Hello everyone. This is a Skyrim story I've been thinking up for awhile. I hope to eventually have them travel and explore every corner of Skyrim! They will interact with and explore a certain area before moving on to another. Some songs featured in the story may be written by Anna Castiglioni, they are used with permission.
Falkreath was a good start for Darius' trip to Skyrim.
His horse, Dominion, clopped down the cobblestone road on metal-clad hooves. It had taken him here from the Imperial City and had grown very accustomed to Darius, his most common rider. The Imperial held the reins loosely, his hands resting on his lap. He only need lean his body slightly to signal the horse to respond to the curves in the road.
Falkreath was small; from his vantage point on a horse Darius could see most of it. (even in the dark.) Although he had not seen anything else of Skyrim, he assumed it was on the smaller side of the hold city scale. It was comprised of short, thatched roof, wooden houses on a stone foundation. He spotted a shop and inn, recognizable from their carved wooden signs. Several men and women milled around the village. A burly man split wood beside a house while two children dodged about him. They ran to a woman on her knees, weeding her home-front garden. A handful of guards patrolled up and down the road.
"Stop, outsider!" A city guard yanked on Dominion's reins, pulling him to a stop. The stallion whinnied in disagreement and bucked its head, but was quickly calmed by Darius. He had to hide his annoyance at the rude act of grabbing another man's horse. Darius knew of the Nord's infamous distrust for other races, and dared not scold the guard. Darius optimized that he was an Imperial, and this was a province under control by the Imperial Legion.
"Greetings, neighbor." Darius flashed a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I could ask the same, but without the pleasure." The guard's helmet seemed to leer at him. Darius gulped unintentionally, no sweet-talking his way out of this one. Even the elk on the guard's shield seem to stare with judging eyes.
"I'm just a traveler passing through." Darius swept an arm over his horse's saddle bags, which were brimming with supplies necessary to build a camp. The guard would spot hides, iron pots, a sleeping roll, and some food. "Come to hunt and fish in the lush, verdant Falkreath Hold. "
"And what of the armour you're wearing?" The guard sprang upon the chance to point out a fault. "Citizens don't wear steel armour, same for the mace you've got there!"
"You know better than I the bandits and beasts that roam the wilderness." Darius pursed his lips together and recoiled, showing offense that the guard would question his motives in an attempt to feign innocence.
The guard stood still, thinking. He did come from the Cyrodil road, not the Helgen road. It was very unlikely for any Stormcloak spy to act in the way he did. Perhaps he was telling the truth. "Alright, get going." The guard released his hold on the reins and stepped back for Darius to go forward. "Don't be causing any trouble during your time here. At this time, you'll probably want to book a bed at Dead Man's Drink. Any materials you need can be found at Gray Pine Goods. Don't linger too long."
"Thank you for your kindness!" Darius waved. If you can call it that... He mused within the confines of his thoughts. He pressed his heels into Dominion and it continued into Falkreath. Taking the advice of the guard, Darius tied his horse at Dead Man's Drink and headed inside.
The occupants of the inn barely took notice of him. Inside there were fewer than ten people, mostly old men and adult females. A man who must have been a bard played "Mogo's Mead" in the corner. Darius took a seat at an empty bar. It was quickly filled with a flustered ginger woman, running there across the building once she saw him sit down. When she saw him, she lit up. "Shor's bones...A handsome man in Falkreath!" Darius warmed at the compliment, even if she was just another flirting barmaid trying to get him to spend more gold. He didn't think he was unattractive, sporting heavy stubble around his lip and jaw. His short brown hair had a nice habit of curling into a gentle wave atop his head. Green eyes stood out against his face, like it would for any Imperial, Although... there was that nasty scar that cut into his forehead from the left side of his hair. Darius blinked his attention back to Nirn, where the barmaid was arguing with an old man in the corner.
"The meat is fresh, Dengeir..." She sighed, falling into her hands in frustration. Darius guessed she had gone through this conversation many times. "Maybe your sense of taste has withered with age?"
"Impertinence! You never would have talked to me like that when I was Jarl!" A withered voice responded from behind him. Darius' eyes widened slightly. The former Jarl?
"We had this same argument every week, even when you were Jarl." The barmaid said climatically. That seemed to shut the old man up, for he didn't respond and she turned to Darius. "Sorry about Dengeir. My name is Narri, is there anything I can get you, traveler?"
"A drink and a room for the night." Darius answered. Narri ducked under the bar and emitted some scuffling noises, but came back up with a bottle of Black-Briar Mead and a key marked "3".
"That will be thirty-five gold." She reported. Darius dug into his coin purse and paid for it immediately. "Thank you. Room Three is the one near the fireplace; it's yours for the day. If there is anything I can get you, let me know."
"There is one thing." Darius spoke up. Narri had begun to move away almost on instinct, and immediately returned to the bar. "I'm looking for work, have you got any leads?"
Narri's face dropped slightly. "Well, no... Falkreath isn't exactly the center of action in Skyrim, so there aren't any bounties out right now."
"How disappointing." Darius sighed, looking into his tankard. He flashed eyes above the rim to see a fidgeting Narri. He could easily tell she was debating whether or not to speak, so he gave her some time.
"There is one thing." Narri finally said. She looked around before returning to attention. "I feel terrible asking this of a stranger, but the people of Falkreath would be forever in your debt. You could stay as long as you like, and everyone would treat you like a hero in these parts."
