Chapter 21

The building, which had a rather worn-down sign that read, "The Bee and Barb". The mud-stained doors opened with a creek, and the heat that blasted out of the building was quite alluring. Okan walked in and mostly smelled mead and the normal odor a building full of men would give on a hot day. As he closed the door behind him, Okan was greeted by a green Argonian with a yellowish neck.

"Greetings, and welcome to the Bee and Barb." The Argonian called from behind him.

Okan turned to look as he saw the smiling Argonian, who had been in the process of carrying a platter full of dirty plates and cups to a side room where Okan could only assume was a basement. Okan smiled back and looked around the bar.

"Okan, hey! Over here!" A gruff voice yelled out.

His eyes were drawn to the waving arm, which was attached to the blacksmith, Balimund. Okan smiled as he walked over to the bar, ducking over a punch meant for another patron, which had been thrown by a rather tipsy looking Redguard. The barstool groaned under his weight as he sat down and scooted towards the bar. Balimund motioned towards yet another Argonian, and she nodded. They were brought two cups and two orange bottles that read, "Black-Briar Mead".

"Thank you, Keerava." Balimund said, smiling warmly.

"Anything for you, Bal." She said, winking. Okan noticed out of the corner of his eye a rather expensive looking ring on her finger.

"Bal?" Okan said with a smirk and a raised eyeridge.

"Eh, I give them a discount when they bring their knives for sharpening." Balimund said as he pulled the cork out of his bottle. "In return, our families have grown quite close."

"Guess so." Okan said with a laugh. A small amount of the mead was poured into his cup, and it tasted quite good.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, where did you get such armor, and such a magnificent sword?" Balimund asked after a deep draft of his mead.

"I don't know the name of the ruins, but it was around the… ah… that huge mountain. Don't know that name either." He shrugged. "Anyways, I was climbing it and found this small door carved into the mountain. To this day, I still don't know how I found it, but when I opened it, the gear was in a rather nice-looking chest."

"I am sure you mean the Snow-Tower. It overshadows us often."

"Indeed. I also… I found these."

Okan pulled out the blueprint he had in a small bag that he had on his leg. The bar was wiped of potential filth, and Okan unrolled the parchment. Balimund looked over, frowning curiously. The plans were looked over by both Okan and the smith, with Okan not really understanding how to read them.

"These are amazing…" Balimund said, tracing the lines of the throwing knives with his finger. "Old… Dwemer…"

The man was practically drooling over the plans. He kept muttering to himself and tracing the lines with his finger.

"It's not every day you see one of these…" Balimund said, looking up. "The last time I saw a plan like this was when… ah… I think her name was Sorine, or something, and they weren't in as good of condition as these were. There are well…"

Balimund looked back down and shook his head in disbelief.

"Good?" Okan offered.

"Ha! To say the least!"

"Can you make them?"

"Okan, if you let me keep these plans, not only will I make them for you, I'll give you as many as you ever need."

"Seriously? Balimund, I don't know what to say…" Okan said, a wide smile stretching from what seemed like ear to ear. "Yes. Hell, make as many as you want!"

"Ha!" Balimund roared, smacking Okan on the shoulder. "A true friend!"

Okan laughed away the pain from having an extremely built blacksmith smack you on the shoulder and sighed with content. The cup of mead was drained, and Okan filled it with what was left from the small bottle.

"As for the price…?" Okan asked, looking over at Balimund, who was still pouring over the plans with is what only could be described as a child-like glee.

"Eh? Oh, just pay for the oil and consider us even." Balimund said, looking up. "Honestly, it was… refreshing to work on something that wasn't iron or steel."

"Balimund, honestly?"

"Bah! Wipe that look off your face. For me, blacksmithing isn't a job, it's a hobby. And when someone like you comes along, it's always a treat." He said, grinning.

"Well, then, how much do I owe you?" Okan asked, his coin purse in his hands.

"Let's say… eh… Fifty-eight?" Balimund said, looking down at the plan again.

Okan rounded up to sixty as an extra thank you to Balimund, and sighed, leaning on the bar and taking one last look at the plans that he had brought.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know of anyone who knows how to get to Black Marsh, eh Balimund?"

