Now, it would be completely irresponsible to assume that during this exchange and brief meet of fate, that the world froze, that markets closed and all waited with baited breath for the outcome of the encounter. No, it would however, be more accurate to believe that not a damn person was even aware of the event, that no one peaked out windows for the arrival of one or the other, that all of Cyrodiil, all of Tamriel, simply...was. No, it is safe to assume that life went on.
Not but a three day's journey away, in the Imperial City a war raged.
Not a war of fist's and blood mind you, but rather a war that involved the biting of nails to the quick, and the flash of avarice in a street passerby.
The chill of the Morning Star reflected against the cobblestone, rang against doorknockers and crept along windowsills. Snow began to fall once more, drifting along windows, politely begging entrance and then falling with disappointment to the ground.
It was evening's like this that M'aima felt blessed by Rajhin to have been born with such a thick coat of fur.
The Khajiit, M'aima, drug lazy fingers through the fur of her cheek, rubbing the orange of her face against the brown of her hands. Loud laughter and chatter moved around the corner as Imperial men and women walked leisurely amongst one another's finery.
M'aima watched the small procession of merchants and ladies from the crevice of a building, her eyes sharp upon the pockets and hanging pouches.
She pushed off the building and pulled up her hood.
"M'aima asks the Silent Walker for his blessing. She does not wish for trouble."
An older imperial man, taller than M'aima herself, walked a bit slower than the rest of the group, his eyes wandering along the edge of the streets and catching on the stalls and windows. His foot, clad in fine leather and draped in a soft blue cloth. The blue cloth caught beneath M'aimas nimble foot and his arms waved wildly about as he tripped forward.
Now, if you were watching closely, you would've seen M'aima grip the man's upper arm in an almost reassuring way, as her other hand dipped past his waist and into and past his purse strings. She gripped the fabric and pulled it to her chest, where she gracefully placed it beneath the folds of her robe.
Theatrically M'aima brought her hands to the sides of her head and let out a small wail.
"M'aima did not mean trip the rich man! She only meant to walk past him!" She widened her eyes and bent backwards slightly.
The older man seemed surprised, and disgusted, before he pulled away from her in a huffing fashion.
"Damn vermin."
M'aima maintained her distraught pose until she was certain that the man wouldn't be coming back to confront her anytime soon. Dipping forwards and back into the crowd, she crossed the cobbled path and followed it along the opposite direction of the still continuing procession. She stopped at the doorstep of The King and Queen tavern, dark eyes fixed on the swinging wooden sign above her head. With a sigh, she pushed her way in.
The tavern was brimming with patrons, almost ridiculously so. Some sat in dim corners, eyes on their own drinks, while others still boasted about, singing or laughing.
M'aima ignored these people, as they were not the one's she was here to join with, instead her eyes roamed the bar, searching and finding what she was looking for. With a huff she sat next to a redguard man, his thin haircut and hard eyes were easily spotted in the crowd, and she handed him the pouch of coins and jewels. He didn't look at her as he lifted it slightly, testing the wait, and peered inside.
He gave an approving grunt and placed the pouch in his breast pocket.
"Not half bad, Tadpole."
M'aima hissed at the nickname. Though her current official guild position was 'Toad', he still insisted on calling her Tadpole, demeaning her slowly growing skill.
"Talk to S'Krivva, she has something for you."
"What if M'aima does not want to speak with S'Krivva, hmm?"
The red guard man smiled humorlessly, and tilted his head in a mocking way.
"Oh? Little kitten doesn't want to talk? Would you rather have a scratch behind the ears for all your good work?"
M'aima pushed off the bar and stormed off. She'd show him, the bastard.
Four days later, in the Imperial City
"Here we are, the Imperial city. Isn't she just a beauty?" The balding carriage driver asked his passengers. A scrawny male Khajiit, an intimidating elder Nord man, and Ajal, who sat slightly withdrawn from the others, her eyes wide in approving fascination.
"Yes, it's quite beautiful. You said that they were in the process of renovations of some kind?" She trailed off, not actually as interested in his answer as she seemed. The man seemed to think for a moment or two before his lips pursed.
"Aye, they found some structural errors in the sewers. They finished construction just a fortnight ago." the balding man look back conspiratorially "There've been rumors of thieves making their home down there. Bloody madness if you ask me."
The carriage halted under the drivers harsh pull on the reins. The mares pulling eased up and whinnied in annoyance, as the weight of the yolk bit their darkened fur.
"Off you go you lot. I've got other business I must attend to. I bid your stay in the city to be a good one."
The Khajiit was the first off of the carriage, leather boots landing in the drying dust with a snap. He moved about as he dug around for his belongings. "This one has enjoyed the trip with you all. M'aiq wishes to show gratitude for your kindness."
Ajal noted the Khajiits lip spread in a strange grimace that was clearly a large grin. She returned it, eyes closing briefly. The Nord watched the exchange with mild interest, before he too stood and removed himself from the carriage, his knapsack clanked slightly as he shifted his weight.
"I must be off as well, the forge waits for no man." He paused and eyed Ajal for a moment, "Girl."
"Hmm?"
"If you ever need a blade or something to defend yourself, come find me, Eirnein Broken-Sword. I'll take care of you." His gruff voice was laced with kindness and Ajal smiled. She had had an interesting time on the carriage, as it traveled the three day journey, exchanging rumors with M'aiq, and listening to stories of Skyrim from Eirnein, a luck trodden black smith.
As they parted ways, Eirnein toward the northern gate and M'aiq to speak with passerby's that caught his interest, Ajal fiddled with the strap of her pouch, being sure to secure it to her waist and just beneath the hem of her wool shawl. She breathed out, her breath turning to fog in front of her. She kicked at the snow on the ground for a moment, before she moved forward.
Her fingers traced a barely noticeable outline on her waist, where her newly found dagger lay concealed. It wasn't sharp and hadn't been used for anything other than cutting the rope that had bound her.
Still, she could not bring herself to be rid of the object. Perhaps, it was because Eirnein had been right, that she needed something to protect herself. Perhaps she was just stuck in a stalemate, unsure how to continue. Or perhaps it was simply that she did not wish to forget the man with the blood stained boots, cold voice and hard eyes.
Ajal stared up at the spires just beyond the city gates, breathed in, out. And stepped across the threshold.
Now, Ajal had never been to the imperial city in her lifetime, and was slightly put off by the pure size of the place. During her wide eyed observations she had failed to notice the darkly hooded approaching figure, that is, until after they bumped into her and caused her to lose balance and land straight on her bum.
Ajal made a sound of confused terror as she hit the slick ground, eyes shut tightly.
"This one is sorry, she did not mean to knock over the pretty girl. M'aima apologizes." A voice that sounded distant and scratchy apologized calmly. Ajal looked up and squinted at the orange and brown Khajiit.
"It's um...it's fine. Just startled me that's all." She said embarrassed, head turned towards her feet as she stared at the pale rock of the road. It was then that Ajal noted the bottom of her pouch had a hole in it, torn rather adeptly, large enough for a small hand to fit in.
"Hey y-" She jerked her head up, about to demand an explanation, but was met with an empty space.
She pivoted about desperately, but there was no sign of the Khajiit. Ajal moved forward quickly and darted her head back and forth, checking the roads that led off, as well as any hiding places.
She did a quick inventory and groaned.
"Damn."
The three hundred septims that she had started off with, were now a rather unimpressive one hundred, the back up coin that you kept in a separate pocket of the pouch. Everything else worth anything was gone.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She whispered harshly to herself, pulling her pouch close to her, eyes on everyone that passed her.
She kept moving.
