"Time to wake up, lass," said the cart driver. "We're almost there."
Keolah groaned and stirred. The cart wasn't exactly the best place to be sleeping, but it certainly beat the stone beds in Markarth. "Are we at Winterhold yet?"
"Winterhold!?" the driver said. "You wanted to go to Winterhold?"
"Uh... maybe? I don't know," Keolah said. "I can't keep these Nord towns straight. I know it started with a W... or maybe a V depending on who was saying it..."
"Well, we're at Whiterun now," the driver said as the cart trundled to a stop. "If you want to go somewhere else, you can find me, or someone else with a cart, at the stables."
"I'm pretty sure there was something I needed to do in Whiterun," Keolah said, climbing out. "Thanks for the lift."
The sun was already starting to sink toward the horizon as she approached the city gates. A guard stopped her as she came up.
"Halt! The city's closed with all the dragons about. We're only letting in people who have official business here."
Keolah stared at him. "That's the most daft thing I've heard lately. What, are you afraid that people might actually come here looking for protection? And what about trade?"
"Don't look at me. I'm just following orders."
"Your orders are idiotic, and I'll be sure to tell your superiors that when I speak with them," Keolah said.
"So you do have official business here?" the guard asked. "News of dragon attacks?"
"Dragons! I got a good, up-close look at a huge dragon that attacked a village near the border," Keolah said.
"You were at Helgen?" the guard said, eyes widening. "You're lucky to get out of there alive. You'd best head in. The jarl will want to hear of this right away. You can find the keep at the top of the hill."
"Thank you," Keolah said, and headed inside.
Just inside the gates, she came across a man arguing with a blacksmith woman about a weapons order. From the sounds of things, they were both Imperial supporters. As she approached, the man turned to her.
"Battle-Born or Gray-Mane?" asked the man.
"Don't look at me," Keolah said. "I have a hard time telling men apart sometimes. For that matter, I can't tell Mer apart sometimes, either. Maybe you should all wear different colored outfits? Perhaps carry around signs with your names on them?"
The Nord snorted softly. "Might make things easier. You're new in town, I take it? The two main clans in Whiterun are Gray-Mane and Battle-Born. But the Gray-Manes support the Stormcloaks, while we Battle-Borns remained loyal to the Empire. So I'll ask again. Which side are you on?"
Keolah looked him over. He was a large, muscular Nord with a sword at his belt and worn armor on his body. No doubt he knew how to use it. "Pardon me for saying so, Mr. Battle-Born, but if I were a supporter of the Stormcloaks, do you really think I would be foolish enough to come out and say so to you?"
"So you are a traitor, but you're too cowardly to say so openly?" Battle-Born said. "Then you're even worse than the Gray-Manes."
Keolah rolled her eyes. "That's so not what I said. Bah! You Nords make no sense. What do you want me to say? Sure, I love the Battle-Borns, even though I'd never heard of them until five minutes ago! Come on, really now? And I've never even met a Gray-Mane."
"Let's make this simple for you then," Battle-Born said. "Do you support the Empire, or are you another traitor that wants to bend knee to Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Do you interrogate every traveler that comes through those gates?" Keolah said.
"You're avoiding the question."
Keolah didn't think there was any good answer to this. Ulfric was a good man who saved her life. The Empire had tried to execute her for no good reason, and she still wasn't sure just what she'd done wrong. But she wasn't here to start a fight if she could help it. There were way too many armed guards around.
"I'm just a humble traveler who is far from home," Keolah said. "I know little of politics in Skyrim, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Sooner or later, we all have to choose a side," Battle-Born said, walking away. "Long live the Empire!"
Grumbling a little to herself and generally unhappy about her reception here, Keolah headed further into town and soon came to a marketplace. And very nearly ran into the town drunk.
"I'm almost sober!" said the drunk. "Can you bring me a bottle of Argonian ale from the inn over there?"
"Uh, sure, okay," Keolah said uncertainly.
As she started to head toward the inn in question, she almost ran into someone else, a woman this time.
"I'm looking to become a merchant!" the woman said.
"That's nice," Keolah replied.
"I've been talking to the leader of one of the Khajiit caravans, who offered to help me get started if I could bring him a mammoth's tusk," she went on. "But where am I supposed to get one of those?"
