"You didn't have to travel with us back to Windhelm," I said as the eight of us made the trek down the path toward the city. "Farkas and I could've managed on our own."

We'd spent another day at the farm, showing our niece and nephews some swordplay basics, cleaning up the carnage around the homestead, and assuring our sister and her wife that bandits wouldn't come back so soon. We'd left some grim warnings around their farm: weapons and blood-soaked armor mounted beside the road as a challenge for any marauders to take their lives into their own hands if they wanted to raid the settlement.

"We needed to run into the city for trading anyway," said Rosie, adjusting the pack she carried across her shoulders. "I have some tapestries that were commissioned by some of the citizens there, and it's time to collect."

"We can only grow so much on our farm," added Hroar. "And I want to see if Niranye has any swords for sale!"

"Hold on a moment, young man," said Dani. "We only agreed to get you weapons to use as a last resort. We're not getting you weapons so you can hack and slash at one another."

"But how will we practice?" asked Francois.

"The barracks may have some training dummies you can have," said Farkas. "Guards and soldiers usually retire their training dummies before they're completely ruined, and if you train with staves instead of swords, you should be able to keep them in good shape."

"Well, better shape," added Rosie. "How would we go about asking the guards for these training dummies?"

"Just ask," I said. "Most of the time, the used dummies get burned to make room for new ones, so they'd probably be happy to be rid of them."

"We want a chance to prove ourselves so we can be Companions one day," said Samuel.

"There's plenty of time for that," hissed Dani, frowning slightly. "You're far too young for any sort of adventure like that."

"And don't be in a hurry to grow up," I added with a chuckle while the children rolled their eyes and groaned. "Trust me, being old is not all that great."

As the others settled back into comfortable silence, Farkas stepped closer to me. "You know, we're not that old," he said under his breath.

"Maybe not," I replied, "but we're not much younger than Jergen was when he was killed. He seemed old to us when we were young, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but everyone did back then. That's just part of being a whelp. You think everyone is so old until you grow up."

He had a point, but that didn't stop me from brooding about it. The life of the Companions was one without guarantees. We had lost Skjor and Kodlak within a short span. Before then, Jergen died suddenly. Others had been killed in the heat of battle, felled by deadly, premature sicknesses, or slipped away due to some unseen menace within their bodies. In my three decades living under Jorrvaskr's roof, I had never seen one of my Shield Siblings die from true old age. I had thought Kodlak would be the first, but then the Silver Hand got to him before I could save him.

Though I was far from old, after living a life surrounded by those who had been cut down before their time in this world was done, I supposed that I didn't expect to make it this far. I was grateful, though. Living this long had allowed me to become a father to soon-to-be-three children. At the end of it all, that was my greatest blessing. Being the Master at Arms and a member of the Circle paled in comparison to the joy of raising my children.

Though, I couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to have a break from them. I loved Jergen and Embla, but they nearly drove me mad while their mother was off fighting a war. It was her turn to deal with them for a little while as I completed a quest of my own.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, we came within sight of the city. Strange how we had been there just days ago, so close to our childhood home without realizing. Stranger still was the knowledge that Farkas and I had been living in our cabin in the woods when Ylva was born, not too far away. Worlds apart in our destinies, and somehow, she and I found each other.

I wondered if my mother had once been a customer of Ylva's parents. My wife told me, when nostalgia took its hold over her after one too many drinks, that her parents had been some of the Hold's most profitable farmers. While they may have had little money to spare, Tolvar and Aldia knew how to make better than a meager living by growing their crops. It certainly took some skill to know how to grow vegetables in a climate as cold and dry as this one, but some people had a knack for the impossible.

Coming into the city, the guards would pause in conversation and turn to watch us. Most of the men and women patrolling the street leading into Windhelm wore the standard helms that obscured their faces, but a select few donned helms with open fronts, giving Farkas and I a good view of their awed expressions.

It seemed that word of our killing of the so-called Butcher had passed around rather quickly.

"You did this city a great service by catching that killer," said one man with a closed helmet. He stood at the gates, and with the help of another guard, he began to open the city's doors for us. "Well done."

"Killer?" asked Dani as the eight of us marched through. "What have you two been up to since leaving home?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle," said Farkas, grin quirking on his face. "Meet me back at the inn, Vilkas?"

I nodded.

After we entered the city, we went our separate ways. Dani, Rosie, and the children made their way towards the marketplace and the cacophony of voices shouting about their wares. Farkas headed towards the gate leading back out of the city and to the docks so he could secure passage for us to Solstheim. Finally, I marched straight ahead past the inn, on my way to speak to Ulfric about the possibility of increasing guard patrols further into the Hold.

When I entered the Palace of the Kings, the usual inhabitants milled about the main hall. While the table in the center of the room was barren save for the long crimson runner, activity around the setting was lively. Guards spoke to one another in small groups, servants worked to clean up the rugs and straighten the tapestries, and Ulfric shouted at Jorleif from across the room.

