul to the void.