Another five days have passed, and thus I do believe it would be a great time to sponsor a third chapter of this story I've had fun writing up over the past few weeks. Please, do enjoy.
Disclaimer: If I had owned TeS, I would have made Serana marriageable.
"Where to, oh protector of defenseless Imperial praefects?" Ayala sarcastically asked, following Valrulf down the stone trail toward the main road, watching Ralof's form disappear in the other direction, toward Riverwood.
"We're headed to Falkreath to pick up some things from a stash I have hidden in the town with a friend. There is a set of steel plate armor fit for me, a greatsword, and some gold in a coin purse there that we can use until we get to Winterhold. On our way north, we're headed to Whiterun to tell Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon attack at Helgen. While we're still in friendly territory for someone so dressed as yourself, you'll be getting a new set of armor as well. Can't have anyone in Windhelm seeing you in those rags and pots," Valrulf long-windedly replied. He thumbed the ax in the hem of his prisoner's clothes and pushed Ayala slightly ahead of him so that she would take the lead, even though he would guide them.
"Why am I going up front? Aren't you supposed to be the one protecting me?" Ayala protested, trying to move back behind Valrulf. He chuckled and put his hand on her back again, gently shoving her in front of him.
"We're still in an area where some Imperials could see us. If you're in front, they'll assume that you're transporting me. Helgen is behind us, and the plume of smoke rising from it should be an obvious signal as to why we're heading away from it. You also obviously haven't had much experience with Skyrim. People will walk up to you and try to goad you into fighting if they think they can take you. If they don't, they'll attack from behind. I'm... well, I'm rather large. One look at the both of us and they'll decide to attack from behind. When I get geared up and you get some new armor, then I'll walk in front of you," he let out.
The two of them walked in silence for what must have been hours, the slightly chilly Falkreath Hold air brushing into the armored ex-praefect and curling around the arms and legs of the less clothed of the two. Being a Nord originally from Windhelm, Valrulf shrugged off the not-as-chilly air and smiled mirthfully when he saw the Nord woman in front of him shiver as the plates of her armor grew colder. He moved forward and leaned down to speak in a normal tone past the whistling of the wind through the trees.
"In Skryim, if you start to get cold, it'd be best to jog instead of walking. You'll learn that you'll not only not get tired quickly in the cold air, but you'll start to see some better muscles in your legs and some better warmth in your armor. Come on, let's get to it," he spoke calmly, pointing at the road ahead of him as he finished. Ayala shivered and nodded her approval, glad that she was not the only one who had thought of picking up the pace, though her reason was to get inside as soon as possible.
The traveling duo sped up to a significant jog, though Valrulf had to slow down his long, leggy strides to allow Ayala to stay ahead of him at times. They figured that they would make it to Falkreath before nightfall at the pace they were setting, and so neither bothered to speak to the other to avoid slowing down. The path they used touched the mountain on which Helgen rested another two times before they passed what the male of the two referred to as "Shriekwind Basin" and the trail curved southward toward the Township of Falkreath.
It was nearly nightfall when they arrived at the gates of the town, and Valrulf knew the shops would be closing in a matter of two hours or less, so he bade to get Ayala to hurry and reach the blacksmith before such a thing could happen. They moved down the short entrance to town and into Main Street. Ayala almost lost Valrulf halfway through Main Street, but he gently grasped her arm and pulled her over toward a house near the center of town where a forge billowed smoke into the air. Beside said forge was a man in a red smock with a blue apron, hammering away at what looked to be an iron chestpiece with a smith's hammer.
"Have you any time to discuss something of importance, Lod?" Ayala heard Valrulf call out to the man at the smithing table, who looked up at the wall ahead of him and then turned around to smile at the massive man beside her.
"Valrulf, the old warrior himself? It's been an era since last you came to pick something up. Last I heard you were heading down here for some hunting. Get anything good?" He asked, wiping his hands off on the apron of his smock and putting the hammer down on the pile of logs next to the forge.