"My Jarl," said Jorleif at a reasonable tone, "it's going to take time for people to feel safe again–"

"All of this Butcher talk is still running through the city like a disease!" yelled Stormclack, slamming his hand onto the arm of his throne. "It's gotten worse! Even my guards are gossiping as we speak."

"That may be my fault," I said over the din. All conversation stopped, and it became so quiet that my armored footfalls echoed off the cold, stony walls. "My brother and I have returned to the city on short business, and the guards had begun to whisper about the Butcher when they saw us. I apologize for restarting the rumor mill."

"It's not ideal," said Ulfric as he relaxed into his seat, voice returning to normal volume, "but it will pass. I am merely frustrated that the people within the walls are walking around in fear because the shadow of the Butcher is stretching farther than the little man Calixto could ever have hoped to cast in life. That blasted gossip, Viola Giordano, is now telling anyone who will listen that Hjerim is haunted, which is only making the Shatter-Shield family's life harder."

I nodded. "Right. Their daughter lived in Hjerim."

"Yes. So there is quite a bit of unrest, but as I said, it will pass."

"Is there anything you need, Companion?" asked Jorleif, face tight, tentatively approaching the throne.

"I only want to make a small request, if I may."

Ulfric nodded.

"I have family near Nightgate Inn, and while we were staying there, they were attacked by bandits. My sister mentioned that they have seen a handful of attacks over the years, but the most recent one was the largest group that had shown up. She believes that the war being over will lead to more frequent attacks. She has four children and no formal training to defend herself and her family. Would there be a way to bolster patrols out there? Even just a handful of guards moving up and down the roads would be enough to deter bandits."

"We have plenty of men," said Jorleif. "Many of whom would like something more to do than move between the guards' quarters and this hall."

"We can spare two guards per patrol," added Ulfric, "and they will watch the roads. Your sister and her family are not the only ones who need protection out there."

I shook my head before pressing my right forearm to my chest. "I thank you, Jarl Ulfric, as will my sister and her family."

The Jarl adjusted himself in his seat, nodding my way. "Are you leaving so soon?"

"I'm afraid so. My brother is busy securing passage for us to Solstheim, and we will be leaving as soon as possible. I have to return to Whiterun before Ylva gives birth, and her time is drawing nearer with each passing day."

"Speaking of Ylva..." Ulfric flitted his hand to Jorleif. "Bring them to me."

The steward nodded, bowed slightly, and hurried off to the side.

I furrowed my brow, mouth turning down at the corners. Of course I understood that by "them" Ulfric couldn't possibly mean Ylva and Tyra. My wife could be stubborn and determined, but she wouldn't dare risk our unborn child's life with strenuous travel through the colds of Eastmarch. But then what could he mean by "them" in relation to Ylva?

"Your and your brother's wives have sent letters here," explained Ulfric as he got off his throne and walked down the steps to stand in front of me. "I suppose they thought you were still in the city."

Ah. That makes more sense.

Jorleif returned with a thin stack of sealed letters. He presented them to me in a loose grip, and I took them from him with a slight bow of my head.

"Thank you for keeping these for us," I said as I stowed the letters in my satchel. "I suppose I should head to the inn to write one of my own before we journey to Solstheim. Best not to leave Ylva in the dark about our plans."

"Very well, Companion," said Ulfric, tilting his head slightly. "May Talos watch over you in your travels."

I left the Palace, but instead of going straight back to the inn, I took a right towards the Valunstrad district of the city. I had one more task to finish before I rendezvoused with my brother.

Navigating the narrow streets between waist-high stone walls topped with wrought iron fences, I pushed my hand into my satchel to retrieve the stack of papers that Jorleif had given me. When I had the letters in my grasp, I noticed that there had to be at least eight in the stack. It seemed our wives had been busy since we left home.

I sorted through the letters, never stopping in my stroll. Four of the letters bore a crimson wax seal depicting two Stahlrim daggers. Tyra's own personal crest. The other four had seals of the same color, but the stamp in them illustrated a wolf's head with leathery dragon's wings stretching out behind it.

I passed my index finger over the seal. Ylva.

I would read all of these letters when I got back to the inn, but for now, I had a job to finish.

I took a turn and marched up the path leading to Viola Giordano's house, once again stowing the letters in my bag for safekeeping. Fist clenched before I even raised it, I rapped thrice on the heavy oaken door and took a step back to wait for an answer.

The curtains to the right of the door parted for a moment, which was just long enough for the busybody woman inside the house to catch my gaze. Her eyebrows lifted, and then the curtains flapped as they returned to their original position. Locks clicked open on the other side of the door. With a creak, it opened, but only enough for Viola to fit half of her face into the crack to speak to me.

