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Jarl Korir chose to stand beside the High King to answer all questions regarding the Hold. Second Thane Alina was seated beside First Thane Jonhild, following her were the two Great Patriarchs, Tormund Firemane and Sigurd Moonblade.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak remained at the other side of the hall as an outsider standing in the shadow of a corner eyeing everything. He may grumble whenever he sees Torygg but he wasn’t looking to anyone other than Jon with complete focus and interest giving Jon a series of goosebumps every now and then.

Jon and Alina were like the most brilliant pair. Jon, who healed himself right away after gaining divine powers, was now back to his previous self but his hair has grown a lot reaching his back. He didn’t even bother with it as he gave it a style of Nordic braids and was done with it, his only regret was not growing a glorious beard to complete the look. Alina, on the other hand, was radiating in her classy dresses and noble aura capturing the eyes of the Imperials who were in a dilemma between Alina’s radiance and Jon’s glares.

"First and foremost, thank you all for attending the meeting today. The past few days were hard on everyone here so I hope most of you have taken your rest for a long meeting." King Torygg said.

Everyone else smiled calmly and nodded.

"Before we start, I think we have some high-value prisoners we need to deal with. Thane Jonhild, I think these people are your prisoners to deal with. Can you please take things from here?"

"Yes, your Grace." Jon stood up and turned to his housecarl, Trudvar.

"Bring them in."

Trudvar led some Hold Guards to the outside of the great hall and returned a minute later with nine men and women. They looked dignified but a bit broken.

They were the nine leaders of the nine clans forming the ’Dragon Hunt Alliance’.

"I presume that you lot have picked a speaker for yourselves." Jon said.

"Yes, Thane Jonhild. I will be the speaker."

The one who replied was Orga Stormfist. Undoubtedly, she is the most glib-tongued person among the lot.

"And you are?" High King Torygg asked.

"Matriarch of the Stormfist Clan, Orga Stormfist. Also known as the leader of the Stomfist Brigade, Orga the Younger."

"I feel like I heard some of those names before." Jon wondered.

"Orga Stormfist is a legendary leader who founded the Stormfist clan thousands of years ago, the clan fell from glory nearly 950 years ago when they sided with Fildgor Strong-Prince, brother to Jorunn the Skald-King, and formed the Stormfist Brigade to launch a Civil War over the rule of Eastern Skyrim." Alina said.

"Oh! I see." Jon nodded and turned around, "So, Orga Stormfist. You are a well-known mercenary according to my buddy Brom of Jehanna. What exactly brought you down with the others to this so-called [Dragon Hunt Alliance]? Also, who came up with the name?"

"... The reason for the alliance was the subjugation of an enemy clan gaining too much power. Seventeen years ago, eleven clans have gathered up for the same purpose and broke their alliance thinking they have fulfilled their goals. Two weeks ago, messengers arrived at each clan with the news of the survival of Jonhild Firemane who is now known as Jon Dare, thane of Winterhold. With the demise of two of the eleven clans, the Bloodsails, and the Black-Bone, the rest of the nine decided to face the threat in one swoop disguised as a bandit raid. And the [Dragon Hunt Alliance] was just a name brought by some drunken soldiers when thane Jonhild was called the Young Dragon of Winterhold by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Oh! I am so flattered." Jon’s expressions turned bright right away.

The people were in loss of words how this guy kept acting childishly.

"So, you said there were messengers arriving from some sort of source, who exactly were they?" Jon asked.

This question was really scary. Some of the Imperial Diplomats were on their toes once Jon asked such a question. Jon’s eyes scanned them one after the other as he could tell that some of them were surely political allies with the Thalmor.

"The letters came from an anonymous source but the elders of the clans could trace them back to Clan Volkihar, one of the darkest clans of Skyrim."

"Volkihar?" Some Nords shivered for the word and clearly, the High King and his men were well aware of the name.

"Your Grace, can we please get an elaboration of who are those Volkihar folk?" The Imperial Legat of Fort Kastav, Sulla Trebatius.

"As you have heard, they are the darkest of the Nord Clans and they a true hidden clan. One that has severed contacts with the world hundreds of years ago but they are very infamous and vile. They are vampires." Falk Firebeard said.

"Then why the Vigilants of Stendarr are not taking action against them?" The Legat asked.

"What part of the ’true hidden clan’ don’t you understand?" Falk said with annoyance.