"From a mammoth, most likely," Keolah said.
"I was hoping I might be able to buy one from someone. If you ever run across one, I'll buy it off of you for a good price."
"I'm not going to go kill mammoths for you," Keolah said.
"No, you don't really look like a warrior, but you're a traveler, aren't you? If you ever run across one, you could make a fine profit if you brought it to me!"
"Oh, alright, I'll keep an eye out, I suppose."
As she walked away from the woman, she wondered what it was that she was doing. Eh, she couldn't remember. She went over to browse the market stalls instead to see if they had anything interesting. As she did so, she overheard an argument between another couple of Nords.
"And what of my dear son, Thorald?" said the woman.
"What, do you think I'm keeping him prisoner in my cellar?" said the man. "Face it! He died a traitor, like all the other Stormcloaks will."
As the man walked off, Keolah approached the woman. "Gray-Mane, I'm guessing?"
"Fralia Gray-Mane," said the woman, nodding to her. "All I can think about is my poor lost son. But I know he's still alive!"
"How can you be sure?" Keolah wondered.
"I just know it," Fralia said. "I can feel it."
"Oh, I understand. I get those feelings sometimes, too. Of course, it's usually just flatulence..."
"Come, let's speak more in private, and I'll tell you all about it."
Keolah followed as Fralia lead her off away from the marketplace. As they walked through, they passed by a couple who were arguing, apparently about a sword.
"Is your sword more important than your wife?" the woman retorted.
"I just need to hire a good mercenary to retrieve it from those bandits!" said the Redguard man. He then turned to Keolah. "Say, have you tried mercenary work? It might suit you."
"I'm a mage, not a mercenary, but I suppose I wouldn't be averse to incinerating bandits for pay," Keolah said. "What do you need done?"
"Some bandits stole my father's old sword. He fed his entire family with the gold he made using it!"
"So, isn't it a bit counterproductive to make your own family starve to bring it back?" Keolah said, raising an eyebrow.
"Now you're sounding like my wife. Look, if you can bring it back, I'll be grateful to you. I know where the bandits are. I'll mark the location on your map."
"Sure, I suppose if I'm in the area, I'll take a look," Keolah said.
Fralia had paused nearby to wait for her. "You're such a good soul, wanting to help everyone you come across. Here, come inside."
Once inside with the door closed, a beefy young Nord man with an enormous battle-axe came out and waved it at her. "Who have you brought into our home, mother? We can't trust anyone! She might be spying for the Battle-Borns!"
"Meep!" Keolah said, and hid behind the nearest chair. "Don't hurt me! I didn't do it! At least, I don't think I did! This time! Probably!"
"Avulstein, put that down!" Fralia said. "This nice elven mage is here to help us find Thorald!"
"And what if she tells someone I'm here?" Avulstein said. "They'll kill me if they find out I'm here!"
"I'm with Ulfric, alright?" Keolah said. "I support the Stormcloaks!" She timidly lifted her head up above the furniture as Avulstein lowered his weapon.
"Why would a high elf want to support the Stormcloaks?" Avulstein wondered.
"Ulfric is a good man! He helped me and he saved my life," Keolah said.
Avulstein looked at her appraisingly for a long moment before nodding tersely and putting his axe away. "Alright. Fine. So you want to help find my brother?"
"Absolutely," Keolah said.
"I know he still lives, and the Imperials are holding him captive somewhere. And I think the Battle-Borns might have some proof in their house that they've been lying about this the entire time. If you can find it, and find out where, we would be grateful."
Keolah nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
Outside the house, she ran across a man in robes who seemed to be preaching. "Have you come to hear the word of Talos?"
"You're awfully open with your worship," Keolah said. "I'm surprised the Thalmor haven't gotten you yet."
"I do not fear the Thalmor. Let them come! Talos will protect me! Wait, you aren't with the Thalmor yourself, are you, high elf?"
"Oh, no no no no. No way. I wouldn't even want to dress like those scum."
"I'm glad to hear that," the Nord man said. "It heartens me to think that even a high elf might honor the wisdom of Talos. He was the greatest of the Nords! He united all of Tamriel! And he was so great that when he died, the Divines themselves rose him up to be their new lord!"
