Chapter 7
Omiq
Omiq shivered. Used as he was to Skyrim's cold, Karthwasten was brutal; especially in this time of the year.
Even so, he placed his paw atop the tombstone and continued. "Blessings of the Nine Divines upon the Imperial, for she was the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved" – he glanced at the name etched on the rock - "Katerina. May Katerina's soul forever tread the path of righteousness and inspire those dear to her to uphold their humanity. In the name of Arkay and His Divine Providence, this one, as His humble servant, bids her farewell on her final departure." With a pause, he added, "Rest in peace."
Sighing, the Khajiit rose to his feet and brought his palms together for a final prayer for the departed girl. He then clapped twice and turned around.
"I must say, it's difficult for me to believe that a Khajiit can act as a priest of Arkay."
Omiq simply smiled. He was used to such observations.
"This one is but a humble servant of Arkay," he said, walking up to the Breton man who had employed his services. "The Breton can believe what he will. It does not change that which is true, nya."
Ainethach stroked his chin and started walking. "So, how much do I owe you?"
"Omiq does not charge for issuing funeral rites, but he is curious about how such a young girl came to meet her end, nya," Omiq said, falling into step beside his employer.
The Breton man walked into his house, Omiq in tow. Offering a chair to the Khajiit, he himself occupied another.
"She was raped," Ainethach said gravely before sighing and shaking his head.
Omiq pulled on his whiskers, his brows furrowed. "This one sees. That was the cause of death, was it?"
"No. the girl took her own life. Couldn't bear the shame of it, I guess."
"How old was she?"
"Seventeen."
Silence fell between the two.
Omiq was the one to break it. "Do you know who did it?"
The Breton snorted. "Are you joking? The whole blasted village knows who did it. It was those Divine forsaken Silver-Blood mercenaries."
"Mercenaries?"
"Yes. I'm one of the few native sons of the Reach that owns land. It doesn't make me very popular."
"Ah. The Breton speaks of the Silver-Blood family of Markarth." Omiq mused, "Why would they send mercenaries, this one wonders, nya."
Ainethach nodded, "The Silver-Bloods want to… protect," he spat out the last word, "the Reach from the Forsworn. These thugs have been 'generously' hired by them to defend the mines. They're trying to intimidate me into selling the mine;they say that nobody can mine from it unless the ownership is settled upon and they've blockaded the mine for that purpose. They know that the townspeople are angry… that's why they've holed up in the mine, the cowardly lowlifes. It's my mine, and it is not for sale."
Omiq nodded in understanding. "This one wishes to change the topic. Can the Breton provide a hearth and some food for Omiq? It is nearly evening and this one does not wish to walk all the way back to Solitude."
Ainethach considered this. "I could. But it will cost you."
"How much?"
"Hmm. For a hearth and food, I'd say about fifty Septims."
Omiq chuckled. "The Breton should know better than to rip off Khajiit, but this one accepts the offer."
They were interrupted by a heavy thumping from the direction of the front door.
"We know you're in there, village head. Come out and meet us properly; don't worry, we've only come to negotiate… again."
"Sons of bitches…" Ainethach swore under his breath and got up. Omiq watched as the man strode over to the door and opened it, revealing the so-called mercenaries.
They were a rag-tag bunch from what Omiq could tell; nothing worth losing sleep over.
The leader was another story, though.
The man was clad in full steel plate armor from helm to boot, an axe hanging on his hip.
"There is no negotiating," Ainethach stated, "I want you sellswords out of my mine."
"Watch your tongue, half-blood. We will leave as soon as we are sure that there are no Forsworn here."
"And when will that be, I wonder?" Ainethach crossed his arms over his chest. "When I sell my land to the Silver-Bloods? Or when you've desecrated the purity of another innocent girl?"
"The Silver-Blood's have made you a very generous offer for this pile of dirt. I suggest you take it. As for the girl," the Nord mercenary smirked, "Well, she was at the wrong place at the right time. It gets boring you see, making sure the mine is safe, you know. The boys wanted some entertainment."
