Liam left Bravil much healthier and a whole lot wiser thanks to Kud-ei's cure and good instruction. He also had little if any respect for the Bravil guard so when he stepped out of the town's heavy gate and found an Imperial guard's mount standing unattended he didn't think twice about swinging into the saddle and, with his pack tied in such a way as to cover the Emperor's insignia stamped into the saddle leather, he made for his little cabin on the Imperial City waterfront. He had to admit that travelling by horse was a whole lot nicer than hoofing it the whole long distance on his own two feet, especially when he still felt tired after having been so ill. Even still, Liam was relieved when the waterfront came into view. Riding up to the Wawnet Inn, he had a good look around for unwanted eyes before sliding from the saddle and abandoning the tall bay horse where someone would find it and take care of it. He trudged along the water's edge in order to avoid the busy docks and just as he was making his way between the last hovel on the beach and his own, he was stopped by a woman he had seen several times but had never spoken too; partly because her face seemed to have been permanently pinched into a sour, unwelcoming expression.
"Take this," she said mysteriously, "it's from a friend." Then she turned and hurried away without another word.
Liam was almost about to toss the letter, he couldn't imagine that old prune sharing any friends with him, but at that moment an Imperial soldier came bustling from the dock into the waterfront area looking like he had a purpose.
"No, they couldn't have," whispered Liam to himself, instantly wondering if someone had seen that he had ridden up on an Imperial horse. He took the last few steps to his door, slid the key into the latch and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. Silently he stood, waiting for the knock he hoped would not come and without thinking opened the note in his hands. What was this? Something about meeting in the garden of Dereloth at midnight; intriguing to be sure, but since he expected to be asleep at midnight, whoever this "friend" was, was going to have a long wait.
Suddenly there was a commotion outside. Liam tossed the note absentmindedly onto the old wooden table along with his small money pouch and cracked the door. Several more guards had arrived and they were going door to door. There was also a man with a leather money bag and a ledger. One woman burst into tears.
"What am I supposed to feed my family with?" she wailed. "Please, please, what good will those few coins do the Imperial Palace?" she cried and grabbed hold of the tax man's arm. The heavy hand of a soldier collided with the woman's cheek, knocking her to the ground. The crowd began to press in but before things could get out of hand, the soldier drew his sword and while he let the woman's husband approach to help her away he stood threatening everyone else. Liam closed the door silently and locked it. No one on the waterfront had ever been taxed before. It was his understanding that there had been an agreement before the Emperor's death that the waterfront would never be taxed because the only people who lived in the hovels down there were those who had no money to go anywhere else. By whose orders, he wondered, were they suddenly taking what little these people had and leaving them with nothing to buy bread?
He was tired; tired and angry but more so tired. Pulling off the clothes Kud-ei had found for him he crawled into bed. Even with the sound of the guards and the grumbling outside he found it easy to sleep. Then came the knocking; jerked awake he lay silently waiting for them to leave. Other than a very few people and that pinched faced woman who seemed to have been waiting for him, no one knew he was home and since he had been gone for days… With a crash the door burst open and two armed soldiers followed by the tax collector came storming in.
"You owe taxes!" said the short balding Imperial in a high pitched voice. Liam couldn't help but think how the man, from his bald head and up turned nose to his squealing voice, reminded him of a young hog. Liam started to get up but the pig man had found his money pouch on the table and motioned to the guards who held swords outstretched toward the Nord. "Don't bother yourself," the human swine said greedily, "I'll just count it out for you."
"So when did the Imperial Palace sanction taxing the waterfront," growled Liam.
"That's not your concern," the pig man squeaked.
"If I'm being forced to pay taxes, it is my concern," Liam snarled. One of the guards eyed him threateningly. Liam glared back defiantly, he would hold his place but not his tongue.
"The uneducated filth living in this dung heap could never begin to understand the workings of Cyrodiil," the pig said, "and if you continue to harass me with questions I'll tax you for them too; with that he pulled another coin from the bag before throwing it back on the table without drawing the cord so that coins spilled out all over and were sent rolling onto the floor.