"Nope. Sorry, Okan, but the furthest I've ever been away from home is to Whiterun." Balimund said. He then looked up in confusion and shook his head. "Ah, sorry though, that wasn't what you had asked. I would go to Mistveil Keep and ask for Wylandria, the Court Wizard."

"You have my thanks, Balimund." Okan said, tapping the table. "I should…ah… get going. Long road ahead of me, I guess."

"Alright then," Balimund rolled the scroll up and got up, swiping the septims off the table, leaving ten for the mead. "I got the mead, let's go and get your gear."

Okan thanked him again, and the two walked out of the door and into the market place. He shot Madesi a smile, which was returned as they walked towards the smithy. Balimund got a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door with a loud clink. The door opened loudly and was thanked by a curse from Balimund. It was oddly cool inside the house, and it smelled of wood shavings, metal, and other odd smells. Okan could see his armor on the table, and went over to it. It was as wonderfully refurbished as the sword was, and Okan could tell that a lot of work had gone into repairing it.

"You have my thanks, Balimund." Okan said, smiling as he put the leather on.

"Uh huh…" Balimund said half-heartedly.

Okan looked over and saw him pouring over the drawings again, this time with planks of wood cut to certain lengths and a few shiny golden-bronze ingots were beside him. He smirked to himself as the man was working, and picked the longsword up off of the table. The amazement he felt when he picked the sword up never left him. When held a certain way and at a certain light, the gleam of the blade and the colors of the two enchantments he had on the blade, it gave of a shine like no other he had ever seen before. He twirled it around and slid it into the scabbard on his back. Before he left, he thanked Balimund one more time. The smith didn't even respond this time, just nodded and waved him away, as if he was a bothersome fly.

Okan giggled quietly as he opened the door. He thought of going to see the Wylandria, the Court Wizard, but… nah. She was probably too busy, and he would be able to find his own way, anyhow. The guard at the front of the gate had told him how to get to the boarder of Skyrim anyway, back when he had first entered Riften. That felt like ages ago.

As he walked across a bridge towards the gate, he heard a loud crashing noise, and turned quickly to see Balimund rushing towards the forge, the scroll clenched gently in his mouth. His apron was untied and flopping in the wind as he manically began to work on the throwing knives.

Okan pondered if he should stay behind and watch him finish, but shook his head. Surly it would take more time than he wanted to stay for. He turned and left the gates, and laughed internally at the gaping eyes of the guards that were standing at the open gate. They were impressed by his gear, and he could tell. There was a small child by his horse, and seemed to be feeding him something. Okan got closer, and, when the child looked up, he smiled.

"What're you feeding him?" Okan asked as he walked up to the horse.

"A-an apple." The child said. He was a Dunmer, a Dark Elf.

"Really?"

"…Okay, a few apples."

Okan laughed and thanked the kid before he untied the horse from the post and tugged on its reins. The horse was more obedient than Okan expected it to be, and was easily able to get it to turn and leave the stable. He waved goodbye to the child, who smiled widely as they waved their hand.

There was a lot of time to think as he made his way to the boarder of Skyrim. About his brother. His family. The Vorgols. The last conversation he and Azureous had.

It wasn't a pleasant one, for sure.

Okan rubbed his shoulder where a heavy model of a Dwemer Sphere had been thrown at him as the argument flashed in his mind.

"Guess I need to come up with a name for you, eh horse?" He said, stroking the hair on the beasts' long neck.

The horse didn't acknowledge him, and he felt like a bit of a fool for thinking it would. After a moment of thought and a sigh, Okan shrugged and gently kicked the horse to urge it to go faster.

The trip to the boarder was quite scenic and beautiful. He often would look over at the Lake Honrich before he turned left to go to Cyrodiil. There was a few wolves along the way that met their demise from a few well-shot arrows, and even a bear that Okan had to gallop away from.