"Don’t give me that crap! All of your clans are called hidden clans and a bunch of them are in front of us here."

"The Clans call themselves hidden because they do not follow the doctrine of the Empire. Some worship the Ancient Nordic Pantheon, some worship the Nordic Pantheon and some worship the Daedra and that’s why they stay hidden from Imperial Cult. The ones who worship the Daedra are considered enemies to the rest of the world and that includes the other Clans of Nords while ours keep contact with the world." Alina explained with a level headed tone.

"So those Volkihars can’t be found? Just like that?"

"The last known appearance of them was recorded in The Reach area about ten days ago when they clashed with the Firemanes and kidnapped Mr. Jonhild Firemane over here. He is the last known man who came into contact with them." Suddenly, one of the Imperial Mages spoke up.

Jon narrowed his eyes. As he thought, a superpower like the Empire is not to be underestimated and they have eyes on everything.

"True." Jon casually replied.

"Then you could have said something from a while ago!" The Imperial Legate stood up to face Jon with a frown.

"Come on, Sulla. We can take this outside after this meeting is over." Jon replied to the Imperial Legate mockingly.

"Jon Dare, this is official business. So you better not obstruct us."

"Interesting! You lot have a lot of balls as it seems."

"Wanna try?"

"Don’t tempt me, Imperial. I may not be as powerful as I was yesterday but I am still Jon Dare. You and I go way back so you better keep it zipped."

Jon and Sulla Trebatius, the Legate of Fort Kastav, were at odds with each other for a very long time ever since the founding of the Dare Dragon Company. Legate Sulla tried too many times to extort money from Jon but the latter was as shrewd as a Breton and as calculative as Imperials. The provisions of Fort Kastav tributed on Winterhold haven’t increased a single grain of salt ever since the days before Jon’s arrival to Winterhold. Moreover, Jon has completely cut Sulla’s feet from Winterhold and stopped many unauthorized excavations Sulla ordered around the hold.

Jon was actually very aware of Sulla’s identity as a character from the game. By 4E 201, this man will desert from the Legion and become an explorer reaching very deep in the Dwemer Ruins of Alftand only at the doorsteps of the Legendary City of Blackreach. Now as Jon was aware of Sulla’s intentions, he wouldn’t let him out of his post to stuck his nose where it doesn’t belong. This was why Winterhold and the Imperial Legion of Fort Kastav were always at odds.

"This isn’t over, Jon Dare."

"It is. You just don’t realize it yet."

Jon was truly amused by the amount of the enemies he makes wherever he goes. The curse of the protagonist is truly marvelous.

"Thane Jonhild. You were the last to come across those Vampires. Some of the righteous clans like the Skyguard clan and the Gold-Fair clan has a deep grudge with the Volkihar clan. Do you have anything that can help us with the case of the Volkihar clan?" High King Torygg smoothened the atmosphere.

"Well, I was imprisoned by the Volkihar clan for quite some time. Nothing I’d wish to relive ever again. If you want to know the location of their castle then I’d say it is really hard to tell but as soon as I escape their fort after employing their inner political strife to my favor, I found myself in a Daedric Realm called Coldharbour."

"""By the eight!"""

"Coldharbour! It can’t be!"

"Gods! This is serious."

Everyone in the room reacted with a pale face. Of course, this was no small matter.

"How in Oblivion did you escape that?" Sybille Stentor asked.

"As most of you know about the damned prophecy that links me to three Elder Scroll, the head of the Volkihar clan known as Lord Harkon wanted to find those Elder Scrolls. I led them in a few mazes to recover an Elder Scroll and surprisingly, the [Tools of Kagrenac]. It was then when I devised a plan by breaking free from their spells and forcing them to all travel to Coldharbour. I then used the device they use to travel between the Realms to come home and sabotage it from this side. Where I found myself somewhere in the Sea of Ghosts and then used some magic to contact my adoptive mother, Arch-Wizard Nurina Aren, to pick me up."

Jon made up some truths and had to hide up some other facts. The secrets he let out were nothing compared to his Soul Fragmental Artifact, [Pride] which he used to escape.

"Wait, wait! Hold up! You sabotaged an artifact that can travel between the world and escaped a vampire den just like that?" An Imperial Mage jumped up not buying any part of the story.

"Yes, I also came across a Daedric Titan and struck a deal with him to fight for me. I think your report should contain that. Daedric Titans are the most dangerous kind of Daedric Creatures ever recorded as far as you Imperials know, right?"