"Yes, certainly," Keolah agreed hurriedly. "I'd love to stay and chat all night about Talos, but I do have things to do. Perhaps another time. Farewell."
She quickly ducked into the nearest building. This was a large hall with a table around a warm hearth, covered in delicious smelling food that reminded her that she hadn't eaten yet today. However, off to one side of the room, a brawl appeared to be going on at the moment.
"Maybe I've come at a bad time," Keolah murmured.
Well, they appeared to be pretty distracted at the moment, and she was awfully hungry. Surely they wouldn't notice a sweetroll going missing. She quietly crept over to the table and swiped one off of it, and began munching on the delicious pastry.
A large Nord tapped her on the shoulder. "I think you've been taking things that don't belong to you."
Keolah looked up, crumbs falling from her mouth. "I'm sorry. I was hungry, and I didn't think anyone would notice."
"Pay up, and we'll forget about this, alright?"
"I suppose just giving it back isn't an option?" Keolah said.
"You've already eaten half of it!" the Nord said.
Keolah pulled a couple of septims out of her money pouch and handed them over to him. "There. Will that suffice?"
"Good enough. I'm sure this won't happen again."
For all that, she figured that she might as well quietly finish her sweetroll in peace. On the other side of the room, the brawl was ending and the small crowd breaking up. Keolah licked her fingers and went over to chat.
"Ah, new blood, huh? Hope you know how to handle yourself," said one of them.
"What is this place, anyway? Is this an inn?"
"Nah, this is Jorrvaskr, the mead-hall of the Companions," the Nord replied.
"Who?" Keolah wondered.
"The finest group of warriors in all of Skyrim."
"Oh," Keolah said. "I see."
This didn't really seem to be her sort of thing, and she was somewhat embarrassed about the sweetroll incident, so she decided to leave, and then proceeded to get turned around and go through the wrong door. She wound up in a small office of some sort, with a couple of bookshelves and a desk. On top of the desk, there was a large, curved tusk from some large animal. Probably a mammoth.
"Hmm," Keolah said thoughtfully. Didn't somebody in town want a mammoth tusk for something or other? Quietly, she closed the door behind her so that nobody would see her pick it up, and grabbed the tusk. It was awfully large and unwieldy, but she hauled it carefully to the door, opened it again and guided it through.
"Where do you think you're going with that?" said the Nord who'd confronted her about the sweetroll before.
"Huh?" Keolah said. "What are you talking about?"
"That mammoth tusk. You stole that, too, didn't you?"
"You didn't see me take it!" Keolah insisted.
"Maybe not, but you didn't have a mammoth tusk when you came in, and now you have a mammoth tusk and the one that was sitting on the desk is missing."
"You can't prove it was me!" Keolah said.
The Nord looked at her like she was insane. She was used to that sort of look. "You're standing there, holding the tusk! How much more proof do I need?"
"But you didn't see me pick it up," Keolah said.
"It looks like we've got ourselves the worst thief in Whiterun," another man said dryly.
"Would it be better if I came back to try to swipe it again later after everyone's gone to sleep?" Keolah asked.
An older man laughed aloud at that. "I'll give you points for boldness, if nothing else, elf. Tell you what, if you want that tusk so badly. If you can make it out of the mead-hall with that thing with all of us trying to stop you, you can keep it."
"Okay," Keolah said.
Gripping the mammoth tusk tightly, she darted away from the group of Nords (plus one dark elf) who were almost surrounding her by that point. She ran over to the table and jumped over the hearth, very nearly catching herself on fire as she did so.
"Get the high elf!"
"I'll sit on you!"
The Companions seemed to be taking this all to be good fun. They didn't seem all that concerned about the theft. As they gathered to try to keep her from slipping out through the front door, she managed to scramble out through the back way instead. She didn't expect the back porch to be cluttered with chairs and tables, however, and tripped over a chair leg. Keolah went sprawling to the ground, the tusk flying out of her hands and tumbling several feet away.
A Nord came out of the mead-hall, laughing. They were mocking her, and rightly so. "You're a good sport. A bad thief, but a good sport." He helped her to her feet.
"Um. Thanks," Keolah said, brushing herself off.
"Run along now. Oh, and if you try to steal from us again, we might try to stop you with weapons next time."
