Elder Scrolls IV: The Seeds of Fate

I

"He's such a precious little boy."

The little baby Dunmer looked up into the faces of his parents from his mother's arms, cooing and giggling at their funny antics.

The father nodded, "He is. We're truly blessed to have been gifted with such a wonderful child."

The mother looked at her husband, "What should we name him, Vallen?"

The father smiled thoughtfully as he wiggled his finger in front of the baby boy, watching him awkwardly grab at it, "We'll name him 'Arken', after your grandfather, Darina. What do you think?"

Wake up…

The mother smiled, "I think it's a wonderful name. I know he'll be proud to carry it."

The father looked at the baby as he clutched his finger in tiny hands, "This boy is destined for great things, Darina. I can feel it in my bones."

Wake up, lad. We've arrived…

The mother smiled down at her child, "I hope we'll get to see what a great man he grows up to be one day."

Wake up, lad…

Arken's head came up with a start and he looked around. Same place as before. He'd been confined to the cargo hold of this ship for days that each seemed a century long. Over in the corner, someone else was sleeping under a blanket, muttering quietly as they tossed and turned in a fitful dream. They'd been sleeping for most of the journey.

Jiub, an older Dunmer with a long scar over his right eye, stood over Arken, gently shaking him awake, "Wake up, lad. I heard them say we've arrived in Morrowind."

Arken sat up on the floor and stretched his arms, "How long have I been out?"

Jiub shrugged, "Not long. Just the last few hours." He leaned back on a wooden barrel, "The guard will probably be along soon to come get one of us."

Arken nodded sourly as he recalled the reason he was here in the first place. He'd been born in Cyrodill, and was rightly a citizen of that province. He was being deported from Cyrodill to Morrowind on account of one dirty little detail. Arken was a thief, and a bloody good one, too. Orphaned at the tender age of seven, which is barely out of the womb by Dunmer standards, Arken had been forced to steal to survive. As he grew older, he continued to steal, since it was what he was good at, and amassed a good sum of wealth in doing so.

Then that one day came when he got cocky. Arken tried to rob Castle Leyawin without casing the security inside the castle. That, and Leyawin was his home at the time, so the guards all recognized him. He was caught while trying to escape with the goods by a guard patrol he hadn't accounted for. When the guards recognized him, they decided to search his house, and in so doing unearthed a king's ransom in stolen goods. They called in the Imperial Legion, who decided to simply ship him to Morrowind and get him as far away from them as possible. Now, Arken was on a boat, pulling into some port on Vardenfell, where he was going to have to start a new life from scratch.

Arken looked at Jiub, "Who do you think they'll take here?"

Jiub just shrugged, "Don't know." He jerked his thumb back to the other prisoner, the one still sleeping, "It's either you or them. Maybe both. I know they're planning to drop me off at Gnar Mok, so I'm certainly not getting off here."

Arken nodded and cracked his neck, stiff from improper support while sleeping. He was about to make a comment when he heard boot steps from the deck above.

The guard stepped down the ladder into the hold and pointed at Arken, "You there. The younger Dark Elf. Yeah, you. Let's go. This is where you're getting off. Come on, move it."

Jiub looked at the guard, then at Arken, "Better do what he says. You know how fussy he gets."

Arken nodded and extended his hand to the older Dunmer, "It was nice meeting you, Jiub. Maybe I'll see you around the island sometime."

Jiub just shook his hand and shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. Who knows. Good luck, lad."

The guard urged him on as Arken walked over to him, "Let's go. We don't have all day." He led Arken through the middle deck and over to a ladder leading topside before turning around to face him again, "On deck, prison rat. Move it."

Arken scowled at the guard for a moment before he climbed the ladder and pushed the hatch open, shielding his eyes from the harsh rays of the sun that he hadn't seen in several days. He climbed onto the deck, blinking the brightness out of his eyes, and walked up to the captain near the gangway to the dock.

