In spite of the morning the arch inviting customers into the Cornerclub was dusky, lit by two flickering torches. The entire area surrounding the establishment could have shined in the daylight if there was any. Figures. Ambarys couldn't possibly be content to simply keep the inside of his Cornerclub clean. Teldryn couldn't help but hesitate to take those final steps. He took a breath and chuckled, doing what he could to reassure Qeejah.

"The barkeeper here is serious and likes to talk to himself, but I think he'll help you if he knows anything," Teldryn smiled softly, "It's been years since I've lived here but I still know a few people. He was a friend of mine." Qeejah searched Teldryn, looking for silent answers to silent questions – perhaps in some ways she was sharper than her demeanor betrayed. At least her rampant curiosity counted for something, he thought, but why did it have to shine through now?

"That should make things easier," she said cheerfully.

Teldryn took a cursory note of the surroundings and opened the heavy door, allowing Qeejah inside. A cloud of warmth rushed to greet them along with the aroma of roasted fish and snowberries. Oddly enough, the place was empty. Even the barkeeper was gone. The New Gnisis Cornerclub was rough but clean, minded by one of most tidy people in all of Tamriel. Porous wood creaked beneath their boots. It must have been too early for Ambarys to expect any real business. Teldryn fondly ran his hand over one of the old banners.

Qeejah let her backpack slide onto a chair, sitting down at the other end of a round table. It was still morning and they had a long day ahead of them. "Something has been bothering Qeejah... she simply can't ignore it," she looked the sellsword in the eye, very serious.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" asked Qeejah, head swiveling around the empty room, "Smells like someone's been cooking, but -"

"No, no, it's alright, the place is open!"

A scrawny Dunmer with hard features carried a platter into the main room. The roasted slaughterfish looked as delicious as it smelled. Concentrating on balancing the large plate he welcomed the two in, "Some bards are stopping here today. Needed to prepare and all that, and – damn it!" the dish slipped from his hands. Teldryn moved quickly to rescue it. In a blur, he had the platter safely in his grip.

"You move like a cliff racer, sera, thank you."

Teldryn put down the platter. Ambarys' distracted expression morphed into one of abject disgust as he caught a glimpse of the telltale mohawk and chitin armor. That's a good sign. His eyes moved from Teldryn, to his Argonian client, and to Teldryn again, "You? Don't you have a grave to rob or something?"

"I missed you too," cooed Teldryn with a rueful simper, "Good to know you still think I move like a cliff racer, though. It's been years."

"For good reason," Ambarys peeked over Teldryn's shoulder to get a look at the slight Argonian woman with yellow eyes, "I'm sorry, miss, did you want a drink?"

"We actually needed to ask you some questions," added Qeejah.

Ambarys' eyes narrowed, "About what?" his rough voice rose and contracted to a sharp point.

She looked like she was about to panic, "Just, ah, just..." she looked around helplessly, "Qeejah... She's... she's looking...ah..."

Suddenly now she can't find the words? Teldryn was about to answer the question himself when Ambarys' eyes softened, "Damn, it's really alright. Just tell me why you're here."

Teldryn could see that Ambarys was torn – he carried old wounds and suspicions same as anyone else, and the wounds between the two of them were very deep. The Riot Years made them both harder people, but for all of Ambarys' posturing and rants, Teldryn knew he couldn't bring himself to be outright cruel to a distressed person. He went especially soft for people asking for his help.

"Qeejah got the impression that you could help," she folded her hands together. Little did she know that she just said the magic words. She looked genuinely hopeful.

Ambarys scowled at the quiet Teldryn. He had decided it was his fault, then.

Silence clearly made Qeejah anxious, "There's a missing person, he was here some time ago. He's very close to me. He's been gone for months and Qeejah couldn't just stay and do nothing. Its easier to get to Windhelm through Solstheim than over the mountains... and Qeejah can't fight, she couldn't come here by herself..."

His expression became weary, "So you found yourself a bodyguard. Sero's a good one. Don't mean to assume, but you looking for an Argonian, by any chance?"

Qeejah nodded.

"Red stripe? Horns? A bit gray?" Ambarys was troubled with his thoughts, shifting in place.