Okan was somewhat familiar with the area, since he had been in Skyrim for only a few years, and thusly knew the way back to his village in Black Marsh. The trail that led into Riften broke off after a few miles, so Okan had to set his sights on a town called Cheydinhal, which had grown a lot since the Oblivion Crisis. He had to make his way across fields and hills, and even around a small lake with a few fishermen in it. By the time he arrived at the gates of Cheydinhal, it was almost dark, and Okan was completely exhausted. He had been riding, for the most part, for an entire twenty-four hours. There were two guards standing at the gate with impressive looking armor and spears. He obeyed the command to halt, and dismounted his horse.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?" The guard on the right barked.

"My name is Okan, and I am just here for some rest." Okan said, smiling wearily. "I'll be gone first thing tomorrow morning."

"Very well. The stable is to the right, and the inn is a few buildings over." The guard on the left explained, pointing to the buildings. "Don't cause any trouble, got it?"

Okan nodded, smiled, and led his horse through the gates and into the town. There was a young Dunmer boy brushing a large brown horse's mane as Okan pulled his own horse towards him. At the sight of him, the boy smiled and stopped brushing.

"That's a fine horse you have there." The boy said in a thick accent.

"Thank you," Okan said, handing the reins to the boy. "How much will it be to look after him for a night?"

"Ahm…" The boy exclaimed as he tied the horses lead. "You'll have to talk to my father about that. His name's Nomodhi, but a lot of people call him Nomo. He's inside."

Okan nodded a thanks and looked around for the entrance to the house connected to the stable. He found a door and it was unlocked, so gaining entry wasn't a problem. Inside there was a rather portly, well dressed Imperial trying to bargain a carriage ride for his daughters' wedding. He wasn't bartering successfully.

"I don't know how to explain this to you any better than I already have!" A tall, yet thin Dunmer almost screamed behind the counter. "I am booked until next week! I have no horses to loan out!"

"Fie!" The large man yelled. "I'll see you in chains by the end of the day!"

"Ha!" The elf screamed. "Get out of my shop, you… Rabble-rouse!"

"Why…" The man shone a hue of red that was previously never seen before by Okan as he stormed past him. The door slammed shut, and a loud, tired sigh came from the elf.

"Can I help you?" The elf said. "If you're here for a horse, well…"

He pointed towards the door. Okan chuckled to himself as he walked closer to the counter.

"No, I was actually wondering if I would be able to keep my horse here for tonight." Okan explained as he drummed quietly on the counter.

"Ah!" The elf's eyes lit up. "That, I can do! One night will be a hundred septims!"

Okan nodded as he pulled his coin purse out from his bag, and counted out a hundred of the small round coins. He handed them to the man, who smiled as he gave him a small stone that was painted red.

"This here is a little token that you have to bring back to get your horse. Can't just have people claiming that they own all my horses." The elf chuckled. "Anyway, my name's Nomodhi, but feel free to call me Nomo."

"Okan."

And with a shake of their hands, Okan was off to the inn for a long night's sleep. He walked down to the building where the guard said the inn was, and looked at a sign that read "The Cheydinhal Bridge Inn," and he went in. Inside the building was warm and smelled pleasant, and it reminded Okan of a warm drink on a hot day. He approached the counter and was greeted by a Dunmer that looked rather tired. After buying a room for the night, Okan walked up the stairs the man behind the counter pointed him to, and into a rather spacious room. There was a nice-looking bed, far bigger than what he needed; a desk, and a couple of dressers. He shut and locked the doors and blew all but one of the candles lighting the room out. Before he collapsed, Okan removed his armor and clothing and hid it under the bed. His dreams were dark and blank.

. . .

A sharp rapping on the door was what awoke him. Okan stretched and yawned before getting up. The floor was cold and unpleasant to his feet, and just before he went to put his shoes on, the rapping came again.

"One minute." Okan half said, half yelled.

He could hear grumbling outside his door as he got dressed, and it didn't sound very happy. After the last buckle was strapped, and the last lace was tied, Okan trudged towards the door. Upon unlocking it, he was greeted with the rather unkempt face of the Dunmer bartender that rented him the room.