"No, but someone surely got me, though I got away. I got captured by Imperials who caught me resting at the gate and suspected me of treason for it. We just escaped from Helgen, where I was to be executed without any sort of voice. Charge-happy, those fools can be, no offense to you, Ayala," Valrulf explained, elbowing her in the arm as he said the last part.
"Err... None taken. They didn't take to training me or the men up to survive, so I don't think I'll find myself caring much for them anymore," she nervously muttered, though a look at Lod told her she might have said something incorrect.
"Loyalty is the best virtue anyone can have, especially for a Nord woman such as yourself. I don't like the Imperials and their meddling, but I don't like traitors either," Lod said, giving Valrulf an odd look and then resting a searing gaze on Ayala, who squirmed and looked up at the tall man beside her to bail her out.
"No, my old friend, I do believe it was the Imperials that betrayed her first. They're teaching their officers to ignore the men and keep amongst themselves," Valrulf extrapolated, putting a hand on Ayala's pauldron at Lod's understanding look, "Besides, I really didn't give her much of a choice but to leave with me. She's only with me now because the Empire wasn't quite what it made itself out to be."
"Hmph. I suppose I understand why you'd want to leave then. The shop closes up in an hour, so I have to turn the forge off soon. Is there anything you needed, Valrulf?" Lod asked, picking up the smithing hammer and making his way over to the table to hammer away at it again.
"That stash that I have underneath the forge, I need to get the things inside of it out today. I also need a new set of armor for this lovely lass," the gigantic man replied, pointing with his thumb over at the woman beside him, who looked down at the ground and cleared her throat after hearing the compliment.
"You remember how to get into the stash. It's hidden behind the house under layer of dirt and grass now that I've had the chance to fix it up a bit, but it's in the same spot. Everything in there you've already paid for, so take whatever you need. I even left your gold alone when the collectors came by and I was a coin or two behind, you lucky lug," Lod grinned, winking at the two of them, "I'll have this set of armor done in just a tad. If you don't find some armor for the lass down there, come back up and I'll see if I have anything that fits her."
The burlier Nord nodded once in affirmation and led Ayala to the rear of the building in search for the trapdoor to his stash of weapons and armor, paid for by his large family inheritance some time ago, and bolstered by the profits made off of his hunting and mercenary work. The trapdoor was a simple iron-banded and steel-riveted trapdoor with an iron latch, hidden beneath a bush and a layer of grassy dirt. By no means was it an expert hiding spot, but so one who passed through Riverwood ever searched the rears of the buildings for secret doors underneath bushes, so his stash was mostly safe.
After opening the trapdoor, Valrulf simply jumped into the dark opening it offered, surprising Ayala, who expected a ladder to climb. She followed him down with some slight trepidation, not quite used to diving into unknown orifices in the basements of strange buildings. Nonetheless, she braved a jump into the trapdoor and landed with a small grunt, bending at the knees as she winced from the small stab of pain in her calves. That was certainly a jump designed for people with longer legs and taller bodies. As the feeling in her legs returned to her, she looked up to spot a brazier lit in the center of the room, courtesy of the Ovzul.
When the light from the brazier reflected off of a plethora of metal-tinted, shiny objects, she opened her eyes wide and gazed upon the many suits of iron, steel, studded-leather, and plate armors that were hanging on walls and adorning mannequins. There were at least twenty different sets of armor, each with unique designs or engravings upon their chestpieces and pauldrons, some with similar markings on their grieves and bracers as well. On the table in the center of the room were plenty of blades, each a different size and weight.
She was pulled from her awe at the arsenal when she noticed that Valrulf was tugging his prisoner's clothing over his head and standing in front of another table that held a massive set of comfortable and flexible clothing and a full set of chain-mail armor, most likely for wearing underneath another set of armor. She swiftly turned her head when she caught sight of Valrulf's "unmentionable" areas, feeling the most intense heat behind her cheeks that she had ever experienced.
Her eyes traveled down from that area and traced his thighs and calves, then back up to his torso as his muscles flexed when he reached for the clothes on the table. Her breath caught in her chest, and her thoughts trailed far, far away from where they should have been. When a shirt interrupted the sight of his chest, she snapped out of her staring contest with his torso. She let out a cough and then stared up at the ceiling of the basement, ignoring the large man's chuckles as he finished clothing himself.
