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Chapter 3
"Thank you." I rumble.
The courier smiles and nods before turning and running off into the inn. That one looked familiar – I'm sure it was the cap.
"Go on ten girl."
I jerk and bring my eyes up because for a wild moment I believe the cart driver is addressing me, urging me to open the wax sealed message. But no, he is only talking to the old black nag pulling the old black cart.
They both looked like they wouldn't make it through the winter when I first got to Skyrim, but here they are, six years later, still pulling us along the roads as if they're in the prime of life. It is amazing how resilient the climate makes things here.
I turn my message scroll over once again to study the seal. It's not one I see very often; Dawnstar. I get more messages from Winterhold, which is saying something.
Now thoroughly intrigued I carefully lift the seal and skim the charcoal script.
Tomb Imperials Axe Shield
For one terrifying moment Nirn drops away from me, yanking on my stomach, like I've once again jumped from Bards Leap (Yes son I did do that, twice, just ask these two), but then the cart hits a hole in the road and I'm jolted back to myself.
So the Imperial Legion has finally cracked.
Do I win the bet? After all Kara thought Ulfric would request her presence first. I bet on the Legion asking first, though most definitely not like this. If anyone would try getting her attention with a stunt like that I would have bet on Ulfric, simply because he has the balls for it.
... Although I don't think Kara thought of a scenario involving Wuuthrad being stolen at all. Obviously I have prepared for the possibility, but that was mostly just my paranoia talking. Honestly I didn't seriously expect it to happen.
Yes that's right. The Legion raided Ysgramor's Tomb.
That anyone other than the companions went in there is near sacrilegious in of itself. But they didn't just do that, no. My contacts have been set up to inform me if the Imperial Army took anything... and they have.
Ysgramor's restored battle-axe, Wuuthrad, and his magic repelling shield, whatever it may be called.
Fools.
Didn't they learn their lesson two years ago? Never annoy a sleeping dragon, be it a massively scaly lizard, or small brunette mortal woman.
Kara, Dovakiin, Dragonborn, and most importantly, un-sided Companion, will be furious.
I am in frenzied contemplation the week it takes the cart to get from Iverstead, located on the Riften side of the Throat of World, to Whiterun, the other side of the tallest mountain in Tamrial, in the middle of the plains.
I am not – was not – the Guildmaster of the Thieves because of my stunning good looks. We plot and plan well beforehand; to be prepared is to be successful, and I am not full of hot air when I say that I am always successful.
The implications behind the theft of Wuuthrad are two-fold.
Firstly it is a kick to the groin for all Nords, as Ysgramor is seen as their founding father. More will flock to the Stormcloak banner for this insolence.
Secondly, and more importantly to the War at least, it is an action the Dragonborn, proud Circle Member of the Companions, of whom Ysgramor was the leader, will not be able to ignore, especially without seeming weak.
Kara is anything but.
Yet this is a strangely risky move for the more cautious Legion. Tullius is risking sending the Dragonborn straight into the arms of the enemy, the Stormcloaks. It is not a stratagem many would peg the man for.
I must admit that it concerns me terribly. I have already asked the cart driver to go faster once, offering double pay as incentive. I am afraid Kara will act without thinking, which she does fairly often if I'm honest, and get herself into major trouble, which she always does.
But this could be major treasonous trouble though, and while Shouting usually resolves her problems, I really don't think it'll make Treason charges drop. Imperials seem less impressed by the power than is safe.
"You look worried, cat." The driver observes without turning around. I think he has a soft spot for me secretly.
"Aye." I reply wearily. "Kara."
He snorts. "Who else?"
I laugh. "Yes, yes, I know I need to get myself a man."
"There're plenty of them, hairy too, unless that's why you're not in Elsweyr anymore?" He replies cheekily.
I laugh again but bury my face in my hands. "No I was born in Skyrim actually. I just haven't found the right man yet."
"Oh... well once you rescue Kara you come see me." The old lecher grins over his shoulder.
Some minutes later I manage to pick my jaw up off of my lap and reply. "Er thanks for the offer, but I wouldn't dare take you away from Vera."
The old nag whinnies, seemingly in agreement, but the driver only tuts and pats her rump.
I am not overly fond of Whiterun. It is beautiful, as are all the Holds of Skyrim, in their own – usually chilly – ways, but this Hold is made up of plains.
Bad for hunting as prey often sees you coming for miles. As I am Khajiit and an archer the plains are almost offensive.
On the other hand they are not so bad for practicing sneaking; because of the flat land sneaking is much more a challenge, of which there aren't many places that do that for me. Also the giants and mammoth that frequent these plains give out a warning roar if they spot you, instead of attacking immediately, which is amazing. In fact the mammoths wont attack you unless you poke them roughly – which yes I have learnt from experience.
Hard for armies to sneak up you too. Hence why the Companions settled here; Ysgramor was not just brawn and beard.
I reluctantly (old habits die hard) hand a nice fat coin purse to my driver, much to his toothy delight, and with a heavy heart and nervous stomach (or maybe it was all the dry tack? That stuff doesn't much agree with me) I trek up the zig-zag entrance to the city gates.
