Sharva gra-Urzaz – known by some as the Hero of Kvatch – had just sat down to dinner. Dreams of grilled slaughterfish, freshly caught from Bravil's canals, were broken by a loud knocking at her door.
The Orc growled, reaching for her bow. If this was another lost skooma junkie on their way to the den, Mauloch help them! She didn't like to be disturbed in the evenings. Unlike the other denizens of Bravil, Sharva preferred a good book to cheap wine and quick company.
The knocking persisted. "Milady! A message for milady!" A sickly voice cried out, pausing her loud banging only to cough even more loudly. One of the beggars, then. Putting her bow back, Sharva threw the door open to find a filthy, drenched Imperial on her doorstep.
"A thousand pardons, kind lady," Wretched Aia said, "I was told to find ye."
"By whom?" Sharva said mildly, pushing back anger and thoughts of slaughterfish. Once again, her evening peace was disturbed by some stupid errand. It seemed, after closing an Oblivion gate and saving a few people, she was now expected to be the hero to deal with things. Even her advancement through the Mages Guild - now ranked Wizard, or something - had been stellar, despite hardly knowing any magic.
"A guard captain be waitin' for you in the Suitor. Looks all official-like. From Skingrad," Aia said, coughing more.
Skingrad? Now this was unusual. Sharva had visited the opulent city several times for pleasure (if a hero's work can be called that), twice on Guild business, and once for a private errand. But for a guard captain to personally travel to this cesspit of Cyrodiil? And request her presence?
"Did the good Captain say why he's here?" Sharva said.
"No, milady," the sickly Imperial said, "but he said ye should come 'at once!'. Threatened to beat me if you was late, he did." Aia spat and made a rude sign. On reflection, this didn't bode well. An official summons often preceded some long journey to the far ends of Cyrodiil. Sharva dug around in her pockets and at last found her house key.
"Can you do something for me? Something important," Sharva said to the beggar.
"Anything for you, kind lady!"
Wondering if she was going to regret her generosity one day, the Orc handed Aia the key. "Look after my house while I'm gone. There's some cold slaughterfish on the table. Still fresh." At least someone would enjoy her dinner, even if she couldn't.
"Arkay bless ye for all ye days," Aia said. Her eyes were shining with joy. She probably hadn't had somewhere dry to sleep for years, let alone eat something that wasn't mouldy. "I'll go tell the Captain that ye be coming straight over." Aia shambled off into the night, pocketing the keys and mumbling Divine blessings.
Now, if only she go back to her dinner and forget about beggar-messengers and Skingrad Captains, the Hero of Kvatch thought wistfully. Then she swore long and loudly. "By the Orc-Father! What mess am I getting into now?"
Fifteen minutes later, armed with her bow and knapsack, Sharva entered the Lonely Suitor Lodge. It was a pleasant enough place. Gro-Galash saw to that. There was always a cheery fire lit and plenty of Ranaline's meat surprise bubbling away in the hearth. In fact, the Suitor would almost be respectable if not for the many thieves that it attracted.
Bogrum gro-Galash greeted her warmly with a hearty chuckle. "Don't see you around here very often, Orc-Sister! What can I get you?"
"I'm here on business, Bogrum," Sharva said, waving away the proffered tankard of ale.
"Ah, maybe one for the road then?" Bogrum chuckled knowingly. Yes, that would be the most likely scenario, wouldn't it?
"The guard captain from Skingrad, is he upstairs?" Sharva didn't have all night to chat. She was already tired and very hungry.
"Oh, you mean His Lordship?" Bogrum flapped his arms around in a mockery of courtly politeness. "He refused to sit with the 'common rabble'," the publican said with a sly smile. "Well, actually, they refused to sit with him." Sharva looked around at the disgruntled regulars. Ranaline was crying over an upturned bowl of meat surprise, Daenlin sat grumpily in the corner, and S'Krivva was positively hissing!
"Bad meat," S'Krivva said with flattened ears. Things were looking peachy. Sighing, Sharva plodded up the stairs. It seemed that Luciana Galena was already trying to have her way with the Skingrad emissary.