The captain, a Redguard, nodded to Arken as he approached, "You're order says to drop you off here. They'll want to record you at the census office before you're released. It's right down at the end of the dock."

Arken looked around at the small port town they'd put in to, "What is this place?"

The captain looked out at the town, "Seyda Neen. We're at the southwestern corner of Vardenfell. The roads here lead to Balmora, Vivec, Gnar Mok, and a few other places."

Arken nodded and looked at the captain, "Thanks for the help. And by the by, I think your guard woke up with a stick up his backside this morning."

The captain shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, "Well, he may not be a people-person, but he's a good sailor. He doesn't give me reason to complain about his work. Good luck to you, kid." He called down the hatch to the guard as Arken walked down the gangway, "Get that other prisoner up here. Not the Dark Elf, the other one."

Arken walked to the building at the end of the dock where he was met by an Imperial Legion soldier. His first instinct was to turn and put some distance between him and the soldier, but he restrained that impulse upon recalling that his record in Morrowind was clean. The guard eyed Arken up and down once before opening the door and allowing him in. Inside was another guard and an official in brown robes standing next to a table. Arken assumed that he was the man to talk to, so he approached him.

The official looked up from a parchment he was reading, "Ah…yes…the deportee. I have your deportation order, but no other information on you besides that. I'll need to record a few things before you're released." He picked up a quill from the inkwell, "Your name?"

"Arken Dralkes, son of Vallen and Darina Dralkes."

The man jotted it down, "Place of birth?"

"Skingrad, Cyrodill."

The official continued writing, "Birth sign?"

Arken smirked, "The Thief."

The official stopped writing and looked at Arken over the top of the page, "Interesting. I do hope you won't be taking inspiration from that sign." He looked back at the parchment, "Do you have any skills that could be of use?"

Arken shrugged, "I know a little about blacksmithing, but I know mostly blade craft and combat." He neglected to mention that he was an able pickpocket and infiltrator.

The official continued writing for a moment before pounding a stamp in the corner of the parchment and handing it to Arken, "Show these to the guard captain to finish your release. And mind that you behave yourself here. You were already deported from Cyrodill, so don't force us to have to deport you from Morrowind, as well."

Arken gave him a disinterested nod as he accepted the paper, "I'll keep that in mind." Arken went through the door that the guard opened for him and into the empty room beyond. He went around the corner into a small dining area, warily eying the items in the room. He'd need some things to get started here, and he knew full well that the census office wouldn't notice a few things going missing. He snatched up a dagger that was lying on the table and looked it over. It had a decent edge and was in good condition, so he stashed it in his pocket, along with the dozen loose coins someone had carelessly left on the table. After using his hidden lockpick to open and empty a small box with more drakes in it, Arken went through the door into the next building, where he found the guard captain he was supposed to talk to.

Arken handed the guard his papers, "I was told you need these."

The guard snatched the paper from Arken's hand and looked it over for a long moment before taking a small pouch from the desk behind him and tossing it to Arken, "That's the full release fee. Now get a move on. I'm expecting someone." Not wasting anymore time around the "charming" guard captain, Arken went through the door on the opposite end of the room and out of the building, looking around at the street he'd come out on. Seyda Neen was a quiet little town, it seemed. Arken sighed as he looked at the people milling around the area. Not much going on here, which was didn't bode well for someone like him. He just shrugged. This wasn't the only city on the island. One of them had to be sporting a little more action. Only time would tell. Arken secured the pouch of gold to his belt as he started down the street. His new life had begun.

------------

Arken drew his dagger as he cautiously opened the cave door and crept in. The interior of the cave was dark and damp, the darkness occasionally broken by sputtering torchlight. Arken's biggest problem right now was that he had no work, meaning no way to acquire gold to spend. Besides thievery, the only thing he had any experience at was as an adventurer. Back in Leyawin, he was fairly well known as an expert in entering caves, ruins, and forts to acquire the treasures they often held. Most of the time, he would go kill off a bandit ring or marauder band and sell what equipment they had that was worth anything. Arken resigned himself to doing the same thing here in Morrowind until he could get some drakes in his pocket. He'd heard around town that some shady sorts ran a racket out of a nearby cave, Addamasartus Cave. It was the best place to start.