Liam lurched forward but the tip of a sword pressing into his neck halted his progress. The swine smiled as he left, followed by his Imperial watch dogs. Liam got up to count what was left of his coins and inspect the damage they had done to his door.
Now Liam was angry and it took a lot to make the big Nord angry. The door frame had been made from heavy timbers that had withstood the blow that broke the door itself which would now need replacing if it was to do any good. As tired as he was, there was no way he was going to go to sleep in the waterfront without a door that bolted; it was a well-known fact there were thieves about.
Pulling his pants and sandals back on, Liam made his way over to the docks where dozens of old shipping crates stood waiting to be reloaded or burned depending on who they belonged to. Liam looked them over and found an extra-large crate made of very hard wood that would make a fine door, but it was still filled with vegetables and fruit.
"Who might I talk to about this shipping box?" he asked a deck hand as he walked by, but the man just shrugged so Liam asked someone else who also didn't know. For the third time he posed the question to a dock worker and finally he got an answer in the form of a gesture toward a nearby door. The sign swinging in the wind above it read "Imperial Trading Company" and Liam pushed the door open and entered.
"Who would I talk to about getting one of those crates out front?" he asked the Imperial behind the desk.
"That would be me," answered the man without looking up.
"What if the crate was still full of produce, how long would I have to wait for it to be emptied?"
The man sighed as though he couldn't be bothered with such questions and continued to scribble notations in his ledger as he said, "All the food will be hauled to the barracks this evening, then the crates will be hauled out onto the beach and burned."
"So if I moved the produce into another empty crate, could I have one of the larger ones?"
"No, you cannot have it!" snarled the Imperial as he slammed his quill down on the desk and turned to look at Liam for the first time. "If you want the crate it will cost you four golden septims."
"Four septims!" Liam said in disbelief, "But you said you were only going to burn them!"
"Those crates cost money," the man sneered. "If the Imperial Palace chooses to burn its money that's their decision; however, they certainly aren't going to give it away."
Liam shook his head at the idiocy of it all and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. So the Imperial Palace had money to burn and was still collecting taxes from those who couldn't afford it. He turned and stormed back down to the waterfront. "Perhaps we can make paying those taxes worthwhile," he grumbled.
Barely half an hour had passed after his conversation with the man in the Imperial Trading Company and Liam arrived back on the dock with three other men, one of which was the husband of the woman who had been struck in the face and all had the appearance of dock workers. It was getting near closing time and the docks were fairly empty as the men set to work. Liam carried a set of tongs, one end of which was fastened with a long thin rope. With a quick glance around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he shoved the tongs solidly through the door where it would brace on the frame making it impossible for anyone inside the building to get out. Two of the men began moving and stacking crates until the window of the trading company was fully covered without a hope of anyone being able to see out. The four men then picked up the long crate that Liam had inquired about and carried it, fruit, vegetables, and all, back toward the waterfront. All the while they carried the crate Liam let the rope attached to the tongs lead out until just when they were about to turn out of sight, he gave it a sharp jerk and the tongs pulled free without any more noise than might ordinarily be heard on the docks.
The four men hurried the crate into one of the hovels where they emptied it of food. The husband of the woman attacked by the guard pulled out a box of tools and he and Liam set to work building the new door while the other two began making deliveries of the fresh produce to all the families on the waterfront. Everyone ate very well that evening and the grateful woman, whose face was badly swollen and bruised, served Liam a very hearty helping. It was getting dark by the time the door was hung and close to midnight when Liam finally attached the lock and stepped into the cabin he called home. A chill was in the air and since there was leftover wood that needed to be disposed of, Liam threw several ends into the stone fireplace and tossed a fireball at it causing it to burst into flame. A scrap of parchment on the table caught his attention in the dancing light of the fire; he picked it up.
"Oh yes," he said out loud, "my 'friend' wanted a meeting. Well I guess I was wrong, I am still up at midnight." He looked the note over and considered it would be wisest to toss the parchment into the flames and forget about it. What kind of people meet at midnight in an abandoned garden anyway. Even still, curiosity was eating at him so, strapping on a dagger just in case things got ugly, the big man made his way back out into the night.