It was the familiar Ralof again. Jonas ignored him, instead taking a moment to rest and recover his spirits. Just a moment ago, he had inexplicably received a massive amount of dragon souls, only for his joy to turn into sorrow when he was killed by a wolf while in a daze. It was truly painful and humiliating. The boy silently warned himself to be cautious this time and not fall into any more strange traps.
Following his plan from the previous Rebirth, Jonas still intended to go with the convoy. He remained lethargic throughout the journey until the moment Alduin arrived. Instantly, he seemed to come alive; he first killed that cold female officer with a single punch, then grabbed Ralof and ran while the scene was in chaos.
Last time he was with the Imperial soldier Hadvar, but this time he went with this Stormcloak. He called it "even-handed egalitarianism," and Jonas, finding humor in his misery, let out a laugh.
As soon as Ralof entered the fortress with Jonas, his first priority was to find a longsword for protection, followed by scavenging for food and drink. He took a cloth bag and packed six or seven loaves of bread, three opened green bottles of Alto Wine, two intact bottles of Whiterun-produced mead, and fished out a half-drunk bottle of Cyrodilic Brandy from a hidden compartment under a cabinet—worth a hundred and fifty gold coins including import taxes, it had the effect of an alchemical potion and could continuously restore stamina.
Ralof shared the food with Jonas. He was starving; the prisoner carriage had traveled slowly for several days before reaching Helgen, leaving the prisoners hungry, exhausted, and weary.
Ralof's mouth was stuffed full, the aroma of wheat filling his nose and making his mouth water. The bread soaked up his saliva and the wine, swelling and providing a great sense of fullness. He let out a comfortable hum. "Aren't you going to have a bite, lad?"
"I'm not hungry," Jonas grumbled. "By the way, what do you plan to do once we escape? Your Stormcloaks' main base is gone."
"Hmm? Impossible! What nonsense are you talking?"
Jonas looked bewildered.
Ralof rambled on, "Our ranks are doing just fine. Once we go back this time, Ulfric Your Highness will surely lead us to victory over those Imperial curs!"
"Then is there a Baron Dilo in Winterhold?"
"No. Never heard of him."
Jonas gasped, his gums aching. "This is truly bad!" He realized that his Rebirth likely wasn't on the same timeline but had shifted.
Every timeline had roughly similar individuals, yet they were all unique; once they died, they were truly dead.
Jonas had originally thought that no matter how coldly he watched from the sidelines, as long as he started over, those who died could be resurrected and opportunities would come again. But now he understood that was impossible.
After escaping with Ralof and two squads of soldiers they encountered along the way, Jonas rushed to Winterhold.
The place was in the midst of active construction, but the scale was small, with a total population of no more than a hundred households. It was completely unlike the grand sight Jonas had seen the last time he visited.
He landed on the ground, and a guard noticed him. "Citizen, what business do you have in Winterhold?"
"Is there a man named Dilo here?"
"Of course, he's Jarl Korir's Housecarl. Why, are you a messenger?"
"I want to see him."
The guard shrugged. "Go on then, he's in the Jarl's Longhouse. Be careful not to do anything illegal; we'll be watching you."
The new district of Winterhold was arranged underground, with its entrance at a cliff face. A long construction team braved the wind and snow, carrying lanterns like a swarm of orange fireflies. The Jarl's Longhouse was still in the old district, and its dilapidated appearance was hardly respectable. As Jonas walked down the street, a drunkard rushed out from the roadside and shouted at him, "You damn waste, come here, I need to show you what's what... Hey, what are you looking at!"
Jonas frowned. A guard walked over and scolded the drunkard, telling him to get lost. The fellow shrank back but remained persistent until the guard knocked him unconscious. He lay on the ground, and no one cared.
"Who is he?"
"Ranmir, a piece of trash."
"Why doesn't he join the construction?"
"His sister is very good at work; he just needs to be a blood-sucking maggot. People like him are the same kind of trash wherever they are."
Jonas was dazed. He crouched down and watched the drunkard stick his face into the bushes to vomit. Once he had emptied his stomach of the sour, foul fluid, he struggled to turn over and lay on his back. The back of his head was smeared with his own vomit, his face whiter than snow and tinged with blue, his eyes bloodshot, and his nose covered in rose-red, festering, pus-filled pimples. Surprisingly, however, he didn't smell particularly foul—perhaps the cold wind had frozen the scent, or perhaps he cleaned himself regularly in private.
"You drink every day; is there any meaning to it?" Jonas asked softly.
The drunkard's eyes widened, and he suddenly burst into laughter. The guard nearby laughed as well.
Their laughter made Jonas feel ashamed. "What's so funny?"
The guard shook his head. "Just a little kid." He walked away.
The drunkard continued to laugh incessantly, clutching his stomach, saliva choking his throat as he laughed with all his might.
Jonas really didn't know what they were laughing at. He knew why he was alive: he had three enemies to kill—the Black Dragon, Miraak, and the person who caused the Dragon Break. He was here to save the world, to save more people. He was righteous, and for the sake of the world's longevity, he didn't mind throwing away his life. It was glorious.
Jonas knew that a person must do something while they are alive; that is fate. But fate itself is a part of life; there's no need to treat fate with cold indifference, as long as it has meaning.
Some people don't even know what they are living for, yet they can still be so smug. Truly inferior animals!
The drunkard finished laughing. "You tell me then, what is 'meaning'."
"Allowing children to grow up healthy, adults to live and work in peace, and the elderly to be cared for." Jonas thought for a moment and said.
Ranmir flew into a rage. "Bullshit! You brat! You haven't even lived, yet you spout this kind of logic. You little thing whose hair hasn't even grown in! Where did you learn these words to start spouting them out? Meaning? What meaning is there to living? Living is just for dying, no matter if you're a coward or a weakling, you'll die just the same. Ha? Drinking is comfortable enough for me! Aedra, Daedra, none of you can compare to me!"
"You'll have times when you're sober." Jonas suppressed his anger and retorted stiffly, then turned and walked away quickly, not daring to speak further with this drunkard.
He met Dilo, who embraced him warmly. "Heavens, the Master succeeded! You're back!"
"What did the Master go to do?"
"He went beyond the heavens, saying he would bring you back. You're back, but where is he?"
"I don't know."
Dilo's face turned pale instantly. "How did you get back?"
"When I woke up, I was sitting on a carriage..."
"I see. You must have been very scared. It's okay, I'll arrange a room for you to rest. Wait, wait a moment, I forgot to tell you—I found your mother and brought her here. Your mother is my mother; don't worry!"
The image of the lady in the white bearskin cloak appeared in Jonas's mind, her emerald eyes shimmering in the lake of his heart. "Is it Lady Serana?"
"No, not the Mistress, but your biological mother."
Jonas fell into a daze as some fragmented memories surfaced from the depths of his mind.
"Mother..."
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