Arken didn't get far into the cave before someone caught notice of him. He heard someone calling at him and saw a Dunmer woman brandishing a whitish dagger. She charged at him and thrust forward with her blade when she closed the distance. Arken deftly sidestepped her attack, but her retaliation took him by surprise. She changed her thrust into a slash at Arken's arm, cutting across his bicep. Arken stepped back and grabbed the wound, stemming the bleeding. The woman attacked again with another slash. This time Arken dodged back from the slash and spun around behind her, jamming his own dagger into her back between her shoulder blades. She doubled over and fell to the dirt floor motionless.

Arken took a moment to catch his breath and look at his arm. The cut was shallow, but bleeding profusely. Arken ripped the sleeve off of the Dunmer woman's shirt to make a hasty bandage before searching her body for anything of value. Besides a few spare drakes and the weapon she was using, the only other item Arken found was a small key in her pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it in the cavern's low light. The key was small, thin, and covered in brown rust. Arken shrugged and slipped it into his pocket. It might unlock something of value further into the cave. He went to the door she was guarding and gave it a push, frowning when the door's only response was a hard rattle. Arken looked around the room briefly before quickly ramming his shoulder against the door and breaking the lock loose from the rotted wood. He cracked the door open and cautiously peered inside, checking to see if anyone had heard his entrance. After assuring himself that he was still as yet undiscovered, he slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

Arken now had a choice. The wooden walkway in front of him split in two directions. On his right, he could descend deeper into the cave. On his left, a set of wooden stairs led up to what looked like a door. Tentatively, Arken started up to the left, mostly on the grounds that it was better lit. He kept in a low crouch and did his best to stay quiet, not knowing what other tenants the cave supported. He mounted the stairs and came to a locked wooden door. He looked between the boards and furrowed his brow at what he saw. Behind the door, there were two Argonians and a Khajiit with sandy fur with brown strakes starting just above his eyes and descending his back. All three were thin, sickly, and barely dressed. Arken checked his back to make sure no one was behind him before investigating further.

He knocked on the door lightly and waved to the Khajiit, "Hey, over here."

The Khajiit looked around at hearing a voice, and his ears dropped back when he saw Arken, "Oh, no. Please, have mercy…"

Arken shook his head, "I'm not going to hurt you. Who are you guys? What are you doing here?"

The Khajiit looked at Arken more closely and his ears perked up, "You…you are not one of them. Who are you?"

"That depends on who you are."

The Khajiit nodded to him, "My name is Ra'Jharra. I am…I was a dockworker in Seyda Neen before these scoundrels got their filthy paws on me. Now, I am nothing more than wares to be sold or traded."

Arken frowned, "Wares? What do you mean?" He thought for a moment before it came to him, "You're a slave?"

Ra'Jharra's grim nod was telling enough. Arken just stood there, looking at these poor people, flabbergasted at the concept that they were merely property to be bought, sold, or traded at their owner's whim. Slavery was illegal in the Empire, one of the few laws Arken actually abided by, though it seemed that things were drastically different in this province. Had these slaves been normal people, Arken would simply have shrugged and left them to their own problems. But as he looked at these poor souls, locked up like animals, he felt something of a kinship to them. The Legion had taken his life from him and sent him to this Oblivion-forsaken land, just as these poor beings had had their lives stripped from them so mercilessly. A resolve formed in Arken's heart and mind as he slowly pulled the small, rusty key from his pocket and looked at it. These people deserved more than this. No one, no matter what race, deserved a life of forced servitude. Arken resolved that as long as he was here in Morrowind, however long that would be, he would see to it that this practice was ended.

Arken looked at Ra'Jharra, "I'm getting you out of here." He slid the key into the lock and turned to open the door.

