Windhelm, the snowy capital of Eastmarch was where Signe had been raised. It had been far too long since she had been able to go back and she had missed the stone city dearly. Walking through the main gates she gave a nod to the city guards, stormcloak soldiers. At first glance, not much had changed. Silda was still standing at the fire near the gates asking for a few spare coins, and a few of the towns people were giving the dark elves trouble. Walking past Silda she dug a few coins from her coin purse and handed them to the old woman who thanked her profusely.
Walking into the blacksmith quarters she greeted Oengul as she passed his stall. “Still hammering away I see Oengul!" His reply was a just a grunt and a smile as he pulled a sword from the forge and continued his work. Oengul didn’t like being interrupted while he was smithing. Her fathers forge was at their home, just a bit down from the blacksmiths quarters. Pushing aside some leather strips that were hanging she stepped into the forge area. “Father? Are you here?" She called out as she heard the sound of a hammer on metal.
