Morndas, 18th of Last Seed, 4E,201, 6am
Bhaisal groaned as he slowly rolled onto his side in his uncomfortably stiff bed. He shivered and pulled the fur blanket up to his chin. Skyrim disagreed with Bhaisal. A lot. Bugger this cold, Bhaisal thought to himself. After a few moments he managed to force himself to rise. He drew his brown robe around his shoulders and descended the stairs of the Grey Quarter apartment he shared with his roommate, Dwelynn Rendar, who had so graciously agreed to let him stay there. As he arrived on the ground floor, Dwelynn was serving up some beef stew, and passed a bowl to Bhaisal. They ate in silence, as they always did. Neither were much for conversation. At least with each other. After finishing his meal, Bhaisal returned to his room and donned his full priest's regalia, lit a lantern and set off for the shrine of the Reclamations.
The day was cold and miserable, as it always is in Windhelm for a Dunmer. Bhaisal arrived at the makeshift shrine that he and Uthrel had set up when they arrived from Morrowind and began his daily meditations. After a couple of hours, the cold finally proved too much, and Bhaisal retreated to the New Gnisis Cornerclub, where he dispenses guidance to the Dunmer of Windhelm. At around noon, as Bhaisal was breaking for lunch, Malthyr walked up to him, his face troubled.
"Look, Bhaisal, I usually don't believe in gettin' involved in other people's business, but ol' Revyn was lookin' mighty troubled earlier when he come in 'ere for breakfast. Might be you could 'elp 'im if you dropped in."
A tired smile graced Bhaisal's mouth. "Thank you for the information, Malthyr. I will be sure to drop in on Revyn after I finish my lunch."
True to his word, upon finishing his lunch, Bhaisal set off through the blizzard to Sadri's Used Wares. Bhaisal found Revyn sitting behind his desk, running his hand through his hair nervously. "Revyn, what's the matter?"
"What's the matter? What's the matter? What's the matter is that I purchased a ring from that Bosmer swit who came through here the other day."
Bhaisal raised his eyebrow. "Was it a fake? Did he outwit the wily Sadri?"
"The ring was stolen, Bhaisal. From Viola Giordano."
Bhaisal grimaced. He'd only met Giordano a few times, but she'd proven to be one of the more hostile Nords to the presence of the Dunmer refugees. She'd lodged fifteen complaints to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak this month alone. And those are just the ones the Jarl decided warranted action.
"Clearly we cannot simply return it, she'd go running for the Jarl, and he'd have your head, Revyn, but perhaps I can slip it into her house. Make her think she simply misplaced it. She gets her ring back, the Jarl never hears about anything. We'd all win."
"Ah! Thank you, Bhaisal. Thank you! Take the ring. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can breathe easily again." Revyn passed the ring to Bhaisal, who slipped it into his pocket.
Bhaisal knocked hesitantly on the door of Giordano's residence in the Stone Quarter. He grimaced. This was going to be unpleasant. The door opened. Giordano's face looked as though she had just smelled the droppings of diseased horker.
"Ugh. What do you want, Indarys?"
Bhaisal used up every ounce of charisma he possessed to don a smile. "I'm here to discuss your recent complaints about my people. I want to make sure we cause as little inconvenience to our benevolent hosts as possible, so I'd like to resolve the issues quickly and amicably."
"It's about time one of you greyskins acknowledged your place here. Come in, but don't touch nothing."
Giordano allowed Bhaisal to enter, and then shut the door before walking towards her kitchen. This was the first time he had set foot in one of the manors of the Stone Quarter. It was lavish. The first floor alone had more space than his entire apartment. Doubled. Giordano began to make some tea.
"We need to talk about that Malthyr character, Indarys. He keeps coming to the market in the Stone Quarter to buy supplies. You greyskins have your own merchants."
Oh, but this will be fun, thought Bhaisal. "We have our own merchants, yes, but they aren't allowed to sell quality Nordic goods like yours are. You can't blame a man for wanting to stock the very best."
"I suppose I can understand that, but he should at least show the proper respect when he's outside of your area. The man refuses to acknowledge that he is here by our good graces. Nothing mo-" a crash from upstairs "OH DAMN! The cat knocked over another one! Wait here!" shrieked Giordanno as she bounded up the stairs.
Bhaisal quickly and quietly walked over to a nearby dresser, opened the middle drawer, and slipped the ring inside. He returned to where Giordano had left him just as came back down.
"Miss Giordano, I promise I will have a talk with Malthyr and explain to him the proper courtesies to show when interacting in the Stone Quarter."
"Thank you! That's all I'm asking for. The proper respect. I trust you can show yourself out?"
"Of course. Thank you for your time."
"Thank you, Bhaisal, Thank you! May the blessings of Azura rain down on you for all eternity!" Revyn shook Bhaisal's hand so hard that the priest winced.
"You're welcome, my friend." said Bhaisal, withdrawing his hand to leave.
"No, no. Wait a moment, Bhaisal. I want to give you something for your help. Here's all the profits from my last shipment." Revyn held out a large bag of septims.
A pained expression passed over Bhaisal's face. He didn't reach for the bag.
"Look, I know you don't like the idea of being paid for stuff like this. That's not why you do it. But you have to eat, so you either take the gold or start begging again. Please don't go back to begging. It's so demeaning."
Bhaisal knew Revyn was right, so he politely thanked Revyn for the gold, and returned to the cornerclub.
After a few more hours of preaching, Bhaisal bought a skin of apple and cabbage soup and returned home. He and Dwelynn ate dinner in silence, and then retired for the night. Bhaisal slipped off the heavy robes he'd been wearing all day, sat cross-legged on his bed and just breathed for a few minutes until the cold drove him under the covers. Just another day, thought Bhaisal. Just another fucking day.