"How could you?!"
The leader shrugged. "Not our fault she ended herself. We didn't force her to do that."
"You bastards!" Ainethach cried out, shaking with rage. He was stopped by Omiq who had placed his paw on the Breton's shoulder. "This one believes that there is no reason for conflict at the moment, is there?"
"Who in Oblivion are you?" the leader asked, sounding smug.
Omiq bowed graciously. "This one goes by the name of Omiq, a humble priest of Arkay; at your service, nya."
"Well, aren't you a well mannered ball of fluff," one of the mercenaries said, resulting in the others exploding into a fit of laughter.
"We'll leave for now… just because the cat provided us with some amount of entertainment. We'll be back later, though," the mercenary leader said as he turned and started walking away. "Count on it."
"I hate their lot." Ainethach said once the mercenaries were out of earshot.
"Omiq is inclined to agree with the Breton's sentiments, nya," Omiq replied. "This one also thinks that it would be in Ainethach's best interest to sell the mine, nya."
The Breton's jaw dropped. "Are you suggesting that-"
"Is it worth seeing the people get hurt, nya?"
"I-" Ainethach licked his lips. "You're right… my people come before anything. I should've realized that sooner."
"It is never too late to do the right thing, nya." Omiq smiled. "Now why doesn't the Breton write down a contract? This one shall deliver it himself."
"So let me get this straight," the mercenary in steel armor looked confused as he went over the deed. "The half-blood decided to sell the mine?"
"So it would seem," Omiq replied, amused. "The Breton has signed. The name of the buyer is left blank. All the mercenary has to do is to go back to Markarth and tell whoever sent him to fill in his or her name."
"You're a priest right?" the man enquired.
"Yes, indeed.."
The Nord chuckled and stuffed the deed inside his hip pouch. "You look like a walking talking sweet roll in those robes, cat."
His comment elicited another wave of laughter from his companions.
Omiq merely chuckled. "This one sees that the mercenaries are amused, nya."
"You can tell?" one of the thugs said in between fits of laughter and threw a coin purse his way. "You're exceptionally bright for a cat bastard! Here, your payment for helping us complete our job"
Omiq laughed aloud after pocketing his payment. "Amusing it is. However, this one has a question for the men."
"Go on. You've earned the right to ask us anything," the leader said. "It's the least we could do after the entertainment you've provided us."
"Did you really rape that girl?"
His sudden change in tone and speech startled the mercenaries. They looked at each other before one of them answered in the affirmative.
Omiq smiled. "I see. Do you know who Arkay is?"
He didn't pause for them to reply.
"Arkay is the God of the Cycle of Birth and Death. As such, I was called upon to deliver the girl her last rites. Do you know what I dislike? It's when people are taken before their time. It's a sad world we live in indeed," Omiq said and pulled back his hood. "You are a bunch of pigs, the lot of you. If you're old enough to fuck, you're old enough to kill. And if you're old enough to kill," he disrobed, allowing his clothes to hit the ground. "You can't complain if someone kills you, now can you?"
Beneath the robes, Omiq was clad in a pair of tan trousers and a blue tunic. Swords hung on either of his hips and he simply smiled at the thugs. "And your time is up."
Before anybody could react, Omiq had swiped at a nearby thug's throat, tearing out his windpipe with his claws. The man grabbed at his throat and fell to the ground in a heap. He wouldn't be getting up.
"Y-You're a priest!" another one shrieked. "You're not allowed to kill!"
"Can't I?" Omiq inspected his now bloodied nails. "Being a priest of Arkay, it is my duty to bring peace to the dead. Of course, I doubt Arkay would mind if I sent a few more souls His way; Him being used to handling untimely death and all that, you know?"
"You son of a bitch!"
Uttering a battle cry, the sellsword cried and charged at Omiq, swinging his steel battleaxe down at him.