"Ah, you're already dressed. Good." He said, crossing his arms and looking at Okan as if he was a pile of trash. Okan was surprised that the sarcasm that was dripping from his tone couldn't be collected and made into a treat. "Get out."

Okan said nothing, just frowned and gathered what remained of his armor. The Dunmer was watching him the whole time, and, as Okan passed him, he coughed. Okan smirked before holding the key out to him. As the Dunmer went to take it, Okan let it fall out of his hand and onto the floor. He could hear the elf cursing as he descended the staircase, which brought him great pleasure. The inn was almost deserted, save an elf or two having a meal together.

The beauty was what struck him first when he left the inn. There was a long, stone paved street that he was on. There were mostly Dunmer walking around the various stalls, but he could see patrols of two or three guards weaving inside and out of the commotion. There were houses and shops that were so crammed together that it felt almost suffocating to see them. Carts were being pulled by mules, which cut through the crowd like it was nothing, and people hurried to get out of their way, least they be run down. As he looked down the street, he saw a large chapel, which was by far one of the most impressive buildings he had ever seen in his life. He shook off his wanderlust and looked over at the stable. There seemed to be a commotion, not like the market. Okan ran over to see what was going on.

It was Nomo, and he looked absolutely furious. He was making gestures with his hands and shouting at the top of his lungs at a duo of guards in front of him, one writing things down on a piece of paper, the other trying to calm the elf down. By the time Okan got over there, things had seemed to settle down.

"I'll tell you what, Nomo, I'll take this to the Guard Superior, and he'll settle this out." The guard that wasn't scrawling on a piece of paper said. "You'll get your horses back."

"The… The Guard Superior?" Nomo stammered, a look of incredulity on his face. "You… absolute worthless idiot! The Guard Superior is in the pocket of the Magistrate!"

The unbridled animosity that lined Nomo's yells were so apparent that another couple of guards had to rush over. They tried to calm Nomo down as best they could, but they had apparently set him off bad. It took threats of imprisonment to calm him down, but even then, his voice was so venomous that the guards all took a few steps back.

"Get out of my sight." Nomo said, pointing at them, "Now!"

The guards turned and walked away, rather swiftly, down the street. Okan wanted to leave Cheydinhal but he also wanted to keep his head, so he kept his distance for a bit. Nomo walked around the stable for a bit, muttering to himself and shaking his head. A bucket was kicked into the stable with a grunt, and Okan heard a crash, and a long string of Dunmer curses. He watched as Nomo clenched his fists before taking a deep breath. Then, another. And another.

Finally, Nomo opened his eyes and shook his shoulders. After cracking his neck, he turned and looked at Okan, and beckoned him over. He smiled as best he could as Okan walked over.

"So… ah… I truly am sorry you had to see that… Okan, was it?"

"Yeah. What was that all about anyway?"

"The… the bastard Magistrate stole my horses. Well," He chuckled, "more like, had others steal the horses, the fat prick."

"All… of them?" Okan said, wincing.

"Sorry Okan. I would give you a horse but…"

Nomo motioned towards the stable with an exasperated flick of his wrist.

"What about the… High Guard, something like that?"

"The Guard Superior? Ha!" Nomo said, laughing. "You do remember me just flipping out there, do 'ya?"

"I…"

"The Guard Superior is as corrupt as they come. He's supposed to be the black to the Magistrates white, but as it is, it's just white. No black. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think so. So, what can I do? I assume the Magistrate stole my horse as well, and I needed to be riding it towards Black Marsh around thirty minutes ago."

"Hmm…" Nomo rubbed his chin. "Come inside. You look capable enough."

Okan followed Nomo into his office space, and then behind the counter and into a room with a desk, couch, and various other pieces of furniture, all of which looked expensive and hard to find. Nomo motioned towards the couch. Okan took his sword and bow off of his back and laid them besides him before he sat down on it. Nomo handed him a steaming cup of…

"What is this?" Okan asked after he took a sip. It was sweet, and had a strong minty taste.

"Tea. Never had it before?" Nomo asked, smirking as he sat across from Okan.

"No, never." Okan said before taking another sip. "It's good."