"Yes!" she breathed deeply, "That's him."

"Sit down. Have a drink. Don't, ah – don't worry about paying," he managed a smile, "You're a first time customer, so it's on me. And I think I missed your name."

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Teldryn gave a concerned look to Ambarys, who wouldn't return it. He gestured for him to sit as well but kept him at a distance.

Hesitantly, she took a seat, "Qeejah," she said aptly, leaning forward.

Ambarys focused on mixing a drink. A little bit of honey, low-quality sujamma, mint and mixed with crushed apple. Give it a little shock and voila – you have Skyrim Shein. A specialty of his. He liked to say it reflected the spirit of the Dunmer of Windhelm, reusing the old and cast-aside and transforming it. At least he did when Teldryn knew him well. The Argonian watched with interest, a little bit star-struck at the the shock spell and smoke gently emanating from the mug and pitcher.

"That's brilliant," Qeejah's eyes shined and she took the mug into her hands. For all of the wonder on her face, she still only took a small sip, "Wonderful, but Qeejah is afraid she does not drink much. Tell me about where you saw him... my... my Ah-Ja."

Teldryn was not going to test Ambarys by asking for a drink. He was sure to give him plenty of room.

Ambarys sighed and held his head in his hand, rubbing his eyes, "The Grey Quarter's a pretty tight-knit place," he began coolly, "You might not know everyone but you can tell when someone isn't from here. This... this Ah-Ja?"

"Ah-Ja."

"He had the mark of not only an outsider to Windhelm but all of Skyrim. Went out in the freezing cold at night, came back exhausted. Real strange."

Qeejah's mouth fell open, "Do you know why?"

Of course she knew why her skooma addicted boyfriend went out at night. Just like that, pity for her drained into Teldryn's lungs, diluting the scorn. It had to be humiliating covering for someone who left her behind, sparing the pride of an absentee man... Did Ah-Ja want to be found? Those thoughts weren't going to start paying him any time soon – he tuned them out.

"Couldn't say. Terrible to do in Windhelm, especially for an Argonian. I told him it was a bad idea but he mumbled something about the night air being good for his lungs. Didn't believe a word of it, myself."

"Aren't Argonians not allowed in the city at night?"

"Only if they get caught," Ambarys smiled humorlessly, "And I wasn't about to rat him out to the Nord guards. If they aren't going to care about actual crimes committed in the Grey Quarter, I won't report Argonians wandering around in the city walls at night. Can't help but think the Nords ought to get thrown out of a city one day..."

Teldryn's lips tightened. He swallowed his usual backtalk. If the two of them started arguing it would be disastrous for his client's search. Ambarys was clearly their primary lead to finding this troubled man. That meant not acknowledging any prior disagreements.

"But Ah-Ja, he-" for once, Qeejah was intent on keeping the topic focused.

"Right. He must've had a lot on his mind. Nervous, actually. Still chatted up about anyone who would come in. I... I let him stay here for a while. Seemed like needed somewhere to rest his head, you know? Didn't make any trouble and almost no one ever rents the extra room. Like I said, the guards aren't too observant around here," Ambarys leaned onto the counter.

"You do have a talent for looking after the hard cases," Teldryn said softly.

The bitter-faced Dunmer wasn't going to acknowledge that.

Qeejah stared at her mostly full glass, "All that and he never told you his name?"

"He called himself Grass-Runner," Ambarys chose his words carefully, "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No. But everything you said sounds just like him."

Ambarys' attention went straight to old stains from water-damage on the walls, "He got into a fight and got dragged away. I should have just told you."

"You make it sound like he died - " began Teldryn, who went silent as soon as he spoke.

Qeejah buried her head in her hands.

"He's disappeared," Ambarys lowered his voice, "This city didn't just stop getting worse after you left, Sero. There's been disappearances but no one's come back."

Time to shut up again.

Qeejah focused with cold, yellow eyes, harboring that same impassive energy she had when she burst into the Retching Netch like she was a guard busting a skooma den, "Did you see what happened? Or did you hear about it?"