Ra'Jharra should have been overjoyed, but his response was unusual, "It will do no good." He held up his right arm, displaying a shimmering metal bracer, "Unless you can remove these, also, than it will accomplish nothing. These are magically tied to an amulet worn by the master. They will harm us if we go too far from him."

Arken grabbed the Khajiit's arm to look at the bracer. After a quick examination, he discovered that the keyhole on the bracers was identical to the one on the lock. He stuck the key in and turned, rewarded with a quiet click and the bracer falling open.

Ra'Jharra's eyes widened and his ears perked up when he saw the bracer fall to the dirt floor, "You…you have freed me. I cannot thank you enough, kind sir."

Arken waved away the comment as he unlocked the bracers on the Argonians, "Don't worry about it. No one deserves a slave's life."

As the Argonians quietly escaped the cave, Ra'Jharra stayed behind, "What is your name, sir?"

Arken cocked an eyebrow as he pocketed the key, "Arken. Arken Dralkes."

Ra'Jharra walked up to him and bowed, "Arken Dralkes, in return for your great gift of my freedom, I offer you my service, such as it is, until death or such time as you release me."

Arken shook his head adamantly, "If I take you into my service, I'd be no better than the mongrels who captured you. Go home. Go back to your life."

Ra'Jharra stepped back and motioned to himself, "What you see is all that I have. I have nothing. And my service to you is of my own choosing, not against my will." He bowed to one knee and looked up at the young Dunmer, "This is all I can offer. Please, allow me to repay you for the life you have returned to me."

Arken frowned. There was obviously no persuading this cat from what he'd made up his mind to. He never really saw himself as the type to have a servant, mostly because he never really wanted anyone relying on him for anything. All he could do was let this Khajiit scratch his itch and then release him as soon as possible.

Arken looked at Ra'Jharra, "Can you fight?"

Ra'Jharra nodded, "I am not without skills. I have claimed my fair share of bandits and brigands in my time."

Arken nodded hesitantly, "Alright." He took the white dagger he'd taken from the Dunmer woman from his pocket and handed it to Ra'Jharra, "You know how to use one of these?" Ra'Jharra nodded confidently as he stood and accepted the dagger.

"Good. Now stay behind me and keep your distance. If I need help, I'll signal for you." Without another word, Arken drew his own dagger and turned to leave the cage. He descended the wooden steps, coming within view of a small pond with a boardwalk build over it. As he went, Arken didn't hear any footsteps behind him, but a quick check over his shoulder confirmed that Ra'Jharra was indeed following. Arken made a mental note: the cat could move quietly. That could prove useful in the future.

Arken came to a stop in the mouth of the cavern. There was someone on the boardwalk, another Dunmer in brown robes. Arken waved back at Ra'Jharra, signaling him to keep quiet and stay out of sight. He slinked toward the Dunmer, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

He failed. Arken's foot landed on a loose stone that gave under his weight. His foot slipped out from under him, causing him to inadvertently kick a bunch of pebbles into the pond. The Dunmer turned around with a start at the noise and pointed at Arken, shouting something about an intruder and a few words Arken couldn't understand. Not wasting anymore time with stealth, Arken stood and charged the Dunmer. His advance was rudely halted when the Dunmer extended his hand toward Arken, lighting off a fireball that blasted him back several feet. Arken jumped to his feet and ripped his burning shirt off, tossing it into the water. As the Dunmer extended his hand toward Arken again, a white dagger flew out of nowhere and stabbed him squarely in the chest, dropping the robed Dunmer dead on the floor.

Arken furrowed his brow, wondering what had just happened, when another weapon flew by him from a different direction. He turned to face the new threat and raised his dagger in defense. It was another Dark Elf woman, holding several small throwing stars and rearing back to throw one. She flung it with perfect spin aimed squarely at Arken. The young Dunmer dove forward and rolled underneath the star as it flew over him and embedded in the wall. He rolled to his feet and sprinted at the woman, closing the distance before she could throw another star. Arken tackled her to the ground, jamming his dagger into the base of her neck on the way down. He pulled the blade out and cleaned the blood off on her clothes before standing up and looking back for Ra'Jharra. He found the Khajiit removing his dagger from the robed Dunmer's chest.