Ayala turned her head back to him when she heard the clinking of chain-mail over chain-mail, watching him put the hefty links of metal over his entire body as if it hindered absolutely none of his movements, which was likely considering the level of expertise he had shown when annihilating her unnamed squad of men earlier. Outfitted in a full-body sock of chain-mail, Valrulf slinked over to a set of armor which particularly caught Ayala's eye, being engraved with what looked like spirals of wind in embroidering gold all over the metal plates.
Valrulf surprisingly needed no help getting on the armor, and managed in five minutes what Ayala was sure would have taken her hours. He was soon standing in front of her in a full set of engraved and embroidered steel plate armor, a forged steel greatsword (which really acted as a longsword considering his massive size) on his back and a kited tower shield on his left arm. His helmet was couched under his right armpit, waiting for him to put it on. With his defined facial features and the eyes of a tricky devil, Ayala thought he looked quite fetching in a full set of special armor, though she thought he would look better if she could see him out of it again.
"So, how do I look now that I'm in this recreation of my old gear? It's a remake of the armor I wore two years ago, when I was a particularly effective mercenary," he questioned. He did not receive an answer. Instead, he stopped polishing the chestpiece of his armor with a rag and looked up to see his companion (who he had caught looking at him earlier) staring blankly at him. He shook his head and put on his helmet, a great-helm that matched the embroidery of his armor, walking forward and practically dragging Ayala to the trapdoor by the arm. She did not stop staring up at him as he reached the opening in the ground.
"She's like a schoolgirl with a deep infatuation, that girl is," Lod said as he looked Ayala up and down, noting her absent look as she stared at the armored man in the room with them. Her eyes had not left Valrulf's armored form since he had put on the armor, and so he had practically had to plant her into a chair by pushing her down by her shoulders.
"I don't even think she can hear you, Lod. I haven't seen it this bad since Ruthla Daggershield back when we were in our late teens. She was always enamored with the soldiers when they marched into town, remember? Couldn't even get her to respond if you kicked her," Valrulf returned, sharing some stew with Lod, who had invited himself and Ayala to stay for a late dinner before they headed to the inn nearby for a night's rest.
"You were a mercenary back then, as well. Caught her staring at you more than once, I did. We always did hate waiting a full year for you to show back up with some new adventure story you had about yourself and your mercenary friends," Lod finished, sipping at his stew and watching Valrulf stir his own food.
"Ah, speaking of adventures, when should we stop by to collect that studded leather set I bought for Ayala over there?" the armored Nord asked.
"Come pick it up tomorrow morning. I already had a set mostly done for display- should fit her well enough, though," Lod replied, though he stopped what he was going to say next when he heard a noise from Ayala, who shuffled around and looked around the room as if she had no idea how she had gotten into the building. When she regained her senses, she looked at the table with the two men sitting at it and found both of them staring at her expectantly.
"What? What!?" she asked, and then nearly shouted. Both of the men in the room broke into raucous laughter as they realized that she had hardly noticed she had been staring for at least ten minutes.
"Nothing, lass, nothing. We just discovered why you really joined the Imperial Legion," Valrulf managed through laughter.
"I told you I joined up because I didn't think my family business was the right way to go. Why do you think I joined?" she indignantly repulsed.
"You like a man in uniform," Lod replied.
Both men broke into laughter again. Ayala just scowled.
The night broke not long after the trio had enjoyed their supper together, and so Valrulf finally bade adieu to Lod and dragged Ayala along with him to the inn, where they rented two rooms for the night. The fairer of the two followed the more masculine one into his room to see if he needed help taking off his armor (at least, that was what she told herself), but had been shocked to see him lie down on the bed in his full set of plate armor with chain-mail underneath.
"What in Talos's name do you think you're doing!?" she hushedly and rushedly whispered, confused and a bit afflicted by the thought of sleeping in heavy armor.
"Doesn't everyone sleep in their armor?"