"Why have you returned?" she asked, lips puckering into that anus-like state I detested so much. "Have you heard anything about more trouble? Are the Dark Elves performing some wicked magic in the Gray Quarter?" At this, her visible eye widened. "They are, aren't they?!"

I shook my head and took a short, sharp breath in. "No, I'm not here on any investigative business. I'm here to tell you to close your mouth about the Butcher. The case is solved, the murderer is dead, and your gossip is only hurting your neighbors."

She flung the door open, wispy hair flying about her face, and rested her clenched hands on her hips. "What, do you think me heartless? I feel for the Shatter-Shields, I truly do, but I have seen strange lights in that place since Calixto Corrium was killed! I've heard the whispers of the women he killed–"

"You're seeing and hearing servants cleaning the house."

"Do you think me a fool?!"

Yes, but that matters not right now.

"I can tell the difference between the voices of the living and the voices of the dead!" continued Viola with squared shoulders and squinted eyes. "How dare you accuse me!"

I sighed, "I'm not accusing you of anything you haven't done. I'm telling you that you need to stop."

Fire burning in her umber gaze, she leaned past the threshold of her home and poked a finger into the center of my breastplate. "You think because you're a Companion, you can just saunter up my path and order me around, do you? No, not me. I'm Viola Giordano, and even you cannot keep my silent! I will continue to speak the truth, no matter the cost."

Dealing with a pair of toddlers on a daily basis was easier than arguing with this woman. With another, sharper, sigh, I grabbed her wrist and leaned over her, forcing her to bend backward away from me.

"Unhand me!" shrieked Viola, gaze rolling back and forth behind me, as though she were looking for a guard to come help her. "Brute! Fiend! I'll have you know–"

"Shut up, you stupid woman," I hissed through clenched teeth. "You'll listen to what I have to say without another word, is that understood?"

Though her mouth came open, no words spilled out.

A slight smirk turned at the corner of my mouth. "Good. Now, I want you to stop talking about the Butcher, the spirit of the Butcher, and the victims of the Butcher. You are doing nothing for this city except adding fuel to a fire that desperately needs to be doused. Think about your neighbors, the Shatter-Shields, and everything they've gone through. Any more talk about the Butcher will only hurt them worse, and I think you and I can both agree that they deserve to mourn the loss of their daughter in peace, can't we?"

She nodded shakily, tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Y-yes, we agree on that."

My smirk widened, and I stepped back from Viola. "Very good. When I return to Windhelm, I hope that the guards will have something new to talk about. Do you think you can help with that?"

She nodded again, pulling her wrist from my loosening grip. "Yes, I can."

I took another two steps backward and offered her a slight bow. "Thank you for your time, Miss Giordano. I surely hope that our paths never cross again."

"As do I, you... dirty Companion bastard."

I turned on my heel as Viola retreated back into her house and slammed the door. I wasn't even two steps gone before I heard the locks engage. When I looked over my shoulder as I turned left, I caught her watching me past the curtains, though when our gazes met, she threw the drapes closed once again and disappeared from view.

I sighed as I headed to the inn. I truly hated relying on physical aggression to get my point across. Being brutish was more Farkas's forte. Though, in a way, I supposed it was best that I spoke with Viola myself. Had Farkas gone to intimidate her into keeping her mouth shut, she may have reported him to the guards. I doubted she'd say anything about me. Quiet words with a little force had proven to work for me in the past.

When I made it back to the Stone Quarter, I spotted Farkas, Dani, and her family standing there speaking. It looked as though they had sold all of their wares, and, much to my amusement, the boys held training swords and Runa cradled a small puppy in her arms.

"Well, well!" I shouted, one arm raised overhead to catch their attention. "It looks as though you've had a successful day."

"We sure did, Uncle Vilksa!" replied Samuel as he bounced on his toes. "We've also got some guards coming back with some training dummies, just like you said! They're going to escort us back to our home and show us a few tricks!"

"And we got a puppy!" squealed Runa, holding the small animal out for me to see. "Isn't she cute?"

I reached out and scratched the pup's scruffy snout. "She is. Don't you think so, sister?"

Dani rolled her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand, but not before I caught her smiling a little. "You two are insufferable. Farkas asked me the same thing."

"And you didn't answer me, either!" said Farkas with a smirk. Then, he turned to me. "What took you so long? The guards already told us that they were starting patrols on the roads."

I shrugged. "Just had to stop by and speak to one of the residents." I rifled through my bag and retrieved Tyra's letters. "Here. Jarl Ulfric was holding these for us."

He took them and started to open one, then seemed to think better of it. Carefully, he placed them in his own satchel, patting the side of the leather bag when he had the papers tucked safely inside.

"When does the boat leave for Solstheim?" I asked him.

"Tomorrow at dawn."

