Chapter One – Hazard Pay
Three days had passed since his graceful fall from the top of some Dwarven ruins. Be it the will of the Nine or some major fortune, Agarrin healed after finally losing consciousness from his injuries. When he woke it was daylight, but he knew he slept for a good stretch considering the sun was in a lower position than it was before he faded.
It was a fight at first, his body not wanting to cooperate with any movement. Were it not so vital he would have discarded at least his armor to ease the strain on his body. In the long run, however, it would have only hindered him by making potential combat even more life-threatening. So he fought on, burning pain spreading through what felt like every fraction of his being.
That first day was the worst of it. He made camp on a ridge high enough to barely see Markarth in the distance – well, at least Salvius Farm. Either way, Agarrin was only too pleased to finally see even a glimpse of his destination considering recent events. That night, under a cloudless and brilliantly starry sky, Agarrin slept like a stone.
Approaching Markarth again almost had a surreal feeling to it. No matter which way he puzzled it out, the Nord simply could not make sense of surviving the fall. His at-times simple mind wanted him to dismiss the matter and just sally forth to his payday, but there was just something he could not shake.
Though made entirely of rock and metal, Markarth was no less welcoming than the more natural towns and villages across Skyrim. That was for one simple fact: Civilization. Though practically every city, town, and settlement had its own dangers, there was still something reassuring about venturing out and managing to return to something… slightly less chaotic.
Typical of midday, the market was bustling with activity between merchants, traders, patrons, and men and women going to and from other destinations. A plethora of smells and sounds filled the air; a mixture of blood and raw meat from a butcher's stall mingled with the scent of herbs and spices from a small apothecary's stall perforated the nostrils while both heavy and soft footsteps and all manner of voices invaded the ears. Despite the myriad hardships of the land, a good marketplace saw fit to make you forget them all – at least until your coin purse emptied.
Carefully dodging all manner of people, Agarrin made his way through the marketplace and wasted little time making the short hike up to the palace. Glancing at the rushing water of the stream that divided the path in two reminded the Nord just how terribly thirsty he was. Though he had more than his fill of water after making it back to his feet, there was a deeper thirst that needed to be quenched. A thirst that would only ebb with the flow of mead. There will be time for that after I make my delivery, Agarrin thought, still focused on the task at hand.
Absently, Agarrin's large, calloused right hand touched a pouch fastened to his right hip. In the pouch was the item requested for delivery – one Centurion Dynamo Core. Apparently a thief had gotten his or her hands on Calcelmo's last two and he needed at least one for an experiment. All Agarrin could picture was one of those damned things being brought back to life, fail to be controlled, and result in a great loss of life in Markarth; or at least in the keep. It was of little consequence in the end. All the Nord needed was the coin; then it would be a brief stop at the Silver-Blood and he would be on his merry way.
Whoever had the job of maintaining the massive doors leading into Understone Keep clearly was a master of their craft. One would think the doors would require some considerable effort to open, but they allowed entry with relative ease and even closed without creating much of a fuss. Unlike most keeps, Understone Keep was built into the ground and mountain so it was considerably darker than any other keep in Skyrim; possibly in all of Tamriel. Though there really wasn't a substitute for natural light, there was still sufficient lighting throughout the halls. Enough to see where you were going at the very least.
Agarrin's destination took him south of the entrance, into a cavern that held the entrance both to the Hall of the Dead and the Nchuand-Zel Excavation Site. Exiting the short tunnel into the expanse of the cavern was almost like walking through a portal into some area beyond the keep. Though the Dwarven architecture was still present there was a vastly different atmosphere. With a large stream running through the cavern the air was cool and moist. Almost dome-like in shape, both sound and light spread through the cavern evenly; light coming from scattered fires amidst the Dwarven ruins.
Standing near some scattered Dwarven objects was Calcelmo, an Altmer that has seemingly dedicated his whole life to the study of the Dwemer. Before meeting him, Agarrin read through the first volume of Dwarves just to get an idea of what he was getting into. It was not a pre-existing familiarity with the Altmer that led to the quest to acquire a core either. Agarrin had simply been in Understone Keep and the old mage had noticed the Dwarven sword and shield Agarrin was carrying. For Calcelmo that was more than enough to strike up a conversation with the large Nord. Based on the flow of the conversation, Agarrin knew he was not the first to be sent on such an errand for the Altmer.
Calcelmo turned from his work before the Nord could open his mouth, "Ah, you have returned. Have you the item I requested?" Typical of most people in Skyrim, there was little concern for the welfare of the adventurer.
"Aye," Agarrin replied, fishing the core out of the satchel it was placed in.
Calcelmo eagerly took the core and gazed at it. "Fascinating, wouldn't you say?" Agarrin knew the question was more rhetorical than an actual question. The Altmer turned and began to walk away before stopping and turning back to Agarrin. "My apologies; I had promised a reward. I imagine you took this straight from a Centurion, so I will give you a small bonus as this core has actually been active."
Again no concern that Agarrin risked life and limb for this acquisition. That was of little concern when the weighty sack of coins was plopped into the Nord's gauntleted hand. With the contract fulfilled and payment dispersed Calcelmo turned and walked off to the Dwemer Museum. Wasting no time himself, Agarrin made for the main doors. All he cared about now was the frosty mug of mead that no doubt desired him as much as he desired it. He would make plans for his next venture later.