"Oh, look at those steel vambraces. The moon detailing. Priceless!" Luciana said, gushing over the Captain. "Are you sure these aren't for sale?"
"For the last time, no," the Captain said angrily. "If you don't leave me alone, I will have you charged with obstructing a guard on official duty." The young Captain – a face she didn't recognise – stood up as Sharva reached the landing. Luciana took this distraction to pick the Captain's pocket and creep back downstairs.
"You took your time, Orc," the Captain said, tiredness riding on his words.
Pissed off with the night's proceedings, she replied rudely. "I don't answer to anyone, Imperial. Certainly not Skingrad guards with a stick up their arses." The Captain harrumphed, but held his gaze.
"I am Danus Artellian, Captain of the Count's Personal Guard," Danus said airily.
"I'm the Hero of bloody Kvatch. So what?" Sharva wasn't impressed by his petty one-upmanship.
"Hmm, let me start again," the Captain said, relaxing his stance. "Count Hassildor personally asked me to escort you to Skingrad. On an urgent matter."
"The Count himself? Not Hal-Liurz or gro-Yarug?"
"So you do understand…" Danus looked thoughtful. Sharva, if anything, was troubled. This was a surprising development. Janus Hassildor, Count of Skingrad, was a deeply private man. And very difficult to work with. Her only face-to-face meetings with the Count had been either life-threating or…tragic. His Argonian steward Hal-Liurz usually handled all courtly matters. Still, she was intrigued.
"Give me the details and I might consider it."
"It is urgent and personal. That is all you need to know," Danus said, lips pressed firmly in disapproval. Sharva considered hassling him more, maybe even a small bribe, but something made her pause. Beneath all the bluster and self-importance, was a very loyal and very scared man. Something had turned his world on end. She was determined to find out what.
"Fine. Let's go." She started downstairs, eager to find out what was going on. And finally return to her dinnertime in peace. As she passed, Bogrum slipped some stale bread and a cheese wedge in her knapsack with a wink. "Mauloch bless you," Sharva said sincerely.
The Captain held the door open as she passed into the damp Bravil night and on to adventure.
They had been riding hard for three hours. Even the excitement of solving a mystery had long burnt out. Her leathers were soaked, cold and heavy against her skin, and her quiver jolted uncomfortably with every trot. Before leaving Bravil, Sharva had stuffed as much cheese and bread into her grumbling stomach as possible. She was now regretting this. But her travelling companion pushed them hard, seemingly unbothered by rain or fatigue.
Captain Artellian had set his face in a hard mask soon after leaving Bravil, and it had stayed this way throughout the journey. They were on an official mission, after all. She had tried to ward off sleep with conversation, but Danus remained silent as they rode on.
Sharva stifled a yawn, then almost fell off her horse. A quick hand grabbed her shoulder and hoisted back in the saddle. "Try to stay on the horse, you idiot," the Captain said gruffly.
"Oh, so you can talk," she said sleepily. Danus made an odd sound, somewhere between disgust and a chuckle.
"We are nearing Skingrad," the Imperial said, pointing in the distance. Indeed, as they crested the hill, she could see the tall spires and crenulations of Castle Skingrad peeping out of the woodland. Red banners hung from towers, bearing the city's moon heraldry. Skingrad was a pretty city, not like Bravil at all. Very wealthy, with well-dressed people and rich foods. And a mysterious Count. Sharva knew what he was, but honestly tried not to think too much about it.
"Keep moving," Danus said impatiently. "The Count expects us at the castle as soon as possible."
"I can't see the Count like this," Sharva said, ushering her horse to a stop. Rain still fell in patches, but the clouds had cleared enough to see that Masser and Secunda were nearing the horizon. It was one or two in the morning, perhaps later. She hadn't slept all night and felt ill from her improvised dinner.
"By the Nine…" The Captain sounded exasperated. "Fine. One hour, to refresh yourself." It pained him to delay his orders any further. Janus Hassildor was not a man to disappoint. Sharva grumbled but continued down the slope to Skingrad.