"I'll... keep that in mind, thanks," Keolah said. She picked up the mammoth tusk and ran off before they could change their minds.
After finding the woman who had wanted the tusk and getting it off her hands for some septims, she went off to find the Battle-Born residence. It was after dark by the time she found it, and she'd annoyed a few citizens by knocking on the wrong doors before somebody finally gave her directions that she could follow. Namely, pointing and saying, "It's right there!"
Keolah knocked on the door to House Battle-Born, and a Nord came to answer the door. "Hello? You're not selling something, are you?"
"Selling something?" Keolah repeated. "Well, I suppose I do have a few things I'd like to get rid of if you're interested."
"We're not interested!" Battle-Born said, and closed the door in her face.
"How rude," Keolah muttered. "If he didn't want to buy anything, why did he ask?"
Well, if they weren't going to let her in, she'd just have to let herself in. This looked like a job for... the worst thief in Whiterun! Keolah quietly crept around toward the back of the house.
"Are you trying to hide?" drawled the town drunk. "Cause I can see you plain as day."
"Hush," Keolah said.
"Weren't you going to get me some ale from the inn?"
"I'll get it in a bit, alright?" Keolah whispered. "I'll even bring you extra if you can make a distraction for me. Get the guards to look the other way."
"Oh, sure, I can do that," the drunk said. "But you'll owe me!"
As the drunk went off to make some noise for the guards, Keolah broke in the back door of House Battle-Born. There was nobody in the main room now. So far so good. Now, what had that one said in the market? They were keeping him prisoner in the cellar? Hmm, where might the cellar be?
Keolah went to look around, and promptly got distracted by the kitchen. There was venison, cheese, bread, potatoes, pie... her stomach rumbled as she passed it. No, now wasn't the time to be getting distracted. She had work to do here. And then she saw the sweetroll, and snatched it up in the blink of an eye. Surely they wouldn't miss one sweetroll.
After hiding in a corner and quietly munching on the sweetroll, she returned to searching the house, and promptly tripped over a cauldron, sending it clattering across the floor. Oops. Surely somebody had to have heard that. Keolah hid and froze for several long moments, but nobody came running. They must be fast asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed out to search some more.
She stepped into a bedroom with a woman asleep on the bed. Carefully she tried to creep along without waking her, resulting in her bumping into the desk and sending things scattering to the floor.
The woman mumbled, half-asleep, "Watch what you're doing, Lars! Be more careful!"
"Sorry, mother," Keolah said quietly, and the woman proceeded to go back to sleep.
There was a locked door at the far side of the room. Surely that would lead into the cellar. Hmm, but how to get it open? Keolah pulled out some lockpicks and started to get to work on it. She wasn't very good at this, however. One by one, all the tools she had that might work as lockpicks snapped.
"Oh, bother," Keolah muttered under her breath. "Forget this."
The door was made of wood. Wood burned. She called up her magic and set the door on fire. The woman remained asleep, at least until Keolah kicked through the flaming door to get to the other side when it didn't burn through fast enough.
There wasn't any cellar on the other side, but a small office. So much for thinking of rescuing the Gray-Mane lad. If he was in this house, it wasn't here. Keolah frantically searched through the office looking for anything else that might be useful.
"What's going out?" came shouts from outside the room. "The house is on fire!"
No time for subtlety. Keolah grabbed every scrap of paper on the desk and shoved them in her bag, and leapt out through the flaming door.
"What is that elf doing in here? Get her!"
Keolah raced out through the main room, flicking fire spells left and right to set a few more things ablaze to distract her pursuers. She stumbled over the hearth, shoved a pie and a bottle of mead into her bag, and barely made it out the back door in front of a handful of angry Nords.
"I thought you were just going to rob the place, not burn it down!" the town drunk said, meeting her outside after she'd lost the Battle-Borns. "You're on fire, by the way."
"Ack!" Keolah said, smothering the flaming ends of her hair. "Well, I grabbed something for you along the way, anyhow." She handed him the mead.
"Thanks kindly. Best part ways before the guards show up."
Keolah slipped in the back door of House Gray-Mane, making sure to stay out of sight as best as possible. Which, she admitted, was not very good.
"What did you do, Elf?" wondered Avulstein. "We saw the fire from here!"