I could use the 'secret' Skyforge entrance, or even skip over the walls somewhere, but I'm afraid I'll miss Kara if I do. Hell, I am afraid I've missed her already, even being two days earlier than normal travel time.
The guards peer suspiciously at me but I wave Kara's 'seal' in their faces before they even take a breath. They let me through with much hesitancy and grumbling, but at least I do get through without bother. The seal was one of Kara's best ideas ever, second only to visiting the Pelagius wing in Solitude's Blue Palace.
After her first public 'Shout' Kara became famous practically overnight, was recognised by strangers in settlements days away, while I, her staunch companion, was still being patted down every time I entered or left a city. After one nasty incident whereupon I was sent to Falkreath prison and had all our legitimately brought goods confiscated, Kara decided enough was enough and had a special seal made for me. The result was that it became my free pass into or out of any city in Skyrim.
It wasn't a particularly difficult thing to get done, as Kara had by then also become Thane of Whiterun and Morthal, and was actively setting out to become Thanes in Solitude, Riften and Markarth, so she had the majority of the Thanes of Skyrim recognise it. The blades refused but Kara hadn't even let them know; that letter hardly registered in her list of 'things I care about'.
It used to see a lot of action, but I rarely use it nowadays, having little need to, but sometimes – like today – the guards need reminding. I have used it on jobs, but only to get into cities, because if I'm found with stolen goods and Kara's seal it will reflect very badly on her. I don't want that for my soul-sister.
Now I foresee the seal being whipped out at every opportunity.
Whiterun is bustling as usual. Willingly I admit that it is wonderful to take a breath of clean, non-salted, non-fishy, air. I love Riften, but I am the first to acknowledge that the city stinks to high heaven even on a good day.
This town is prosperous in a way that Riften, and half the other cities, can only dream of. Whiterun is very happily cosmopolitan, while Riften, for example, is just a marketplace full of worker Argonians and Dunmer, with the occasional Nord to keep Balimund from looking like an immigrant.
Breezehome sits prettily just a few strides inside the gates. I remember that Kara nearly squealed when she realised it was being sold - because she could come back exhausted from her quests and not have to drag herself halfway across the city just to get a bed up at the inn. Neither Kara nor her housecarl Lydia is home, so I dump my packs inside the door and head back outside.
The brown-eyed Nord is alright, excellently sarcastic and caustic, yet patient, but she disapproves of my corrupting 'thiefy ways', so I generally keep our interactions short and sweet. If she isn't guarding Breezehome she'll be out helping the Whiterun guards.
Since Kara joined the companions she uses Breezehome mostly as a storage area for her most valuable or sentimental or interesting loot. Close by and with her most trusted housecarl. But her other houses are fully furnished, stocked and have money stashed in them – 'for emergencies'. I have keys to all of them, which gives this one warm fuzzy feels.
I take Hircine's Faithful - my father's heirloom bow -, merely steel and Hickory wood, and a handful of elven arrows from my second back and slip them all into place on my back. I don't plan on using my bow, but I'm walking into a Hall of warriors; I need to have some kind of weapon on me just so they won't laugh at me.
From my first pack I take three notes, including the short missive from Dawnstar. With a shaky sigh I slip the papers into a small hidden stomach pocket in my leather armour. I stole that idea from a thief in Bruma my mother once worked with.
The sun is well past its zenith I note as I make my way up to Jorrvaskr. I spot a few familiar faces on the way, including the ever friendly Ysolda, who still hasn't bought that inn, Amren who greets me with a bright but brief grin, and the old lady Grey-mane who is looking haggard as well as old.
I have only been in the great boat-hall once, to steal the Stone of Barenziah my sources told me had been interred there for decades. I do not – did not – wish to put Kara in an awkward position if I was caught stealing, so I left well enough alone. I didn't even tell her I was in Whiterun the day I stole that particular stone. Of course she was with me when I found, or stole, the others. We even brought Proudspire manor together to get the very last damn one.
Our respective guilds know of our friendship – story telling seems to be a requirement to join the companions, and all the exciting things in my life happened with Kara – but I don't know how much more either side really knows. I certainly haven't intentionally told my lot anything intimate.
"Make eye contact and keep your chin up." I mutter to myself. "You have important information for them."
With a body wide shake I square my shoulders and head up the steps to the boat-hall. I smile sadly at the Shadowmarks adorning the right side of the wooden entrance arch. I etched them myself: Danger and Protected.
I can hear the smith is in his usual place at the ever impressive Skyforge.
Heart beating loudly I push open the heavy door and slip silently through. No one notices me, which is a slight relief, so I take the time to familiarise myself with the layout. Jorrvaskr is a massive structure inside, dominated by a large fire pit and surrounding tables. All kinds of hearty Nord food litters the tables, intersected with lots of mead. To my left on ground level is a doorway that leads to a bedroom and to my right are a set of stairs that lead to the under-ground bedrooms. The wall just beyond the stairs has brackets in an obvious Battle-axe shape.
I sigh in exasperation.
