The water poured from the flagon until the cup was filled to the brim. He set the glass bottle down on the table and gripped the handle of the metal tankard and lifted it to his lips, drinking until half of the contents were gone. He set the cup down and held it between both hands, looking down into what was left of the contents. His face mirrored in the water; the almost black color of his scaly and smooth skin of his long muzzled Argonian face looked back at him. Two long pallid horns protruded from the back of his head. His thin and toned framed hunched over the glass as he stared down.
He'd been sitting there for half an hour sorting through the past twenty four hours. The mass of things he'd seen were baffling to say the least. The last thing he expected when crossing the border into Skyrim was to be ambushed. Moments after crossing the border a station of archers who'd been lying in wait underneath the foliage around the road appeared around him in an enclosed circle and aimed their drawn bows directly at him. His surprise was surpassed when he found that this was no band of thieves; this was the Imperial Army, the military force of Skyrim.
And he was under arrest.
His weapons were confiscated and he was put in binds, then filed onto one of two horse carts carrying groups of other arrested people. The soldier who bound him told him he was under arrest for being a Stormcloak traitor. He had no idea what a Stormcloak was, but when he tried to tell them, his words fell on deaf ears.
A long cart ride followed. In that time, the people on the cart with him had introduced themselves and had been surprisingly friendly. They explained to him all about the Imperial Army, the Stormcloaks and the Civil War happening in Skyrim. All about the Stormcloaks desire to have Skyrim attain independence from the Empire that ruled over it so that they could worship the god Talos, which was currently against Skyrim's law. How the leader of the Stormcloaks lead them to attain this goal, and how the war began when he killed Skyrim's high king.
He just sat and listened, absorbing the information without saying a word. It was all too much and too unexpected. He had no idea what to say or what to do. The only thing he gathered from the story he'd just heard was that he'd been in this country for mere moments and had been dragged into their politics and a war he had no idea was happening.
The surprises didn't stop there. After a twenty hour cart ride, they arrived in some small village called Helgen and were lined up for execution. He was almost numb when he heard he was about to be put to death. It helped to balm the panic that would normally come from such news, but it also kept his mind from working smoothly enough to try and find a way to escape. He followed obediently when he was told to approach the chopping block. The logical side of him told him not to, but his logic was muddled away in the sea of things happening, like his senses were drowning and weren't trying to find the surface of the water because they couldn't tell which way was up.
And then like some kind of an angel that knew of his distress and came to save him, something came from the sky and landed just above him, knocking the executioner to his knees and stopping the axe that was close to ending his life. It stared down at everyone with crimson eyes, snaking its scaly, onyx colored neck downward. Then it was like the angel that came down had fallen, it opened its mouth and knocked everyone back with a shout, and stones fell down from the sky like a hailstorm.
It was a dragon.
From there, his muddled mind followed blindly as someone showed him the way to safety. Entering the safety of the town's keep, the person, who turned out to be a Nord member off the Imperial Army, cut the binds that held him and helped him find some weapons before leading him through the keep, and eventually finding their way out of the city though underground caverns and the safety of the Skyrim wilderness.
The logical side of his mind would have found it harder to trust one of the members of the army that had arrested him and tried to put him to death, but his also knew that this particular individual could be trusted to at least get him out of this place. After all, he was a stranger to this person, and yet he'd guided him to safety instead of leaving him behind to save himself.
The soldier introduced himself as Hadvar. He was friendly and he felt sincerity in his voice when he spoke. He managed to speak long enough to tell the man that his name was Tatsuo. Hadvar said there was another town called Riverwood close by and that his Uncle Alvor lived there and would take them in. Tatsuo's mind was still muddled with the experiences he'd endured in such a short time, but he had enough senses to judge that he could trust this man and followed him. It was partially by choice and partially because he had no other choice. He couldn't think straight and was in a new land where he knew nothing. He needed somewhere to go and had to follow someone who was offering him hospitality.
Following the road for two hours led them to a small town with a river running through it. Tatsuo followed Hadvar into the city and to the Blacksmith's, as his uncle was the blacksmith.
Tatsuo was welcomed as openly as Hadvar to come inside by Alvor and his wife, as well as their small daughter. Tatsuo just stood there while Hadvar explained everything to Alvor and his family. He only nodded politely when he was introduced to everyone, but said nothing.
Once Hadvar finished his story, Alvor and his wife offered for he and Tatsuo to stay the night. Hadvar accepted, but Tatsuo politely declined the offer, speaking for the first time since he arrived. They tried to insist, but he couldn't take advantage of them. He asked if there was an inn nearby and that he would stay there because it was more appropriate. They told him about the Sleeping Giant Inn across the street and he went there and rented the room.
The room he sat in right now.
He felt much calmer than he had since all this began. His nerves were relaxed and his brain was clear now that he'd had time to process everything that happened. He stared without seeing into the tankard he held in his hands. He sat with his arms on the small, round wooden table, slightly hunched over. The small, cozy size of the room and the warm lighting given off by the single candle in the middle of the table was comforting. Like the walls were hugging him and the lighting was warming him. He breathed slowly and rhythmically, keeping his heart at a normal pace and giving him a sense of peace. Something he hadn't felt since he left Black Marsh a fortnight before.