"I saw some of it," Ambarys inched closer to her from behind the counter, checking the door, "It was bright daylight. He was sitting at a table with a man, just talking. And they started arguing. Not shouting or anything, but you can tell they didn't see eye to eye about something. It made me nervous."

"Nervous?" urged Qeejah.

"Yes, it's hard to explain. Call it intuition," he glanced at Teldryn, "I've known some rough people in my life. You get a sense for it."

"Qeejah is sure you have," she smiled sadly, "She wishes we met under different stars, so we could talk all about it. Go on."

"Well, I went to go get a scroll or something – I keep one around to scare people looking to make trouble - and when I came back they were on the ground. It went to shit from there. Tables got turned over, it spilled out into the streets and someone must have been stabbed because there was blood all over my floor," Ambarys grimaced, "'Ah-Ja' didn't seem violent. I don't think he was the one with the knife."

So that was it. As Teldryn came to terms with the new information he found it made him a little furious that Ambarys wouldn't just say it, too afraid of making people lose hope. That kind of 'hope' just hurt people in the end. He could already see the devastation strike Qeejah's face. She was trying so hard to look brave. Maybe after they finish talking with Ambarys it'll be time to ask her if she's ready to go home.

"You didn't go get the guards?" Qeejah's voice wavered.

Ambarys and Teldryn finally exchanged looks. The guards wouldn't care. They never did. What would they do about some Argonian foreigner nobody knew? Absolutely nothing. No doubt they even left the inhabitants of the Grey Quarter to clean up the mess on their own.

"It's like I said," Ambarys growled, "The guards don't care about actual crimes committed in the Grey Quarter. They leave us here to rot in an open sewer."

"It's true, Qeejah, it's horrible." He paused, "I think we need to chat. Do you mind if we take a moment?" Teldryn motioned for her to follow him.

Ambarys rigidly nodded, "You can use the back room if you want. I'll have company any moment."

Qeejah agreed, and she rose from her seat, a downcast expression passed over her scaled face.

Teldryn needed to break it down. Deep down she probably realized it was some sort of skooma deal gone bad – going on and on about that part would just be rubbing salt in the wound. However, he needed to focus on the reality of the situation, that Ah-Ja could just as likely be dead as he could be alive. He'd seen clients insist on searching for people long after it became hopeless. It was miserable and it provided him coin he didn't like taking. Some of them he eventually refused to accept payments from... many went home, and a few others found another mercenary with less scruples or experience.

She was going to cry. They always do. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when they argued with him, thinking he had some malicious reason for telling them the possibilities. Not that he could blame them – it wasn't easy to know they might have to give up, especially if there was even the tiniest chance of a good outcome to latch onto... not taking into account the many things that could go wrong with one untrained person and one professional diving into the wilderness and skooma dens of a wartorn Skyrim looking for someone who could be dead.

Ambarys carefully drew a curtain as the sellsword and his client took a step inside. Stacks and stacks of slightly damaged crates lined the right side of the room – filled with perfectly serviceable but half-priced liquor, no doubt. It was very warm in the back room and the scent of good food was strong. Teldryn's stomach grumbled at him, luckily low enough for only him to hear.

"What are you thinking?" Teldryn asked, keeping close eye contact with Qeejah.

"Qeejah thinks... Qeejah... She thinks she ought to cry, but nothing will come," she looked down and slumped onto a crate.

"That's alright," he reassured in a soft voice and sat onto a crate next to her, "I need to know what you want to do."

Her breath caught in her throat, "Qeejah... she... what do you think?"

"I think barring someone around here personally knowing who hurt Ah-Ja, we're going to have a very hard time finding new leads. People come and go in this city all the time. There aren't patrols on the roads of Skyrim – it's perilous even for the natives. Obviously I can't predict the future, but things..." Mephala save him, it was a lot harder to say these things when he really had to, "Things aren't looking good for Ah-Ja."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a chance the man's dead, Qeejah. The injury, that someone wanted to hurt him in the first place, he doesn't know anyone here, and we don't know if he even had any money with him. He was here in the deep of Winter... and..." Teldryn trailed off awkwardly.

"You think he crawled under a bridge somewhere," she sounded parched, drained of emotion.

