He woke to the sounds of birds whistling merrily and little brown rabbits passing by with dirt flying behind their small hind legs. The sun had not fully come out yet but he could feel the slight warmth of it on his skin already. The weather in Skyrim never fared well for him since his arrival in the country and he knew it was still considered warm there than other places in Skyrim. It was never this cold in Cyrodiil, he thought. Why didn't I bring warmer clothes? He rose from the rock-filled dirt and dusted off his thin tunic and fur coat. The smell of the tall trees filled his thin unlined nose and made his eyes tear. They were all around him. Small, thin light brown trees as well as large, broad, almost black ones. A good idea, he told himself the night before. More trees would disguise him from potential threats that crept in the night. He has heard tales of how men were eaten whole by bears whilst they slept. Let a bear come, he thought to himself. They scare me no more than the common villager.
The Knight kicked dirt into the campfire profusely to set it out. He went for his knapsack and pulled out some sweet honey-filled goat milk encased in a jug and some stale bread wrapped in cotton. He exercised his legs as he broke his fast, trying to preserve time. He grew tired of eating the same foods every day since he departed from Cyrodiil. Milk and bread in the mornings, and rabbit haunches in the afternoon. To make matters worse, he was running low on the food. He was never a hunter and he carried no bow so he had trouble catching food. The rabbits were too fast for him and even then, he scarcely saw any other animal. He could have really went for an inn somewhere but he did not know where he was.
He had lost his map as well as his accompanying squire. It had only been a day past since he last saw a steel sword cut through the young boy's chest. They had stumbled upon a bandit camp, stupidly attempting to make an acquaintance with them. There were at least 8 bandits covered in hide and fur armour. He heard one of the bandits shout " Look at that one! A nice set of armour he has on!" The Knight had been carrying quite a few goods with him, but it was his armour that mattered to him the most. It was the steel plate armour that kept him intact since he departed from Cyrodiil. He had it forged by one of his most trusted allies back home. It was shiny with parts of leather circling the waist area and scales rowing down across the back of the Cuirass. The armour pleased him when his ally presented it to him. He knew he couldn't let the bandits get a hold of such a fine armour. He managed to slice through two bandits easily with two quick swings to necks of each. Another bandit had approached him clad in iron armour with a steel sword on his right hand and an iron shield on his left. The bandit had swung at him but the knight side-stepped to the left and cut him in the leg. The bandit staggered and the knight drove his steel sword through the back of his skull. Blood splattered all over his steel skirts as his weapon left a hole as it exited. He turned back and saw his squire surrounded by the other five bandits. It had been too late for him. The knight made a dash for his horse, mounted and sprinted off into the night. He had only heard one shriek. The squire. Better you than me, he thought.
That was at least what he remembered the day past. He had tried to forget what had occurred by sleeping it off. This day will be better, he thought as he began to sit. He dug his feet into his steel plate boots, his arms in his gauntlets and his chest in his cuirass. A tedious task it was for him to don his armour. Before, it had always been the squire's burden to dress him. At last, he equipped his bright silver helm as he rose up. The rest of his equipment was put in his knapsack as he readied his horse. He had to get to Solitude and he knew it was at the very North of Skyrim, but it was too far away from him. It had already been days since he first passed by Falkreath and he had not seen any settlements since then. He chose a direction and hoped for the best. Hopefully he would arrive in Markarth where he could resupply and perhaps get some rest, he thought to himself. Hopefully.