By the sixth resurrection, Jonas had learned to be obedient. This time, he followed the prisoners to the execution block without a fuss. The horse thief suddenly tried to run while the scribe was recording names, only to be shot dead by an arrow. It pierced his heart from behind, and he collapsed onto the ground, his blood pooling into a small puddle.
When Jonas stepped off the cart, the scribe couldn't find any record of his life. The kind-hearted Nord man said to the female officer beside him, "Captain, he's not on the list. He's innocent."
The female officer showed not a shred of mercy, stating they should just process him along with the rest and not to worry about the list.
The scribe could only look at Jonas with a guilty expression. "Child, we will do our best to send your remains back to High Rock. Fallen leaves should always return to their roots."
"Thank you." Jonas frowned, keeping his head down; his mind was throbbing painfully right now.
In the distance, some civilians had gathered to watch the execution. They were Helgen locals who had lived there for generations. They were accustomed to the bloody sights of the execution grounds; it was a major staple of life. Except for children who were kept at home, basically all the adults would come to watch. The soldiers were familiar with them and didn't stop them, merely telling them not to get too close to avoid any suspicion of obstructing official business.
A priest began to pray, only to be shouted down by a red-haired Stormcloak soldier. He shouted that he was bound for Sovngarde and mocked the Imperials for having nowhere to go after death. He was the first on the list and strode boldly to the chopping block. The female officer kicked the back of his knees, forcing him down and pressing his head onto the cold, slimy bluestone. One could only wonder if he felt a shiver.
Jonas watched as the masked executioner raised his axe—a very heavy, thick axe that could definitely sever a neck bone in one stroke, ensuring the condemned wouldn't suffer too much pain.
Killing is a simple matter, but killing beautifully isn't quite so simple. Clean and efficient, ending a life in one stroke with minimal pain—that was the executioner's professional pursuit.
Whoosh—
The axe fell. Everything happened exactly as everyone expected: the head flew into the basket like a stone, and blood sprayed from the neck. Hot blood hissed out for about ten seconds before finally stopping.
The stench of excrement wafted from the headless body. Once the head is gone, the body loses control of itself; it was inevitable, though certainly not dignified. The female officer kicked the corpse aside. The remains lay limp on the ground in an unnatural posture, making one feel as if it were a puppet, though it had been a living person not long ago.
The Stormcloak soldiers' faces flushed with anger, their eyes brimming with tears as they shouted various slogans, heroic and solemn.
The female officer barked, "Next prisoner!"
The scribe looked hesitant. "Captain, that child really is..."
"I said, next prisoner!"
According to the roster, Jonas was second. The scribe walked to his side and said gently, "Go on, prisoner. Don't be nervous."
The boy smiled at him. "You're a good man."
"You're very brave, child."
Jonas was very calm. At that moment, a dragon's roar echoed from the horizon. It was his old rival, Alduin. He was coming again. After so many attempts, the boy was certain the Black Dragon was looking for him. However, He likely wasn't sure which one was the true Dragonborn. What Jonas had to do was hide well, avoid exposing himself, and then seize the opportunity to escape and save his life.
Jonas stood calmly for a while. The female officer repeatedly ordered him to the block, but he remained indifferent. The Imperial soldiers grew tense, hands on their weapons; at a single command from their captain, they would rush forward and hack this cowering boy to pieces.
The female officer rushed over to punch Jonas, but the boy dodged easily. He said, "Listen."
The other party drew her longsword, having already decided to finish him off. A dragon's roar exploded above their heads, the clouds shifted, and the Black Dragon landed on the fortress as meteors fell from the sky.
"What the hell is that thing!"
In an instant, chaos erupted. Livestock wailed. Jonas didn't look up, he just took a deep breath. Alduin hadn't noticed him. Good, the first step was complete.
Next, he followed Ralof in his escape, climbing the tower and jumping onto rooftops in a disheveled state. Midway, he encountered the scribe, who was busy helping a group of children.
The Imperial soldiers were ordered to attack the dragon, while a squad was detached to protect the residents' evacuation. By the time the civilians were cleared out, Helgen was in ruins. The Black Dragon was still breathing fire, the air was distorted, and the smoke was scorching. Jonas, like a headless fly, followed the scribe into a fortress. According to him, they could escape through the dark caves beneath the fortress.
The two finally caught their breath after entering the fortress. The scribe smiled at him and untied Jonas's bonds. "My name is Hadvar. I was born in Riverwood, but I grew up in Cyrodiil. My uncle is the town blacksmith."
The boy nodded to him, then proceeded deeper into the fortress on his own.
"You must be terrified."
"No, I'm actually quite happy."
"Happy? Why? Well, I suppose escaping death is a reason. Don't worry, since you're not on the roster, you won't have a bounty and can travel anywhere in Skyrim." Hadvar took a torch from the wall. The lighting deeper in the fortress was poor, and it was in disrepair, so it certainly wouldn't be an easy walk. "I know this leads to a sinkhole that should get us out. I wonder if the others made it... sigh, I'm really worried about them."
Jonas recalled the sight of the Black Dragon's rampage and the dragon fire burning innocent people. He felt not a shred of pity in his heart, only a slight joy at having evaded Alduin's pursuit. As the saying goes, 'where there's life, there's hope.' As long as he could rest and recover for a while, he would surely find a way to deal with the Dragon King. When that time came, he would fulfill his destiny and avenge the wronged souls.
"I can't believe it. Dragons have appeared again. The ancient legends are all true; there really are dragons in the world." Hadvar muttered, his mind in turmoil. "What will the future become? Skyrim right now... first the war, now dragons. There are so few peaceful days."
"You're alive either way, you might as well mind your own business." Jonas scoffed. "We haven't even truly escaped yet, and you're already starting to worry about others?"
"You child, why do you only speak in logic? Weren't you terrified back at the execution?"
"I wasn't afraid of being beheaded; it's just that your axe wasn't sharp enough." Jonas wanted to argue his point, but he lost heart after one sentence. "It's useless telling you this, might as well not say anything."
They encountered several Stormcloak soldiers along the way who tried to attack Hadvar for wearing Imperial armor. Jonas beat them half to death with his fists until they were finally subdued. The boy simply said he didn't want to kill too many people and told them to follow behind obediently. Eventually, the group grew into a long line.
Hadvar was right; there was a sinkhole deep inside, and it contained a group of Frostbite Spiders. These things were far too common. Jonas had a sudden whim, thinking about building a Frostbite Spider farm. With their reproduction speed, they would surely produce a large amount of silk and meat, which would be perfect for territory construction.
"You're talking about raising spiders? Someone's already doing that—Baron Dilo of Winterhold. You know Winterhold has a cold climate and farming is difficult, so he made his fortune by raising spiders. I have to say, it's a good method." A well-traveled Stormcloak soldier indicated that Jonas was a step too late; the idea was no longer fresh.
"Dilo?" Jonas had heard this name many times.
Hadvar: "Right, Dilo Whitehill. Speaking of which, your surname is also Whitehill. Is it a coincidence, or are you from the same clan?"
"I don't know, but perhaps I really should go see this Baron Dilo."
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