Chapter 1
He stared at the blood as it drained from his clothes. Raindrops struck his face; blurring his vision and making him blink away the encroaching droplets and re-focus on the gaping wound in his thigh.
When he had pulled the arrow out of his flesh the barbs had torn at the outside layers, opening his injury even further. His head felt cool against the damp rock he leaned against, his hands searched the soggy grass around him, hoping to find a salve of some kind.
It was to no avail.
He would die here. He, Crassinious Diouros of the Imperial Legion would die in the wastes of Skyrim due to an arrow wound. It was embarrassing really. As his vision began to blur and the cold from the steady northern rainfall turned into a blissful numbing sensation the realization that he had been bested by a small remnant of the Stormcloaks reared in his mind. He had failed, unequivocally.
His job was to protect, and he failed to do even that. The dark thoughts continued to cloud his mind, casting a pall over his last moments. He closed his eyes, and listened to the gentle rains fall on the plains of Skyrim.
He awoke once more, staring upwards into the gaping maw of a wolf, struggling to breathe as fear overtook him and caused his heart to beat violently against his chest. It was at this point he recognized the sound of a crackling fire in the corner, and a warm blanket against his chest.
"Where am I?" He whispered into the dark confines of the room.
There was no reply, only the crackling of fire and the dull boom of thunder outdoors. He did not even know where he may have ended up; all he knew was that he was tired, exhausted and confused. He pulled back the blankets to reveal himself in his undergarments. A large bandage covered the wound in his thigh, and his other scratches and injuries had been rubbed with a gentle healing balm of some kind.
"Someone was looking out for me." He stated this blandly to the empty room. It was a small room. The fireplace dominated the surrounding furniture. A small bookcase stood aside it, and the table held a steaming pot of what he guessed was stew and a variety of breads and cheeses.
He stumbled from his cot and gently treaded along the floor. His sore and aching thigh tender and bruised, meaning he had been at rest for some time, but not long enough to fully recuperate. The bread was coarse and salty, and the stew within the kettle was viscous and brown, with carrots and potatoes floating throughout. It tasted good.
As he chewed he glanced around the room, looking for some sign of where he had been held for his recuperation from his injuries. He noted that the room seemed hewn from wood, not stone...this more than likely meant he was not in Markarth. It was also raining, which made him confident that he was in the southern climes of Skyrim. His Imperial Legion armor and weaponry were stacked neatly next to the fireplace. He noticed that even his sword and other tools had been oiled and maintained since he had last been awake.
"What in the world is happening here?" He rubbed his face, feeling smooth skin. He had even been shaved. He stood, walked over to a nearby chest of drawers and grabbed a simple shirt and trousers. It took some time to gingerly place his leg through the pants, but after some time he felt ready enough to go outside.
He hobbled towards the door, favoring his good leg, and cracked it open. A gust of rain heavy air pushed its way in, carrying with it all of the sounds of the outside world. He pushed harder on the door, expecting to find a nearby town guard to inquire as to his whereabouts, but there was nothing.
Trees, flowers, bushes and deer roamed the outside of the house, but no signs of civilization. There was no sound of children playing or barking dogs. No blacksmith's hammer echoed from nearby structures. He was seemingly alone.
A worn hitching post was next to the door, heavily used but obviously not currently in use. A wooden chair sat on the porch to his right, next to a small table with a lantern on it. He walked down the length of the porch, his leg fighting with him as the cold infested his atrophied muscles. A small vegetable garden and chicken coop were off to the side of the small house.
A stream ran nearby, looping around the rear end of the structure, and a practice dummy for archery lay across the rippling water. There was no sign of anyone else. Things were well-maintained and looked clean, so he knew there must have been someone there…but the mystery would plague him.
"Hello!" He yelled into the rain and misting clouds far above. He was greeted with his own echo and the gentle chirping of nearby birds.
"I need to think." He loped over to the partially cracked doorway and sat down near the fire to relieve the damp from his clothes, smelling the earth and rain on his skin. Soon another piece of bread was in his hand, followed by cheese and more soup. He was starving, ravenous and desperate for any type of sustenance that he could get.
A small book sat next to the pot, one he had not seen before. Common Medical Practices and Alchemical Benefits of Skyrim Flora, a beginner's textbook on healing.
"Well, lucky me then." Crassinious grabbed the book and sat down with an oomph, flicking through the pages that detailed the benefits of Purple Mountain Flower and the common methodology for easing a fever.
It was at this point he heard the footsteps. He pushed himself from the chair and stood at his full height, his weakened muscles shaking under the activity of the day. An older gentleman propped the door open with his staff. He appeared monkish, with a skull cap and a kindly face; Breton, with fair hair and blue eyes.
"Oh, you have awoken. Splendid." The man happily exclaimed, a smile creasing his worn face.
"I am Crassinious Diouros of the …" He began, trying to assert authority.
"…yes, and you are of the Imperial Legion…very good, very good." The old man waved his hands dismissively and sat with a groan on a nearby chair.
"I am Theodore Bloom, and you child, are in my debt."
Crassinious stared, not knowing what to say. It was then that his weakened leg gave out, sending him sprawling to the floor and causing Theodore to cry out in shock.