"Indeed." Nomo said, marveling at him. "You've never had tea before? Figures, you being an Argonian and all."

"Eh? What's that supposed to mean?" Okan said, narrowing his eyes.

"I simply mean that the swamps of Black Marsh are far too damp to dry leaves in. I meant no offense from it, Okan." Nomo said, starting to stammer.

"Ha!" Okan said, smiling. "None taken. You're true in saying that. Up until the Imperials invaded, from what I heard, the most tasteful drink we had was crushed up berries in water."

Nomo smiled and shrugged before clearing his throat.

"So, you said the Magistrate stole all of the horses?" Okan said, draining the cup.

"Well, I have my suspicions. Whomever did it did so silently, and very stealthily." Nomo said, offering more tea. Okan declined. "They're missing, but I know the Magistrate has them."

"The Magistrate was the one you were arguing with yesterday, correct?"

"Indeed. Fat bastard wanted the horses for his whore daughter's wedding. I told him that all of my horses were already… Well, you were there for that argument."

"Indeed. But… tell me, why would he steal your horses? Surely not just for the wedding?"

"Well… If I am to be honest…"

"What?" Okan said skeptically. "Would someone else have stolen them?"

"Okan, my horses, no, my steeds, were the best in all of Cyrodiil."

"Oh?"

"Truly. In fact, just one could sell for around fifty-thousand septims."

"So, it is entirely possible that a band of horse thieves stole them? After all, you do live close to the gate."

"But the guards?"

"Could have been paid off."

"Huh…"

Nomo got up and looked out a window. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the guards by the gate. They weren't the same two that were there on the night shift last night, but who knows if they were on this conspiracy. He looked back at Okan, who smiled.

"How many did you have?"

"Ten. Plus, yours. So, eleven."

"That's oh… about five-hundred thousand septims. Not including my horse, Nomo, they easily could have paid off the guards, especially if the guards didn't know how much they were worth."

"Well… Are you up for some work, Okan? I know you had to leave for Black Marsh, but if we found the horses, you'd be well paid." Nomo said, crossing his arms.

"Eh… Sure. What other choice do I have?"

'Plus, I'm running low on septims as is.'

"Any idea as to where to start?" Okan asked, suddenly longing to be with Kent and Azureous. They wouldn't have dealt with this man as Okan has done so far.

"I would say the bastard Magistrate, but… Your theory of horse thieves holds some water, so…" Nomo began to brush his goatee with his thumb. After a minute or so of thinking, he shrugged. Then, "I'll tell you what, I'll find out as much information as I can about them, but right now, you should go to the Cheydinhal Castle stable and ask the boy there if he has seen anything. You'll give him this, before you ask though.

The coin purse that was slipped into Okan's hands was hefty. He nodded and slipped it into one of his pockets, and turned to leave. Before he left, he looked back at Nomo. He was pacing his office, deep into thought, no doubt forming some sort of plan. After taking a long swig of an unmarked green bottle, Nomo glanced up at Okan.

"Anything else you need?"

"Huh?" Okan stammered. "N-no."

He turned on his heel and left the stable. Outside was just as, if not busier than it was before he went into the stable. The sun overhead, and Okan felt as if he hadn't eaten in ages. Luckily, he could smell food coming from vendors. Fresh meat and vegetables, a stark contrast to the produce of Skyrim. There was one vendor who had an assortment of cooked, albeit lukewarm, slabs of meat in between two pieces of bread. Okan bought two of them and brought them to a small patch of grass that overlooked a running river. There was a bridge that led to a large, beautiful cathedral. As he ate in silence, he observed the Dunmer activities that went on in the city. They seemed to be preparing for some holiday, although he wasn't sure what it was. The meal could have been better, but it filled him up, and that was all that he required out of the meal. He made his way to a duo of guards that were talking to a Dunmer child. They were scolding him about running through crowds. The boy ran off before Okan arrived, and he could hear the guards sigh as they turned towards him.

"Hello?" Okan said, grabbing their attention.

"Hello, citizen. What do you need?" The one on the left asked with a soft smile.

"Just directions to Cheydinhal Castle."

. . .