***
The stablemaster – an Orc named Ugak – greeted them at the gates. She didn't seem to be interested in the travellers, only their exhausted mounts.
"Poor beauties. Tilmo will have a fit." Ugak said, stroking the horses' muzzles as she stabled them. Sharva wondered if the Skingrad stablemaster had been born in Cyrodiil. Her accent was almost Colovian, but still carried the roughness of Wrothgar. As an outcast from the Skyrim strongholds, Sharva was always fascinated by her Cyrodillic Orc-sisters. It hadn't been easy for her to adjust to life without the Code of Malacath. A few months ago, a 'cultural misunderstanding' landed her in the Imperial City jail. It seemed an age has passed since then.
The stablemaster, finished with the horses, drew Captain Danus aside. The words they exchanged were hurried, frantic, and hushed beyond Sharva's hearing. Frowning, the Captain pressed a small bag of septims into Ugak's hand. Ugh, this whole secret thing was getting annoying.
"Come on," Danus said as the stablemaster walked away, septims jingling. "There's a room ready for you at the Two Sisters' Lodge." They passed though the wide ditch that separated Skingrad North from the poorer West. Very few guards patrolled the streets. Far less than usual. Odd.
The inn was very accommodating. Especially once Sharva mentioned she was on official Skingrad business. The owner Mog even brought up fresh wash water from the well and gave her a sweetroll to munch on while she waited. During this time, Mog had asked many, many questions. If Sharva hadn't been half delirious from lack of sleep, she would have asked questions in return. But she simply nodded non-committedly and shrugged into her best courtly clothes (a tatty Conjurer's Robe).
Within an hour, she was ready to set out again. Danus had tidied his hair and changed into a fresh surcoat, but the hard expression was still present. Sharva didn't blame him. She probably had a very similar frown on her face. "Let's get this over with," the Captain said grimly.
Somehow, she knew it wouldn't be that simple.
***
No guards patrolled the way up to the castle. Stranger still, the torches on the bridge to the Castle were unlit. Just what was going on here? Danus, face stoic and unmoving, revealed very little. When they reached the great castle gates, he drew out a small horn and blew three clear notes. The gates opened at once and they were quickly ushered inside.
"Captain!" The gatekeeper saluted and quickly added, "Ma'am".
"That will be all, guardsman," Danus said to the gatekeeper, "See that we are not disturbed." The gatekeeper saluted once more, then scurried off to the barracks.
"What in the name of Malacath is going on here?" Sharva said.
"Not here." Danus grabbed her arm roughly. He led her into the County Hall and up a flight of stairs. They passed the dining hall and private quarters, before finally stopping at the door to the Lord's Manor. With his free hand, he patted down his surcoat for a key that was no longer there.
Sharva was fed up. Damned if she was going to be paraded around like a prize horker! "Let go of me, you Imperial bastard." She tore her arm from his grasp, pushing him away with all her strength. Danus, caught off guard, stumbled and fell.
"Assaulting a guardsman is a serious offence," the Captain said, but his heart wasn't in it. Sharva bit back a scathing repose, instead offering a hand to the Imperial. To his credit, he took it without retaliation.
"His Grace should be waiting for you beyond this door," the Captain said as he smoothed down his surcoat. "I promise he will explain everything." In a quieter tone, he added, "Please, just hear what he has to say. These are hard times for Skingrad."
"I'll try, I guess," Sharva said as opened the locked door with a small cantrip. Volanaro and J'skar had helped her perfect that one. The Captain gave her a sad, uncharacteristic smile before closing it behind her.
The door led into a narrow corridor that ended in a vast, empty hall. She had never seen anything so grand in all her travels around Cyrodiil! Large braziers cast dancing shadows across the high archways. Fine embroidered banners and carpets, almost blood-like (and surely not unintentional), dominated the cold stonework. And at its terminus, a throne carved from ebony.
There sat the Count of Skingrad, Janus Hassildor, in all his glory.