Or jumped off one. Sometimes people like Ah-Ja go looking for somewhere to die. Teldryn was all too familiar with violence – the bodies hadn't bothered him for years. It was the reactions of hopeful clients like her that stuck with him, quiet resignation, shrieking, sobbing, punching walls. Sometimes clients directed their anger at him because there wasn't a clear figure to blame. Qeejah didn't seem the type to mix grief and rage. He frowned at her shaking frame. She probably couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to.

"It's a possibility, but it isn't the only possibility. Skooma might have been involved in that fight and poking around the gangs who deal in that is dangerous, even for the most skilled warriors in the world." he looked at his boots, "It's clear we need to find this attacker, if we continue."

"How would we start?"

"Well-"

The front door opened. With a little interest Teldryn wondered if it was those bards Ambarys was talking about, he quickly turned back to Qeejah to finish his point about how difficult finding a lead would be. She was on the edge of the crate with her back hunched. "We could check-"

"What brings you here?" Ambarys sounded gruff, using a tone he only used when he was trying to hide his fear.

Teldryn sprang to his feet, Qeejah following. The two got close to the curtain.

"We all want a drink sometimes," the stranger had a smooth male voice, with a Nordic accent undoubtedly from the mountains of the Morrowind/Skyrim border, "The Cornerclub has good drinks, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it does," continued Ambarys, "But I get the feeling that's not why you're here."

"It's about a gift from Vasha."

A weapon was drawn and Ambarys cried out. Teldryn and Qeejah shuffled out from behind the curtain. A slender man with a black mustache and long dark hair had Ambarys in a vice grip, bringing him closer to the knife in his right hand.

Teldryn and the man briefly made eye contact. He cursed and nearly dropped the knife.

"What's all this about?" Teldryn asked, reaching for his weapon.

The knife sank into Ambarys in an instant. He screamed and collapsed against the wall – his attacker fled outside.

"You're hurt!" Teldryn rushed to Ambarys' side to help him slide to the floor without hurting himself any more than he already was. It looked painful but he wasn't bleeding much. The knife, an ugly iron blade, was embedded in his shoulder. It needed to stay there barring the threat of poison.

"Fuck!" gasped Ambarys with tears in his eyes, "Fuck!"

As a reflex he tried to reach for the knife with his right hand only for Teldryn to move it away.

"Was that the man who-"

He nodded, "Yes. Agh! Just go. Qeejah can-" panting, he looked around, "Qeejah?"

Teldryn caught a glimpse of a tail in the ajar door frame, "The hell is she doing?"

"Go! I..." he struggled to say his words, "Hgn. I'm not fine. Ergk. Just – shit in a guar pit fuck that hurts, I – I'm not gonna die."

Ambarys made another attempt at pulling out the knife. It was deliberate this time. Teldryn blocked him again, locking eyes with the stubborn man.

"Don't pull the knife out on your own."

"You're killing me, Tel," Ambarys took a sharp breath through his teeth, "That fetcher's running down the street. Do something about it!"

"Are you light-headed? Nauseous?" Teldryn looked over his old friend – as long as he didn't try dislodging the knife without a healer's help, he should be 'fine', but he had to be terrified. Ambarys got very tough when he was afraid and in pain.

"Obviously not," he tried to roll his eyes.

Two demanding situations. One man's patience. "Do you think he poisoned you?" Teldryn instantly regretted his blunt words. Nothing makes someone want to instantly rip out a weapon like the word 'poison'. But if it were poisoned...

The scowl on Ambarys' face faded into something more uncertain, "Poison?" he questioned. His right hand crawled to the wound on his shoulder. He touched the hilt, "Do you think that's likely? That he came here to kill me?"

"We need to get you to a healer. Come on," With careful hands Teldryn let Ambarys use him as leverage to stand up.

Ambarys, on unsteady feet, stood where he was. "She'll get hurt. You need to go after her."

That's right. He was working.

"Will someone help you?"

"It's not your concern and it can't be helped," he said deliberately.

That bitter, grudge-holding goblin of a Dunmer could go fuck himself if he was going to throw back decades old words at him in the middle of an emergency. It was very hard to make Teldryn irritated at a man who had just been stabbed but Ambarys apparently had the skill of a tonal architect. If it didn't sting so much Teldryn would've been impressed – a knife two inches in his shoulder and he had an amazing memory.

