A/N: Yeah, so much for updating every week, right? Haha. I actually have the story nearly finished, I just forget to post new chapters. Reviews will undoubtedly remind me! ;)


Legerdemain

Chapter Seven |Alkahest

Quintus Navale saw very little of her after the incident in the storage room. The next morning she left with hardly an adequate goodbye. Just a nod and a short, 'I'm needed in the Rift,' then the front door shut and Quintus was wondrously alone. And yet…for some reason, it didn't feel as good as he thought it would.

It was fairly obvious that she was running away from him, unwilling or perhaps even uncaring to the fact that her kiss had altered him so much. A day ago, his mind would have been constantly whirring with exciting new alchemy experiments. But now all he could think about was her lips, the fire of them, the way they made his body melt and strengthen at the same time.

Quintus Navale had never known what love felt like. As a boy, his childhood love had been a simple Imperial girl, who would often accompany him on his explorations of the Imperial City where he had lived. His apprenticeship in Skyrim had spoiled all other possibilities for marriage and indeed he was no longer interested in those things anyway. His fascination was strictly focused on his alchemical research. He cared little for romance. This was all well and good, really, because he very much doubted that he would ever see the golden eyed Nord again, and he felt all the better for it. Or at least that's what he told himself.

It was late morning but Quintus decided to close the shop for a few hours and talk a walk to clear his head. He had been very busy during the past week filling orders. He had even gone so far as to deliver a few of them himself to several of the residents of Windhelm. If he really thought about it, he knew why he had made himself so busy. But the absence of his brash Nord companion had been steadfastly ignored as much as possible.

That day, Quintus had three deliveries to make. Normally he would hire a courier or pay off one of the children to make them for him, but his head had been spinning for days. He was getting closer to figuring out what to do with the cracked phial but it was costing him his sleep. That, and Nurelion didn't exactly make an easy patient. Though he knew he should be resting and catching up on the hours of it that he'd lost, Quintus preferred working himself to the bone. He wasn't sure when he had become so careless, if he was always like this or not.

"Quintus, it isn't often that we see you walking the streets of Windhelm!" Brunwulf Free-Winter said when he saw the alchemist walking through the market. The old Nord was a kind soul. As an Imperial living in a rather racist city, Quintus appreciated that there were some Nords who didn't harp on outsiders such as himself. Not that he considered himself an outsider. He had lived in Windhelm for years as a full-time resident.

Brunwulf patted him on the shoulder, his meaty hand nearly pounding the skinnier shopkeeper into the ground. "You're always cooped up in that shop of yours. It's good to see you getting some sun." The implication that Quintus needed some sun for his paler complexion was ignored. The Imperial knew that Brunwulf wasn't making fun of him, though he still didn't appreciate his words very much.

He laughed haltingly and nodded, "Yes, well, deliveries don't make themselves. I'm off to Helgird's with some embalming potions, then the Avenue to see someone named Brynwyn." The Avenue was the common term used by non-Nords to describe the oldest and most prestigious street in Windhelm. The Nords called it by its traditional name of Valunstrad, but as an Imperial Quintus preferred the slightly more pronounceable version. In any case, he sometimes sent deliveries to that part of the city, but never to this particular house. He hadn't even known that someone lived there until recently, though apparently it had been occupied by its new owner for several months.

Brunwulf's eyes were wide and rather impressed at Quintus's words. "You're going to see the Thane? I heard she possessed many skills, but I didn't know potion-making was one of them."

Quintus frowned in confusion and turned fully to Brunwulf, tilting his head curiously. "The Thane? There hasn't been a Thane in Windhelm since before I moved here. What on earth are you speaking of, Brunwulf?" But Quintus's words only earned him an incredulous chuckle and a shake of the head from Brunwulf, and a shocked gasp from none other than the town gossip, Viola Giordano, who must have overheard him.

She turned right around and immediately began to say, "Quintus Navale, you get yourself out of that shop and into real society. Always holed up with that awful man, doing Gods know what with your poisons and unnatural concoctions. I shouldn't be surprised that you don't know Windhelm has got her very own Thane. Complete with all the titles and property too, I might add. Verrry nice house, though there's talk of it being haunted."

The woman finally stopped to take a breath, and Quintus filled the silence with a spluttered, indignant, "Unnatural concoctions? Poisons?! Excuse me, but I don't think you're aware of the importance of my trade – " To say that he was angered by her words was an understatement: he was downright irate.

Why, back in the Imperial City no one would ever undermine him in such a way. The life of an alchemist was about dedication, to the nation and the people, and of course he was angry at the idle, naïve way she managed to insult him. He specifically remembered Viola coming to his ship on numerous occasions as well, though she seemed to have conveniently forgotten said purchases. Viola sniffed as if she didn't even notice his words or the affronted look on Quintus's face.

