It’s a strange assembly that gathers in the council room of High Hrothgar. They file in glowering, legionaries and rebels, tight-faced Thalmor dignitaries, kings with causes and kings without. Generals. Dragon-slayers. A contentious jarl or two.
And they take their seats stiffly, these grand warriors and sovereigns of men, all muttering about the climb, the cold, the sharp stones underfoot, the troll, and whose idea was it to hold a peace council at the peak of the tallest mountain in Skyrim, anyway?
The Dragonborn, seated in pride of place at the head of the assembly, smiles like a snake. “Thank you all for attending this summit.”
Scattered groans around the table.