"... Yes, right. The Daedric Titan! There was that..." The mage realized he needed to link more dots in this accident.

"To sum things up, the Volkihar clan comes from Oblivion and they have the ability to travel through realms which makes sense why no one found them for so many years. Any more questions?"

"None for now." High King Torygg paused the hearing about Jon’s adventures and nodded for Jon to continue.

"Now as we got the Volkihar thing out of the way. Orga Stormfist, I promised safe passage for the men of the clans and I delivered. You heads of the Clans also delivered yourselves without any trickery so I respect that. Another question, the force of High Elves that aided you, what was their identity?"

Jon’s question this time was right in the heart of the problem. He could notice the Imperials taking deep breaths ready to stop any political drama from happening.

Orga Stormfist was having a hard time here but she noticed Alina looking at her. From the way her mouth moved, Alina was saying something to Orga which the latter understood but was about to break into laughter.

Orga cleared her throat and spoke loudly.

"The High Elves who aided us were a group of Dark Mages that we hired."

"I see, so we can use the heads of those Elves to decorate the walls of Saarthal." Jon concluded right away.

The move was completely unexpected to the Imperial Mages. They all panicked in an instant.

Their main goal as diplomats dispatched by the Empire is to wrap up the mess and suppress any political uprising that may lead to any unwanted conflict. The Empire had many preparations for the Thalmor but a conflict of that kind may cause big trouble.

They came to think that Jon will accuse the Thalmor of being the ones who attacked him and cause a mess but the move that Jon made was to provoke the Thalmor to the extreme. The diplomats were prepared to face the former anticipation by saying that Jon or the clan had no physical proof that the Thalmor were involved in this yet Jon knew better. Law and Politics was his oldest area of expertise and he was no stranger to playing dirty.

If Jon desecrated the corpses of the Elven Arch-Wizards. It wouldn’t be just a political drama, it will be a full-on tomato war.

Their response should either be admitted that those Elves are Thalmor which means that the Empire will be in open conflict with the Dominion for doing a large-scale military operation without permission on its soil or keep silent and watch the Aldmeri Dominion go into a full-on political conflict with the Imperials acquiring new gains.

Jon looked at the Imperial with disgusted eyes. How on Nirn can they just accept to be the ones cleaning after their enemies mess and even go in cahoots with them? The Empire was really rotten to the core.

Such an entity as the Empire should be cleansed from top to bottom but Jon had nothing to do with that right now anyway.

Jon just looked at Orga and spoke his judgment.

"Well, in the end, we don’t have much to do with the Elves. As the aggressors, I have every right to obliterate you lot but I chose mercy for a very good reason. You fuckers are Nords and killing you weakens Skyrim. The High King himself has traveled many miles across the Kingdom to stop the pointless bloodshed. You fuckers are the core power of Skyrim, whenever there is war, you are the first to answer under the banner of His Grace the High King. Killing you is killing his grace’s soldiers. See where I am going there? If you lot do not have a value to Skyrim, I would have killed you off the face of Nirn."

Jon’s lecturing tone was directly targeting the people’s cores. He was not angry or anything but he wanted to make his point clear.

"You lot are my prisoners until each of your clans bail you out with Ten Thousand Gold Septims each or what is its worth. Managing you will be done by Thane Alina Moonblade."

Jon sat the ransom for 10,000 Gold Septims. By no means that was something look down on.

Jon’s reasoning was clear. The number of the Dare Troopers who died in the battle is going to cost the company a lot and the day is filled with funerals to the fallen troopers. Jon himself is going to attend a sermon for the fallen heroes in the Temple of Kyne.

The Leaders of the Clans couldn’t help but nod their heads in bitterness and see themselves out to be led to their prisons once again.

"Now that we got this out of the way, I guess all that is left is decorating the walls with the heads of those rogue Altmer Wizards." Jon said to provoke the Imperials.

"Wait!" A voice called for Jon, "I have a say in that, Thane of Winterhold."

Everyone looked at the speaker for their eyes to almost drop out of their sockets.

On the door leading to the great hall of Jarl Korir’s longhouse, three High Elves stood.

A High Elf in an Imperial Legion Armor and another in a Bard Robe. The two distanced themselves from the third which was the one who just called for Jon.

A female high elf in an expensive-looking Thalmor robe.

It was none other than first ambassador Elenwen.