"I hope you have a safe journey," said Rosie as she stepped forward to give me a hug, "and I hope you get the answers you're so desperately searching for."

I returned her embrace. "Thank you. You've been such gracious hosts. I intend to repay you as soon as I can."

"We're family," said Dani when Roserana pulled away from me and moved to hug Farkas. Her wife took her place a moment later, wrapping her strong arms around my torso. "You don't owe us anything."

When we parted, the children all took turns embracing us before retreating a few steps away with their mothers. We all stood there for a moment, regarding each other, as though memorizing each and every detail we could before we parted for a long time.

"Write to us when Ylva is ready for visitors after the baby arrives," said Danilaith. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"I can't wait to meet the Dragonborn!" said Hroar as he lifted his sword into the air. "I bet she's got all kinds of stories to tell."

"One thing at a time, son," laughed Rosie. She put her arm around Hroar's shoulders before she began to walk toward the gates. "We'll see you again soon."

As they left, Farkas and I waved to them before we turned and walked up the steps to the inn. Though my heart sunk heavily in my chest to watch the only other family I'd known depart, something sparked in my gut when I thought about seeing them again before too long.

And that spark flickered in comparison to the excitement I felt when I thought about meeting our mother in just a few short days.

Once inside our rented room, Farkas and I sat down on our beds and began to tear into our letters. The sounds of breaking seals and rustling papers filled the silence between us; occasionally, one of us would chuckle at something, then return to sorting through the pages of handwritten love letters, drawings from our children, and notes telling us about the goings on that we'd missed since leaving home.

"Look at what Kale drew," said Farkas, holding up a page covered in crude charcoal lines. "It's supposed to be us back in Whiterun. Tyra says he asks when we're coming back every single night at bedtime."

"Ylva has been dealing with some false labor pains," I murmured before turning back to the last letter in my hands. "The healers have asked her to limit her activity as much as possible until the false labor stops. If it ever does."

"Are you worried about the baby coming early?"

I shook my head, setting the letters down on the nearby end table. "The healers think that rest should stop the pains, and they're too erratic to mean anything. Ylva is assured that the baby is fine, too. Danica is going to make weekly stops at Jorrvaskr to keep tabs on the baby's progress until the pains go away or the baby comes."

My brother's brow furrowed. He sat up a little straighter on his bed and put his hands on his knees. His gaze grew a touch grim, a strange expression on someone so usually unperturbed. "Do we need to return home?"

I leaned backward into the headboard of the bed, sighing so heavily that I felt the release in my toes. On one hand, Ylva would need even more help with the children now. If she couldn't leave our bed, she'd have to rely on others for aid. As her husband, I should be the one there to provide that aid.

But on the other hand, Ylva wanted me to continue in this search. She even said so at the bottom of her letters. If I returned, she'd probably chew me out for defying her wishes.

At last, I shook my head. "No, we need to press on. Ylva told us to keep going. She's confident that she'll be okay until we finish our journey."

With that, we both turned our attention to writing our own letters back to our wives and children. Silence fell between us again, with only the scratching of our quills dragging across parchment to fill the air.

My dearest Ylva,

I pray that you will be feeling better by the time this letter reaches you. I am deeply troubled to hear about your symptoms, and I wish so deeply that I could be there to ease your burdens. Your absence by my side sinks heavier into my bones with each passing hour.

Our journey was delayed by a matter in Windhelm. There was a string of murders and the guards were struggling to capture the culprit. We helped solve the mystery, killed the man responsible, and restored safety to the streets. Don't worry, we weren't seriously injured. Nothing that a healer couldn't fix, anyway.

Farkas and I have already located our old home, and we found out that we have three half-siblings living in Skyrim. We met our younger sister, Danilaith, her wife, Roserana, and their four children. You'll love them, dearest one. They are eager to meet you, too. They told us about our brother and other sister, and I hope to meet them soon. I believe that Danilaith plans to come visit you after our little one makes his (hopefully timely) arrival. Perhaps she can reach out to our other siblings to organize a meeting when our family is ready.

More still, we have located our mother. She is currently staying in Solstheim, so Farkas and I will be leaving to meet her tomorrow morning. I dread going back to that godsforsaken land, but we have to do this. If we don't, then the time I spent away from you would be for naught.

Because we'll be there, I doubt that any letters will make it to you until we return. If you wish, send more letters back to Ulfric, and we'll read them all as soon as we return.

I love you and long for the day we will be back in each other's arms. Give the children all of my love and tell our unborn little one to wait until I return to make his arrival into this world.

Yours always,

Vilkas

Once the ink dried, I folded the letter, poured some wax on it, and pressed my seal into it. A weight settled into my stomach as I lifted the seal off the dry wax. By putting those words down on paper and sealing it for delivery, I had solidified my choice, to keep going in spite of the worries I had for my wife.

I only hoped I made the right choice.