"Thane Brynwyn is an absolute boon to this city, and the rest of Skyrim too no doubt. She is Thane in six of the nine holds, you know, and counting. Of course this is all to be expected of the Dragonborn. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up as High Queen by the time this war is all over – "

Quintus's confusion only spiked at the mention of the Dragonborn. He frowned and haltingly said, "Dragonborn? Thane Brynwyn? Are you saying the Dragonborn lives in Windhelm? And I didn't know?" For a very brief moment, Quintus felt rather silly at this. Was his job so exciting that he missed out on such grandiose news? How could he not have heard of this?

Beside him, Brunwulf chuckled and Viola rolled her eyes. She chose not to respond to his words. Instead, she told him matter-of-factly, "Anyway, the Thane isn't in Windhelm right now. She left last week for some adventure. You'll be meeting with the Housecarl." She took one last, pointed look at him and resumed her walk as if the entire conversation hadn't even happened. Quintus gaped after her at the insult of it all.

Brunwulf laughed again as the old woman disappeared into the crowded streets. He patted Quintus's shoulder and said, "Don't worry, boy. That woman's a right piece of work. Not worth getting upset over the nonsense she spouts." And with that, the old war veteran chuckled once more and walked off before Quintus could mention how he wasn't a boy, he was very much a grown man and didn't appreciate the brash wording.

That was why he didn't much like warriors. They were always so honorably condescending, like they saw themselves as great heroes. Quintus had never gotten along with their type. His slim build and boyish stature was perfectly acceptable for a merchant to possess, but men like Brunwulf looked down on it because it wasn't 'manly' enough. He was so tired of being seen as a simple, clueless alchemist. And yet, he had molded himself that way. He didn't even know that the Dragonborn lived in the same city. He could have incidentally bumped into her without even knowing. He could have tended to her in his shop, sold her ingredients or potions without even realizing it. The thought baffled him.

"Quintus, you fool," he muttered, shaking his head at his own blindness. For someone who saw himself as somewhat of a genius, he certainly wasn't very street smart.

With a sigh of exasperation, the alchemist pulled his satchel higher up on his shoulder and stalked off toward the Gray Quarter to deal with several smaller deliveries. By the time he finished with them, it was noon and he had put off going to the Avenue for long enough. With wariness in his step, he trudged across the castle courtyard and ducked into the peaceful, quiet street where the rich and famous lived. The trim gardens on either side of the road greeted him joyfully and he idly began to sort each plant into its scientific category.

The practice had always been calming for him. It was a gentle reminder that there were familiar things around him. But that reminder fell away as he approached the last house on the left, the home of the new Thane of Eastmarch: Hjerim.

The mansion was huge. He had seen it plenty of times before on other walks or deliveries through the city, but for some reason its size struck him rather boldly that day. He paused on the steps, beneath the grand metalwork that dove above the entranceway, and spent some moments staring. His own little shop would have taken up hardly a quarter of the property. It felt oddly humbling.

When he finally forced himself to cross the distance to knock on the front door, he was met with a fierce looking man who must have been the Housecarl. For a moment, the red haired Nord, bedecked in all his armor as if it were a mere tunic, simply blinked at Quintus.

Quintus cleared his throat and opened his satchel, pulling out the carefully wrapped package of alchemy ingredients from within. Each ingredient was wrapped twice and it had taken him the better part of two hours to prepare the deliveries. It was a necessary precaution: Windhelm was cold but plants still tended to wilt rather quickly if not handled correctly. He handed the package to the towering man and said with surprising calmness, "I'm here to make a delivery. They're ingredients. Alchemy ingredients," he added when the man's eyebrows rose in confusion.

"Is that so? My Thane rarely tampers with the craft," he mused, tilting his head as he peeked inside the wrappings. Quintus bit his tongue to avoid blurting out the disadvantages of introducing ingredients to the cold air without first drying them. These were fresh, just arrived from the caravans, and very susceptible to the elements. Somehow he managed not to insult the warrior for the blunder, though Quintus was surprised how difficult it was for him to keep quiet. Perhaps he had learned more from his master than he'd thought.

"Do you need payment?" the Housecarl asked good naturally. Quintus cleared his throat and shook his head, "No, the payment was already sent to me a week ago." And it had been quite irregular, as well. The courier who had delivered the money seemed just as confused, considering that the Thane lived within the same city walls. Perhaps her role in the court was so taxing that she couldn't find the time to go herself. It seemed doubtful.

"Very well," the warrior nodded, and then abruptly said, "Thanks for the delivery." Then he went to close the door and Quintus turned back to the street with a sigh. He had a sick master to return to and much work to do besides. And, for that matter, a peculiar golden eyed Nord to forget about. Little did he know that this would turn out to be the complete opposite of what would actually happen.