The Nine Holds

Son of the late Jarl Oslek Snowhawk, groomed for leadership from a young age: studying history, politics and the sword while other children played. At eighteen he joined the Legion to fight in the Great War alongside Ysroarr Gray-Mane. Disillusioned by the White-Gold Concordat, he marched on to Hammerfell before word of his father's disappearance brought him home to claim the seat.

Hjaalmarch needed a fresh start when Calmir returned. His father's mysterious vanishing and the toll of the Great War had left the hold uneasy, but Calmir's war experience and lifelong preparation helped the people accept him as Jarl, a leader unburdened by the troubles that consumed Oslek's final days.

Descended from the line of Olaf One-Eye, he rules Whiterun in his advancing years with the resolve of a man who has seen too much to flinch. A veteran of the Great War and once part of a fabled band of adventurers alongside Parthax Voryndar and Dujek One-Eye, he is no stranger to danger or hard decisions.

Eorlund endeavours to keep his people and their traditions safe from the pressures of Cyrodiil. Whiterun will stand as the jewel of Skyrim, a crossroads where all are welcome to trade and live, so long as they abide by his rules. Whether the threat comes from friend or foe, the Jarl will protect his realm at all costs.

A stern and deeply traditional Nord whose life has been defined by service, sacrifice and an unwavering devotion to the people of Falkreath. Once the Housecarl of Jarl Kellanved, Rigmyr served the hold with a quiet loyalty that eventually carried him to the seat itself. He is a harsh man by nature, blunt in speech and uncompromising when it comes to cowardice, dishonour or betrayal. Yet beneath that severity lies a man who cares fiercely for those placed under his protection.

He is a veteran of the Great War, having fought beneath the banner of the Empire, and it left wounds that never truly healed. He watched close friends die in his arms, men he had eaten beside, laughed with and trusted with his life. He learned young that war does not care about titles or promises, and that every name on a battlefield belongs to someone waiting at home.

Those memories shaped the Jarl he would become. He has little patience for leaders who treat their people as numbers or soldiers as expendable, because he remembers what it is to lose someone and be unable to do anything about it. He may speak harshly, demand much and expect people to carry their responsibilities, but he does so because he believes their lives are worth defending.

He follows Tsun, the Bear, and holds the Old Ways close. To him honour is not a word to be spoken when convenient, it is a man's promise when keeping that promise becomes difficult. Strength exists to protect the weak, not to prey upon them, and leadership exists to serve the people rather than raise the ruler above them.

On the 23rd of Last Seed, 4E 185, after Kellanved Ultor stepped down, Rigmyr was chosen by the court to become Jarl of Falkreath. His ascension marks a return to a harder, older style of leadership, one built on tradition, duty and personal responsibility.

He is a cold man, but not a heartless one. Rigmyr has buried too many friends to take the lives of his people lightly. Falkreath is not merely the hold he rules. It is the people he swore to protect.

A Nord with ancient ties to the Pale. Though the noble blood of Skyrim's kings runs through his veins, the harshness of his upbringing afforded him no luxuries: only a life built around survival, combat and practical work. As a lesser scion of his clan he was never destined for rulership, but life in the frozen north has a way of weeding out the unworthy in favour of the exceptional.

That selection began at thirteen, when fate pitted his longboat against a bull whale, a battle won dearly at the cost of a shattered leg. Shallow wounds, as he would call them later, ones that did not stop him leading troops into battle at twenty six, nor becoming one of Dawnstar's youngest Stewards at thirty.

In 4E 175 a plague devastated the proud families of the Pale. Faced with precious few worthy challengers, Varinn became the natural successor to his grand uncle. The newly appointed Jarl spent the next years manoeuvring the beleaguered hold from crisis into rising prosperity. Dawnstar now stands as a port city in strategic resurgence, yet politically surrounded, and must sail a narrow gauntlet if it is to survive.

A calm and disciplined Nord whose steady presence anchors a hold with a long history of division. Raised inside Winterhold's old traditions, he gave his life to the study of Conjuration, drawn to the craft for what it demands of a man, restraint, clarity and discipline, rather than for the power it offers. His reputation grew through years of fair judgment and patient listening, and it earned him the trust of fisherfolk, scholars and soldiers alike. In a place fractured by mistrust between the College and the town, Heyth became the rare thing: a mediator who hears every voice before he raises his own.

Winterhold's glory is long faded. The Great Collapse, the College's looming towers, and the Sea of Ghosts gnawing at the broken coast all define a hold caught between ancient pride and modern ruin.

On the 30th of Sun's Height, Heyth Whitemane was named Jarl of Winterhold, a quiet turn but a decisive one. Since then he has worked to mend old wounds and pull the hold back toward unity, on the belief that honest intention and shared purpose can teach its people to learn from one another. Under a measured rule the battered hold stands poised for renewal, led by a Jarl whose mastery of the arcane mirrors his mastery of judgment: calm, fair, unwavering.

Born a commoner in Ivarstead, he made his name on reliability and a calm head. As a young man he left Skyrim for Cyrodiil and was already there when the Great War began. The relationships he built inside the Empire earned him enough trust to lead Legion recruits without ever being sworn into the Legion himself.

He came home to Ivarstead hailed as a hero and did not stop working: policing the land, bringing order to the Rift and to the trade routes around it. When he took Fellstar Farm in his own town, High King Varic Law-Giver named him Thane, and later took him as Steward. In 4E 184 Varic died at sea, and his sword was found in the hands of Redguard pirates off High Rock.

No heir to Riften. No High King in Skyrim. Vard stepped forward, and a court of his peers found him the undeniable candidate. The seat of the Rift was filled swiftly, and though few know the details of that particular moot, nobody disputes the result.

He rules with order and respect, closer to an Imperial in manner than a Nord, and the hold shows it. The Rift is steady, growing, and at peace, with livelihood placed at the epicentre of everything Riften does.