"We just wanted you to look for evidence, not burn down their house!" Fralia said.
"Um... It was an accident? Sort of? Partially?" Keolah said, pulling out the stolen pie and munching on it. "I mean, I was just trying to burn a door down, not the whole house. Besides, most of it's probably made out of stone anyway."
Avulstein snorted softly. "Well, they had it coming, anyway. Did you find any evidence?"
Keolah pulled out the papers she'd grabbed out of her bag. "Let's see. Shopping list, something about their young child being bullied by a girl, important looking Imperial missive..."
"Let me see that!" Avulstein said, grabbing it and scanning over it. "The Thalmor? Northwatch Keep? By Talos, this is worse than I thought!"
"It's probably about the whole Talos thing," Keolah said lightly.
"Well, yeah, most likely," Avulstein said. "Still, we'll march and assault Northwatch Keep. You'll join us, I hope?"
"You're going to just attack the place?" Keolah said. "Surely there's a better way to do it."
"You don't mean to try diplomacy with the Thalmor, do you?"
"Nah, don't be silly. This is the Thalmor we're talking about," Keolah said, snickering softly. "No, I was thinking of sneaking him out with my mad stealth skills."
Avulstein looked out the window. There were shouts outside, smoke rising from House Battle-Born, flames flicking in the window. "You know, now that you mention it, I don't think I'd want my men there when you set the place on fire anyway. Just do try to get my brother out alive and not too badly singed, alright?"
"I'll see what I can do," Keolah said brightly.
It was already pretty late, so Keolah headed over to the inn, whistling a little as she went. Guards ignored her as they ran past, and people were trying to get the fire out, hauling buckets from the river to try to douse it.
The local inn was called the Bannered Mare, and looked to be a comfortable enough place. She went up to the woman behind the bar and said, "Do you have actual beds here? That aren't made of stone?"
The innkeeper chuckled and said, "You've been to Markarth, haven't you. Yes, we have real beds here. Looking for a room for the night?"
"Oh, thank the Divines," Keolah said. "Yes, please."
She paid for her room, and turned around to see the town drunk sitting on a bench by the hearth. He winked at her. Right, she was going to try to swipe some ale for him.
Keolah nonchalantly strolled into the kitchen, looked around to make sure nobody was there, grabbed a bottle of ale, and returned to him. Easy enough. "Here you go."
"Thanks," the drunk said. "But this isn't Argonian ale. It's just regular, cheap ale."
"Oh? Oops." She went back to the kitchen, retrieved another bottle, and brought it back to him.
"Thanks, but this is Nord mead."
"I really don't know my alcohol." She went back into the kitchen and returned with another bottle.
"And this is wine," the drunk said. He seemed to be perfectly happy to keep her mistakes, however.
"Sorry," Keolah said. She went and brought back another bottle.
"Beer."
And another bottle.
"I don't even know what this stuff is." He opened it up to try it anyway.
Back to the kitchen again for another attempt.
"Aha! Now this is the good stuff!" the drunk said. "Argonian ale... mmm..."
"You're welcome," Keolah said brightly.
As she headed upstairs to her room, however, the guards burst into the inn. "Halt! You have committed crimes against the jarl and the hold!"
"I didn't do it," said the drunk.
"Not you!" the guard said. "The high elf!"
"What did I do?" Keolah said. "I mean, that I got caught with."
The guard glared at her. "Arson. Do you have anything else you'd like to confess while we're at it?"
"Can you prove it was me?" Keolah asked.
"The Battle-Borns gave a very clear description of the high elf who set fire to their house and was seen fleeing the scene of the crime," the guard said. "Also, your hair is slightly singed."
Keolah sighed. "Fine. I'll come along quietly. I guess I'll be spending the night in a cell rather than the inn." She went over to the innkeeper. "Can I get a refund on my room? I'm being arrested."
The woman stared at her for a moment, but handed back her coins. Keolah then went off quietly with the guards. She had no particular desire to attempt to fight her way out of this.
"Smart woman. Come along with us."
Keolah wasn't too thrilled about spending the night in a cell, either. However, when they arrived at the keep and she was deposited in the dungeon, she found that it was still more comfortable than the inn in Markarth. At least the cot wasn't made of stone.