Ch 1.
The two elves staggered up off the boat and onto Windhelm's ice- rimed docks, relieved to be on solid ground once again. The passage across had turned choppy once they had left the sheltered waters of Raven Rock's harbor; the boat bucking whitecaps and slamming spray all over everyone. The Nord sailors had loved it, whooping and cheering for the bigger waves while they ribbed sick passengers and dared the elements.
A late spring storm had the city in the grip of cold. Fat clumsy snowflakes tumbled down, melting the instant they landed.
Teldryn's lip curled at his first whiff of the place in years; a rank amalgam of garbage, sewage, and fish guts, even in the cold. Some things never changed.
Sleeping on the floor of the one room attic apartment pressed up under the leaking eaves with four other dunmer above a shady little shop. The rent had been only slightly cheaper than their lives.
The pair stumbled up off the docks, veering around workers and fishermen. They climbed the steep stairs and passed through the gate into the narrow alleys of the city's slum district.
"I lived here in the Gray Quarter for years... it's a wretched place full of bitter Dunmer. Let's be done quickly." Teldryn kept his head down, hood up and scarf pulled close around his face. His arms were folded over his chest for warmth.
The very design of the city; claustrophobic streets with strangely angled courtyards, made sure no one felt like taking their time. Windhelm was a city that knew productivity. It knew paranoia. It knew defense. And it knew violence. Those things which had been bled into its very bones by the ancient Nords as a means to survive had a way of keeping the residents on edge even now.
The spellsword's shoulders hunched as he hitched his pack up higher and kept his arms close to his body. Someone shouldered past him. He resisted the urge to turn with the strike and send the offender tumbling, but he did drop a hand to his coin purse just in case. It was unharmed.
His shoulder blade cracking as he was slammed into the stone wall by a beefy Nord slurring out his hate on sour breath reeking of ale and rotting teeth while his cohorts relieved Teldryn of his wages.
Windhelm had been a core of anti-Dunmer sentiment long before Ulfric Stormcloak had been born, deposed, and then executed.
"Where to then? There's the corner club up on the next street, or there's Candlehearth?" Ceirin cupped his fingers around his mouth, blowing on them for warmth.
Teldryn suspected they would be safer at the corner club. The cultural differences were often… noticeable, even when bigotry wasn't the issue. The Candlehearth was a Nord's tavern in a Nord's city.
He, however, also dreaded running into anyone he had known while he had lived here. It had been a long while, but even so…Former co-workers, roommates, and old lovers were high up his list of people to avoid right after enemies, for everyone's peace of mind.
The anonymity of two mer in the latter place would be a sure thing. If they could tolerate the grumbling, the stares, and the intentionally watered- down drinks.
"You pick. I just want to get indoors." He shook his head and shrugged. The internal debate didn't leave him with any great ideas and he was getting colder by minute.
"Alright. Candlehearth, then. I just have to run a quick errand first."
At Teldryn's suspicious look, he clarified.
"Not that kind of errand. I just have some stuff left over from that last tomb that I wanted to sell before we trek all the way down to Riften."
"Lead on."
Teldryn followed the taller mer as he ducked through the crowds and made his way across several intersections and then down a steep split level alley lined with shops.
He noticed that a good deal of construction was being done around the city; scaffolding up for repairs, new roofing tiles, signboards sporting fresh paint, and more streetlamps than he remembered. Imperial soldiers patrolled the walls and stood stationed at intersections, but people were relaxed and going about their business. The poverty was still there, but the oppression seemed to be lifting.
He was so caught up in looking around that he almost failed to notice the storefront Ceirin was heading his hood deeper around his face, he hurried to follow, praying no one recognized him.
He relaxed when the dunmer behind the counter wasn't anyone he knew. The shopkeeper greeted Ceirin with a smile; they seemed to know one another from previous deals and fell right to business. Teldryn let his hood fall back, enjoying the warmth on his face and ears. His gaze fell on a silver pitcher on one shelf. Someone had taken the time to polish it to a reflective shine. Peering into it, he finger combed his wind flattened mohawk back into some semblance of itself before he looked around.
The place didn't seem to have changed much beyond the face behind the counter.
