[Skyrim opens with an Imperial wagon with four bound prisoners inside. One of the prisoners is dressed in fine clothes and he is the only one who is gagged. They are all seated and the wagon is going downhill through a snowy
mountain pass.]
Ralof: Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border,
right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that
thief over there.
Lokir: Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was
nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen
that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me — we
should be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.
Ralof: We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.
Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!
[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]
Lokir: And what’s wrong with him?
Ralof: Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High
King.
Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if
they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?
Ralof: I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.
Lokir: No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.
Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?
Lokir: Why do you care?
Ralof: A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.
Lokir: Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead.
[The lead wagon is called out by one of the soldier as they approach the village of Helgen.]
Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!
General Tullius: Good. Let’s get this over with.
Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.
Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like
the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do
with this.
This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod
is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny…when I
was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.
[As the prisoners pull into town, they are gazed upon by a man and his son.]
Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?
Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub.
Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers.
Torolf: Inside the house. Now.
