Vengeance
No one, no one would care for the boy. As he passed by, the people on the street ignored him. No one would look his way, and he knew why, they felt guilty. Guilty that they had seen his parents die and the boy left with no one left. No one would take him in, not even that damn orphanage in Riften, he didn't care, he had all he needed in his pack.
As he approached the city gates the guards tried to stop him.
"Don't you think you're a bit young to be wandering off?" One asked.
"I'm fifteen, old enough to travel anywhere." He replied.
"Don't be like that Veric," The guard responded.
"I'm leaving," The boy replied, "I'm going to High Hrothgar, and them I'm going to find the man who killed my family."
The guard stood aside, he felt sorry for the boy as he watched Veric walk off.
The cold air stung his face, but Veric didn't care, he walked down the path from the main gate in Windhelm. He had nothing left but a bag of septims and a dagger, but soon he would have all that he wanted, revenge. He saw that man's face in his memory, an Imperial Legionnaire. It made sense, his parents both believed in Ulfric Stormcloak and all he stood for, as did Veric. One thing stood out in the boy's mind, Ulfric's power. The Jarl of Windhelm had climbed the seven thousand steps, and learned the ways of the Voice from the Grey-Beards. That was Veric's mission, to learn the great power and use it to exact vengeance upon the man who left him to die. He looked up at the man in the carriage.
"Excuse me," Veric called out.
"What can I do for you today?" The man asked.
Veric tossed his bag of septims to the man, "I need to get as close to Ivarstead as possible."
The man jingled the bag, and then smiled. "Sir, I'll take you as far you want for this kind of coin."
Veric climbed in the back, as he did the carriage driver began to speak. "I hear that they've found the Dovakiin, strange times ahead of us."
'Strange indeed,' Veric thought to himself, as his eyes drifted closed.