Coming to Skyrim was something he decided on when he felt there was nothing left for him in Black Marsh. He lived in a comfortable two bedroom house in a village in Black Marsh, where his father ran a Blacksmith shop. His father taught him the Blacksmithing trade as he grew up. As a result, Tatsuo knew how to mine and smelt ore, and make weapons and armor. He was also taught how to use a sword, as his father was a formidable swordsman.
Those were the only uses his father ever had.
He remembered nothing of his mother. His father never talked of her unless it was to say something spiteful. The only reason Tatsuo knew what happened to her was because his Aunt told him when he was old enough to understand. Though a lot of details were unclear and some of the story floated around as a rumor, he knew that she had left one night to get away from her husband. She needed to get away from him because of his verbally and physically abusive nature. A week after she disappeared, a messenger from two towns over brought news that she'd passed away after being attacked by wild animals. She was buried back home.
Tatsuo grew up hearing rumor after rumor about his mother. A lot of people said they didn't blame her for running away because they knew how her husband was and she was right to get away from him. Some people said they didn't understand why she left and it couldn't have been because of him because he was a nice person. But more than anything, everyone would talk about how she had abandoned her son to save herself. Most people would treat Tatsuo like every other child in the village, but some of them would look at him with pity. He always felt uncomfortable receiving so much attention, whether good or bad.
But that was more attention than he ever got from his father.
Even when his father was there, it was like he wasn't. He wasn't mean or abusive most of the time; he just didn't care. He taught Tatsuo the Blacksmith trading to have another worker to lower his workload, which he told Tatsuo when he had been learning for a while. Other than that, he received no attention from his father. It was like they were roommates left to their own devices, not father and son. But his father was still the authority figure; he made sure Tatsuo knew that. His father was stubborn and quick tempered. Everything was fine if Tatsuo did as he was told. In the ten years he lived with just his father before he passed away, he only hit him twice. Once when Tatsuo forgot to lock the weapons chest, his father punched his face. It left a bruise on his cheek, but because it wasn't a common occurrence, Tatsuo was able to convince those who saw it that it was nothing. The second and last time was when he dropped a hot iron that burned a hole in the floor. He received a full body beating for that one.
And that was the last time, as his father passed away when he was twelve years old.
Running his father's Blacksmith Shop after his passing became his livelihood. But it wasn't a wanted one; it was an inherited one. He decided to stay and run it because he was too young to travel, and had no money to fund a move to a new place. Even though he never desired the Blacksmith trade, his father taught him how to run it, and he was able to run it on his own even after his father passed. Without his father, Tatsuo was left with no family other than an Aunt that made her living as a traveling trader. She had a home in the same village as Tatsuo, but she was only there about two months out of the year. He did not know her well, only seeing her a handful of times as he grew up. When Tatsuo's father passed away, leaving him without parents, his aunt considered giving up her trade to help him run the Blacksmith shop and raise him, believing he was still too young to be on his own. After some discussion between them, it was decided against for various reasons. Mainly that Tatsuo was more comfortable on his own than with someone he barely knew. Even though he didn't know her well, he still cared about her life and didn't want her to give up her trade when he could run the Blacksmith shop by himself.
Tatsuo was generally calm and quiet. Not because of how he was raised, but because he was usually more fond of listening then talking. Though his lack of speech was also because no one ever listened. He never knew whether or not he would be fond of talking because he never felt like anyone was listening. Despite how he was treated growing up, he was a very caring and sensitive person. He had a hard time seeing someone in trouble and always tried to help when he could. He was never comfortable letting people give up something for him. It wasn't that he couldn't accept help, but that he never wanted anyone losing something of theirs for his sake. He was also very gentle. Despite the fact that he'd been taught to fight with a sword and was a formidable swordsman, he never wanted to use it to hurt anyone. He would protect his own life, but not unless he had to.
Being raised the way he had didn't change his nature, but it left him feeling that he had no one. No one cared enough for him to stay by him, and he was left alone.
Which is why he decided to leave Black Marsh; he was nineteen and ready to travel, so he came to Skyrim.
He didn't know what he was expecting to find when he came here, but certainly not this.
Tatsuo exhaled slowly and heavily before raising the tankard and downing the remaining contents. He placed the cup down then stood from the wooden chair he sat in, pushing it back with a creak. His mind was clear, and he finally accepted what was happening. He'd come to Skyrim knowing nothing of the war going on and had almost been put to death by a hasty government. He wouldn't consider going back to Black Marsh though. It may be safer there, but there was nothing there for him. Anything that may have been there, like his old home, were things he didn't want or need anymore. He had no ultimate goal or plan in mind, and would instead see Skyrim as he planned and try to find something better than what he had.
The first step would be to go back to Helgen and retrieve his equipment. His weapons had been confiscated when he was arrested and he wanted to see if he could get them back. Helgen's current state of decimation showed that his weapons may not be in one piece, but he needed to try. He'd become accustomed to those weapons, as most swordsman do, and wanted to get them back.
Being as late as it was, he knew he needed to sleep if her were to get up early enough to travel to and from Helgen and have enough time to search for his weapons. He walked over to the bed and slid down onto it, laying on his side and facing the wall. His mind was still replaying all of his thoughts but his eyes closed without any coaxing. He fell to sleep quickly and slept deeply till morning.