Arken walked up to him, panting lightly from his brief exertion, "How'd you do that?"

Ra'Jharra held up the dagger and balanced it at the hilt on one finger, "Chitin weapons are light, yet strong. This dagger is well balanced; perfect for throwing."

Arken nodded, "You seem to know a thing or two about throwing weapons."

The Khajiit nodded as he sheathed the dagger, "To be honest, I am better at throwing them then swinging them."

Arken shrugged, "Well, to each, his own." He pointed at a torch on the boardwalk, "Grab that torch and let's see what's in this cave." Ra'Jharra did as he was bidden and pulled the torch from its holder as Arken walked back into the dark part of the cave the woman was guarding. Ra'Jharra brought the light over and revealed what the darkness hid. There was a stack of crates as high as Arken was tall, as well as a small chest and a number of loose items scattered around.

Arken smiled and clapped his hands together, "Jackpot!" He lifted the lid on one crate and started rummaging through it.

Ra'Jharra nodded as he used the torch to light another and started looking in another crate, "So this is why you're here?"

Arken nodded as he pulled out a new shirt and slipped it on, "Pretty much. This is what I do. You might call me an adventurer, of sorts." Arken looked down at the shirt and straightened it, "I do that…among other things."

Ra'Jharra looked at Arken out of the corner of his eye as he inspected the lock on the chest, "What sort of other things, pray tell?"

Arken shrugged, figuring airing the dirty laundry might scare the Khajiit out of his servant vow, "Might as well be out with it. I'm a thief, which was actually what wound me up here in Morrowind in the first place."

Ra'Jharra nodded nonchalantly, his ears perking up as he heard the chest's lock tumblers trip, "Deported, eh? I know the feeling."

Arken looked up from the crate he was digging through at the Khajiit, "What do you mean you know the feeling?"

Ra'Jharra opened the chest and ran his hand over the gold coins inside, "I was a small-time pickpocket and pilferer back in Elsweyr. I was deported here when I tried to pick the pocket of a Legion captain. That's why I've been a dockworker for the last ten years."

Arken's eyes widened at what he heard. Maybe he could get to like this cat after all. He dropped the lid of the crate and leaned on the side, facing Ra'Jharra.

"We're you successful at all?"

The Khajiit scoffed, "If I was successful, do you think I would be here, loading boxes onto ships all day?"

Arken nodded, "Good point." He crossed his arms, "How does this sound to you? You teach me what you know about marksmanship and sneaking, and I'll show you what I know about blade craft and successful thieving."

Ra'Jharra looked from the chest of gold to Arken, "If you were so successful, how did you wind up here in Morrowind?"

Arken shrugged, "I got cocky. That's all there is to it. But before that, I had quite the fortune from stolen goods." He stood and walked over to Ra'Jharra, "So what do you say?"

Ra'Jharra stood and extended a clawed hand to Arken, "Agreed." The two sealed the deal with a handshake and went back to ransacking the crates and goods. It was a good haul. They were able to find a pair of steel longswords to arm themselves with instead of shoddy daggers, as well as supplies to feed themselves for a while and a fair sum of gold to sustain them. In addition to all that, the rest of the goods they pulled from the cave went for decent prices at the local trader shop. Arken and Ra'Jharra walked out of the shop each with a full suit of chitin armor and a number of various weapons they'd need, and still had a decent amount of money to spare. Arken smiled as he secured the pouch of gold to his belt. It was a good start. If he kept on this path, and maybe add a few lucrative shortcuts, he would have the fortune he'd lost, and then some, within a few short years. The very next morning, Ra'Jharra packed their things before they set out for the town called Balmora. There was a whole new world out there just waiting for them, and neither was going to decline the invitation.