Still. Ambarys was hurt.

"Get help," his mouth was dry. Blood pounded in his ears.

Teldryn sprinted out of the shop. His qualms about leaving his old friend unattended were put aside for finding his client. A concerned woman tried to stop him. Did you see an Argonian run here? Yes? He apologized and moved out of her way. Icy air slapped his face. Slippery. Cast flame on the ice. Better. A shadow? Qeejah! And even further ahead – their man.

Qeejah moved fast and oddly graceful. She lunged over debris. With a little flourish she used bottom edges of buildings for maneuvering blocked areas. She was getting further away from Teldryn and closer to the attacker. And damn the wings of cliff racers, Teldryn was not slow-moving! He huffed. What was "I'm not a fighter, please help me" even going to do when she caught him?

Teldryn leaped over the pile of old crates that seem to build up in some parts of the city and slid forward. "Damn it!" he stumbled on a sheet of ice.

Qeejah glanced behind her and slowed down. She wasn't gaining on the attacker anymore but kept pace with him. Finally. Teldryn could get close enough to ask her what the fuck she was thinking, perhaps in those exact words.

"You're fast," puffed Teldryn, invoking a tone between a question, curse and comment.

Qeejah nodded and exhaled some vague agreement like 'mhm'.

To say she was fast was an understatement. Deliberately slowing herself down, she was still hard to follow – her feet were just a little more nimble, a little more careful. Qeejah passed between people and rubble with a cat's ease.

"He's the one, no doubt," she said, gritting her teeth, "Or it's nothing less than a practical joke handed to us by Sithis himself."

Ooh. A casual reference to Sithis. Colorful.

"Ambarys says so, anyways," Teldryn held back a few other choice comments, "You put yourself in a lot of danger."

"Qeejah reacted," she tried to look back over in his direction for a moment, but needed to focus on what was in front of her, "Sorry."

Sorry? Sorry?! Sorry?! 'I'm not a fighter' runs off after a violent thug with only a good heart and a plucky spirit and she says 'sorry'? 'Sorry' with the blasé tone of someone who stepped on your foot. Sorry, Qeejah forgot to pay you back those 15 septims, here you go, Teldryn! Sometimes people just forget to tell folk they have a death wish that defies the concerns of everyone around them, it happens all the time! Sorry!

...There were more pressing things. Breathe. The vast majority of people don't understand what counts as a 'bad idea' in these sorts of situations. Keep running. She wasn't responsible for the attack. Run. Breathe. Qeejah moved quick.

But their man was disappearing from view. He was about to get into the other part of Windhelm, the part where a running Dunmer and Argonian would get stopped. And just like that, a guard stepped in front of them. A woman, from the looks of it. Teldryn slid to a halt and Qeejah grasped a wall to stabilize herself.

"Hail," she said, "Dangerous running on the ice like this. There a problem or you just trying to get yourself hurt for no reason?"

When the two of them stared back at her in stunned silence she positioned herself between Qeejah and Teldryn, hand resting on her war-axe. In accented but well-spoken Dunmeris, she continued,"Why would a mer in armor chase a poor lizard in the alleys?"

Teldryn's stomach sank. It had been a long time since he heard a human speak Dunmeris.

"Speak or I'll haul you both to the dungeon to spare the trouble. You understand this? Without a story both of you will be lawbreakers."

...

Finally, the second chapter. This was difficult to write but I hope the tone and pacing was decent. Constructive criticism and comments really do help. I've been working and don't have as much time to write as I used to.

So I'm trying to keep my characters interesting where they aren't likable and likable where they aren't interesting. And of course, it's almost impossible for a writer to have an accurate idea of the quality of their work. I just hope it isn't terrible.

I've sort of constructed a personality in Ambarys and Teldryn from their dialogue in the game. I wanted to make them very flawed but interesting characters. Want to emphasize that the third person in this story is filtered through Teldryn's perspective, his character makes assumptions that aren't always true. Not everything he thinks is supposed to be sympathetic to the audience.