"See, the thing with heavy, two handed weapons is that the attack stances are limited; you can only swing it down or sideways, making your moves very easy to read."
The mercenary gulped. Omiq flashed him a grin. The axe had hit the ground and Omiq was doing a handstand on its shaft, his face level with that of the sellsword; albeit upside-down. Folding his elbows, he leapt into the air and landed on his feet behind his attacker.
No sooner had he done so that another came at him, hand cocked back to deliver a punch. Smiling, Omiq arched backwards, letting the fist fly mere inches over his face before straightening. The Nord's momentum had carried him forwards and he was currently off-balance. The one with the axe was not.
He ducked under the horizontal slash of the thug. When the axe had sailed over his head, he leapt off his feet, landing his knee on the Nord's chin. He then jumped at the sellsword and launched himself into a back flip off the man's chest, landing with his palms on either side of another man's head, his legs thrust up into the air; the same guy who had tried to punch him.
"Goodnight," he smiled pleasantly and snapped his neck before landing on his feet.
He saw that only two remained now; the one with the battleaxe and the armor clad leader.
"I guess I'm outnumbered… whatever shall I do?" Omiq wondered aloud. "Oh, I know! I have these swords… perhaps I can use these."
Smiling brightly, he drew both blades gracefully and slowly. The confused looks on the face of the battleaxe wielding mercenary caused him immense pleasure. The expression of the other one he could not read, on account of the helm. He would do something about that very soon.
He himself looked at the blades and took a moment to appreciate their beauty. The blade was long and thin, dual edged, terminating in a sharp point. But that wasn't what was so amazing about the sword; it was the hilt which had caught their attention. The hilts were complex, designed to protect his hand. Rings extended to the sides from the crosspiece. There were also finger rings on either quillon, enabling him to place his index fingers on the ricasso. These rings were covered with metal plates. A fat pommel secured the hilt to the weapon and provided a balance to the long blade.
"It's called a rapier. Cyrodiilic, in case you're curious. It's understandable that you have never before seen anything like this. I don't think there are any smiths who forge rapiers in Skyrim," Omiq said and smirked. "Now then, shall we?"
He could see that the two were cautious; they had no idea how this weapon was used.
This ought to be fun!
Then the pig with the battleaxe charged, weapon raised over his head. Omiq crossed his blades and held them over his shoulder, blocking the descent of the two handed weapon.
He then thrust his hands outwards, throwing the man off balance and causing the axe to retrace its trajectory back upwards.
Bringing his arms back, Omiq thrust both blades forward, impaling the man through the neck in an 'X', killing him almost instantly.
Pulling his swords out of the man's throat, he shook the blood off of them. "And then there was only one… hmm, the blades have been nicked. That's what I get for recklessly hard-blocking a battleaxe. Oh well, I'll just have to fix them once I get back…"
He then focused his attention on the armor clad leader. "What's your name?"
"Atar," the Nord answered, his voice trembling. "Now now, no need to do anything rash… I'll leave, I'll leave!"
"Leave? No. You will depart." Omiq smiled gently, "As in, from Nirn."
"What-"
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Nine Divines upon you-"Omiq began, charging at Atar.
"For you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved Atar-"
Omiq sidestepped the wild slash from Atar's axe.
"You who would desecrate this land of the falling snow-"
Feinting with his left, Omiq caused Atar to slash at him.
"In the name of Arkay and his Divine Wrath-"
Omiq parried with his right and launched a riposte; a straight thrust which went cleanly through the gap in Atar's helm and through the man's eye.
"I, as His humble servant, hereby lay waste to thee-"
Pulling out the right blade, Omiq used his left to hit Atar on the chin, causing the helm to fly off his head.
"And expel thy vast defilement!"
He impaled Atar with his right rapier through the hollow beneath the man's chin, the blade cleanly exiting the top of his head. Omiq clicked his tongue. He had skewered the man's tongue in the process.
"Rest in peace, nya."