He was examining a simple wooden mug, in better condition than the one he had, when the bells tied to the door jingled and someone else came into the shop. He turned to see who it was and froze. The dunmer in the doorway spotted him and did the same. There was a long uncomfortable space where they stared at one another, before new arrival turned and walked back out, leaving the door to slam closed behind him. Teldryn set the mug back down. He moved over to stand closer to Ceirin.
The merchant was busy, his back to them while weighing out some of the gems he was buying and tallying up the sums. Ceirin turned and mouthed 'trouble', eyes questioning.
Teldryn could only shrug.
As soon as Ceirin got his slip of paper signed for the amount he was owed, they left and headed to the Inn.
"Was that who you've been avoiding?" Ceirin asked, as he hunched deeper into the collar of his coat to fend off the flurries coming down. He set a fast pace toward the main square.
"How did you..?" Teldryn scowled and shook his head, "Never mind. Yeah, that was one."
"You've been on edge and keeping your face hidden since we got off the boat. Thief, remember? I know when someone's looking to avoid being noticed." He explained. "Should we be expecting problems?"
"I don't think so. I just…was hoping not to run into him." Teldryn felt the back of his neck heat as he struggled with whether or not he should tell Ceirin why, but by then they were part of a larger crowd heading up the steps to the Inn door, so he let it go. The encounter had done nothing to improve his mood.
The spellsword went to huddle near the fire while Ceirin picked up their drink order. He watched as an altmer woman, taller even than Ceirin, recognized him. A light touch on his shoulder, bright smile, she was conversing with him. The spellsword watched as Ceirin headed back to where he was waiting. The woman followed just as far as her own table.
"I'll see you again soon, I hope."
Teldryn was just close enough to overhear her. Ceirin told her flat out they were leaving in the morning. He wasn't rude about it, but behind his back, her face fell for just a moment before she went back to talking and laughing with her friends. He approached and nodded towards the stairs, indicating the upper level. Teldryn took his drink and fell in step.
"So who's your friend?"
They took a table near the fire on the second floor. The stifling heat from the fire felt welcome after being out in the cold for most of the day. Hoods and scarves were removed, cloaks were thrown over the backs of chairs to dry.
"She's not a friend. I met her through my other job."
Teldryn had to stop himself from doing a double take. "She's …" He snapped his mouth shut, aware of the public surroundings. Thieves Guild.
"Not one of mine. She has her own thing going. Did you think I was the only one with a day job?" Ceirin leaned forward and curled his fingers around his steaming mug of tea. A popular cold weather blend of lavender, mint, and rose hips, by the aroma.
Outside, snow was coming down harder.
Teldryn noticed that the older couple seated at the table next to them was eavesdropping, scandalized, on their conversation. The same couple had given them a scathing look of disapproval when they had caught sight of his bristly strip of hair and tattoos and Ceirin's shaggy overgrown hair and earrings. Or maybe it was the shape of their ears. Nobles or some such. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud as he realized what their conversation must sound like. He caught Ceirin's eye and tilted his head a little in their direction. The altmer' eyes narrowed for a moment. He had noticed, too.
The waitress came up with their plates. Boiled venison with cabbage, carrots, and potatoes. After the hangover and the terrible crossing, Teldryn hadn't thought he'd want to eat so soon, but his mouth started watering as the plate was set down.
"So how many do you require?" Ceirin asked after she had gone away.
What? Oh, no. He wasn't doing this….Teldryn felt a jolt of adrenaline drop into his stomach. They were going to get kicked out.
"Because I had three quit after the last time." Ceirin continued as he ate, calm, as if this was a normal discussion. "I'll have to raise your usual fee." Only that gleam in his eyes gave away the joke.
At the next table, the woman made an indignant noise. Her husband glowered at them.
Teldryn took a swig of his own drink, wishing he'd ordered something stronger.
"You'll be compensated." He could play this game, too.
A choking sound came from the next table.
The conversation devolved from there. The older couple rushed to finish their meal and left in a huff. Ceirin watched them head down the stairs and then out the door. He leaned back in his chair, laughing.
"You, sera, are a horrible person." Teldryn gestured with his fork at the altmer for emphasis, shaking his head in amusement, before going back to his meal. If nothing else, the juvenile behavior had lifted his mood some.
"I'm horrible?" Ceirin tipped back in his chair with a practiced innocent expression and spread his arms out to take in the space.
They had the whole second floor to themselves now.