"Don't be fooled about the type of man I am." Darius looked at her firmly. "I will help out in any way I can."
Narri's face broke out in a smile. "That is excellent! Skyrim could use more men like you, Imperial."
"Darius." Said man corrected her.
"Well Darius," Narri made sure to roll the name off her tongue. "There are a group of bandits kidnapping anyone foolish enough to leave the city's walls. Not much is known about them, but with the slave trade in Morrowind they're probably selling to them."
"Why would they do that?" Darius frowned. "There can't be many Argonians in these parts, and most Khajiit travel in armoured caravans. Anyone else won't survive long in Morrowind's climate."
"It's above me." Narri raised her hands in innocence, showing she couldn't discuss the topic much further. "Your best bet is to speak to the Jarl tomorrow morning. He's been trying to hunt them down for months."
"Thank you for your help, Narri." Darius passed her his empty tankard as he rose from his seat. He made his way to his room, followed by the jealous eyes of Narri.
"I have half a mind to ask to go with him..." She sighed, going about to cleaning his glass.
Darius saw the Jarl of Falkreath as a snake. From the way he looked to his posture and even his words, he was sly, cunning, and brash.
"Leave my longhouse, I don't want to speak to you!" Were the words that the Jarl greeted him with. Two Falkreath guards that Darius didn't notice originally stepped forward from the edges of the door and blocked his path.
"Excuse the Jarl," A female Altmer stepped in his path. "Any concerns you have can be directed upon me. I am Nenya, the Jarl's steward."
"I am here to offer my help in bringing the slaving group to justice." Darius wasted no words, trying to make his purpose as clear as possible.
"Oh!" Nenya's face brightened in the same way that Narri's did earlier. "Wow, a volunteer! This is something you need to speak to the Jarl personally about." Looking to the guards, Nenya waited until they had cleared before leading the Imperial to the throne and the snake upon it.
"So, you want to fix my slaving problem?" Jarl Siddgeir slouched in his throne, studying a clenched fist up idly. "I guess it's a slight issue after all. If they keep snatching all of my stock then there won't be anyone left to pay me taxes or serve me. Without my position as Jarl, I won't be able to reap the benefits. Frankly though, I've been enjoying the quiet around here lately." The Jarl looked up to see Darius and Nenya unamused, although the former showed it much more so. Darius clenched his fingers into his palm in restraint at the man's total lack of empathy or care for his subjects. "I see you're serious about this then... Well, I guess I could lay out a cash reward for you if you come back alive and with everyone." Siddgeir waved him off, expecting that to appease him.
"I have little use for gold." Darius crossed his arms firmly. "If you honestly expect me to take them all out alone, without an escort of any kind, you will need to put something else on the table."
The Jarl groaned and rolled his eyes. "Alright, I guess I have room for another Thane in my court. As Thane, you-"
"I have no use for fancy titles either." Darius continued, making Siddgeir scoff in frustration. "I want a favor from the Jarl of Falkreath, whoever it might be at the time I come to have it repayed."
"I despise your ideals of payment..." Jarl Siddgeir snarled at him, but Darius didn't flinch. "Alright, if it means maintaining my position as Jarl and returning my people to safety... I will owe you a single favor that is within my authority to grant. Is your greed finally satisfied?"
"Yes, in fact." As Darius walked out of the longhouse, he pulled his mace from his belt. "I am satisfied."
"Oh, and boy?" The Jarl called after Darius, causing him to stop and turn. "Slaughter them all..." The Jarl's face split into a sick grin that made Darius's stance weak.
When Darius left the longhouse, he immediately went to what looked like the blacksmith of the town. "Excuse me!" Darius called out, grabbing the man's attention. He left his workbench and grabbed a rag, cleaning his hands on the towel as he walked to the visitor.
"Name's Lod, I'm the blacksmith here. Have you seen a dog on the road?" The brutish Nord grunted simply.
"No, I haven't..." Darius frowned at the confusing question.
"I'm looking for a loyal companion, and people have reported seeing a big dog on the road recently. If you can bring him to me, there's some septims with your name on them."
"I'll keep my eyes open." Darius promised before raising his mace. "My mace has started to chip and bend over the years; do you think you could return it to its old strength?"
"Getting a lot of use out of it?" Lod joked, looking to Darius. He met a hard expression. "On second thought, I don't want to know. This should be an easy job, I'll be done right away."
"I'll go for a quick trip to Grey Pine Goods, and then I will be back for it." Darius said, to which Lod agreed. He took his time going across the town, knowing that he needed to give Lod as much time as possible
Dominion trotted slowly through the brush. Darius inspected the surrounding area carefully. The thick trees made it impossible to see far and practically begged for a sneak attack, so he chose to fit his shield onto his arm and grasp his mace with the other.
"They've got to be here somewhere, Dom..." Darius spoke to his horse. As was his old habit, whenever he was anxious or nervous he would spend awhile speaking to it. "Nothing around here makes tracks like that but a chain gang, and the heavily broken bush leads up here..."
Finally, Darius found the tracks end at a small pass between two large hills. He walked Dominion a short distance away for safety before returning on foot. He then checked his armour's fit one last fit before sprinting towards the pass. "Let the sneaking be left to those who can't handle their problems head on". His father had always quoted in his childhood, although he never knew who from.