Omiq pulled out his blade gently and shook the blood off of it before sheathing both rapiers.
"You humans are among the most predictable and interesting things one can ever hope to find," Omiq said as he reached into Atar's pouch and retrieved the deed. "I guess that's why I love your kind so much, nya."
"The mercenaries have decided to leave."
They were buried deep in the mine, but Ainethach did not need to know that.
From the looks of it, Ainethach could not believe what he was hearing. "How did you manage to do that? Did you pay them off?"
"Omiq is poor Khajiit, he cannot afford such huge sums of money. Of course, where the Nords are, money is not an issue." Omiq smiled as he reached inside his robes and produced the piece of parchment and held it out to Ainethach. "The contract."
The Breton graciously accepted it. "You have done us a great service. I do not know how to thank… what in the name of Oblivion is the meaning of this?"
"This one has taken the liberty of filling in his name, as the Breton must have undoubtedly observed by now." Omiq grinned, interweaving his fingers and resting his chin atop them, his elbows resting on the table. "So, it would seem that this one is currently the owner of Sanuarach Mine, nya."
Ainethach didn't say a word. His lips were pressed into a hard line as he occupied a seat across Omiq.
"Of course, managing a mine, as the Breton will surely agree, is too much of a hassle."
"What are you suggesting?" the man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.
"This one is willing to sell it to the Breton," Omiq smirked. "But it will cost Ainethach."
"You're going to sell us our own land?" Ainetahch gnashed his teeth. "How much?"
"If you wish to get something, you have to pay the price, or so the saying goes." Omiq said, a smirk still etched across his features. "Well, to my untrained eye, the value of the mine and all the silver it contains lumped together," he paused for dramatic effect, "Equals the price of a hearth and a meal at Ainethach's place. Is that reasonable?"
For a moment Ainethach forgot to breathe. Then he burst into laughter. "You're right! That is expensive! Bought!"
Omiq grinned. "Sold."
Kai
Another week had passed without incident. News spread fast in a town as small as Ivarstead, especially news of failure. Some villagers applauded Kai's effort, some sympathized with his failure and some others had warned him of his recklessness.
The amount of glares he received from the Ivarstead guards went up several notches. Kai couldn't blame them, really. They were helpless in the current situation. On top of that, his failure in ending the menace that was terrorizing their town didn't fly well with them either. In the end, they were just as frustrated as he was… probably more.
He had paid Ennis back. The news of a member of his herd being mauled by a cat didn't particularly bother him. If it did, he didn't let it show. However, he had taken that opportunity to lecture Kai about how the cat was impossible to kill and if he continued to pursue it, it would result in his untimely end.
Kai had dismissed it with a shrug. People always had something to say.
He had also sent a report to Falk in Solitude regarding his subsequent lack of progress. He hadn't received a reply and quite frankly he didn't expect one, either.
The Nord had regained most of his health during the previous week and had started his tracking efforts again. He had returned from such an outing and had just crossed the threshold of the Inn when he heard Wilhelm call out his name.
It was quite late, probably three hours after sunset. Curiously, he wondered what he was needed for.
"What?" Kai replied, startled.
"Courier." Wilhelm replied and pointed to a scrawny looking Imperial boy of about fifteen. The boy had curly brown hair and keen black eyes. Those eyes somehow reminded Kai of a skeever.
"Read it aloud," he told the boy and occupied a barstool. Kai was in no mood to read one of Falk's speeches about efficiency and responsibility.
Nodding, the boy unfolded the piece of parchment and read out its contents in a carefully emotionless voice.
"A resident of our village, Treva's Watch, has been taken by the man eater about an hour ago. Immediate assistance is requested. Please come as soon as you can."
A/N: Omiq's swords are based on the early rapier. It's more of a predecessor to the rapier, actually. I used the word rapier here because people can visualize what that is with much more ease and clarity as compared to 'Spada da lato' or 'Espada ropera' or what have you. You can always Google those two terms if you're curious.
