Hundreds of Miles from Azar...
The man from House Dres is covered in fine scale armor beneath lighter leather with a helm of steel in the shape of an Argonian's stripped skull atop his own head. House Dres ceased its trade in slaves hundreds of years ago. That doesn't mean the descendants of slavers don't love hanging rusting chains and disintegrating leather hides of the beast folk up on their walls to remember the glory days. Of all the five great houses, House Dres has fallen the farthest since its glory days. Slaves made picking the crops they primarily trade highly profitable. Now, hired workers cost them more and their attempts to diversify into other areas of business always end in failure as the other four houses put pressure on them.
House Dres has always known how to make money, but they've never learned how to not make enemies. Putting on a show of false confidence is important to all the houses after Morrowind after Red Mountain exploded. Even on the outskirts of Morrowind leading into Skyrim, we aren't spared from the occasional ash storm or poisonous rain. To rely on a plant that needs watering as often as saltrice is a risky game at most, but House Dres has always seemed to win that gamble. Hence, why even a servant of such low standing in the house can afford to wear such fine armor for nothing more than running a message and some gold.
The sum of five thousand gold is carried in a small chest the runner can struggle to carry on his own. His mule carried it and him easily enough, but the sight of him struggling up the walkway to our home with it was more than a little embarrassing for everyone involved. My youngest daughter, Lesspa, is kind enough to assist him once he's reached our doorstep. I can't say I blame her for waiting so long before helping him, though. Recent rains and melting snow from the distant mountains have flooded our nearby stream well over its normal banks to the point half our yard is completely flooded and the other half is a field of mud and shit. It's only our porch and home itself that remain untouched by the water. The poor runner is scrapping shit off his boots when I meet him in my solar.
The airy, open room is a delight in the summer and spring when the windows can be opened and the colors of nature can be observed with a nice vintage red in hand. In the winter and fall it's a chilly, dreary room robbed of all natural light that makes even the pelts and heads lining the wall seem saddened. A boiled, strong mead is the only remedy for such a room and, thankfully, I was pouring myself a cup when Ashni told me the stable boy had seen the rider coming. The Dunmer gurgles a deep word of thanks as he takes the mead and downs it in one swallow. Mead is still dripping from his tangled, messy beard as he speaks.
"I'm Vanik, Lord Dras' fourth son. I've come on behalf of my brother, Hel, to see his bride price arrive safely to his betrothed's father.". The short, stout chest is made of ashen wood a dingy color of grey, but the gold inside is shiny enough to make up for its container's lackluster appearance. I play my hand carefully as I examine the gold. Five thousand gold coins is nothing to House Dres, and sending his fourth son is both a way to threaten and judge me. Parading his son before me is an obvious threat directed at my eldest daughter. His second son is closer to his seat, but he's also a cripple.
Sending a healthy, hardy son to give me the bride price is a reminder his crippled son is the only offer he'll make. Likewise, his fourth son is no doubt going to be judging me and my family to make sure we're worthy of marrying into House Dres. The mud and water can't be helped, but I'm hoping our house not being underwater shows we're smart enough to build on the safest section of our property. Hopefully, the dowry is enough to win him over even with most of our property wet or muddy. The traditional dowry for marrying upwards so high is an acre of fertile land, ten horses, and a suit of armor for the husband to wear on the wedding day.
Considering the fact my soon to be son-in-law is unable to stand, I've forgone the traditional armor in favor of an armored breastplate with gauntlets, an extravagant full helm decorated with the symbols of House Dres, and leather studded greaves with matching leather boots. To make up for the lack of metal greaves and boots, I've added a fine oaken and metal shield along with the finest steel available on the market. To be safe, I've even thrown in a set of steel horse armor. The man might be crippled, but it's well known he likes to race in a chariot designed to hold him safely in place and high enough he can see over his horses' asses.
I'd have gone for a new chariot if I wasn't warned by my blacksmith the one Lord Dras' second son is using is the finest in all of Morrowind. Giving a lessor version of something he already has is like to offend him. The armor is brought in by servants Ashni promised me would come. Luckily, they come in just as I'm shutting the chest of gold. Vanik shows no sign during the presentation of armor, but once the servants have gone he nods in approval while running his hand along the armor's weak points.
"Hel will like this. He can't saddle a horse; though, his deceased wife oft claimed he had a secret stash of paintings commissioned of him wearing armor on horseback.".
"Speaking of horses, would you like to see the steeds I have ready for your return?". I mount Blackberry and give Vanik Sugarplum to ride to the stables. Fifteen horses are waiting at the stables for us. They're made up of eight destriers, four coursers, and three rounceys. The destriers are covered in heavy, thick steel armor unadorned with saddles, blankets, and bridles already strapped on. The coursers are given only leather armor with a bridle to make them versatile to both combat and speed. Finally, the three rounceys are equipped with only bridle to make them as swift as possible.
Vanik takes his sweet time inspecting the horses. All are male, but the rounceys and two of the coursers have been gelded to assure they don't grow any meatier and ruin their speed. The destriers are as big as they'll get, but most lords and knights find it pleasing to have their horses intact to appear manlier. I've always found intact horses harder to control; thankfully, I won't be dealing with them for much longer if Vanik likes what he sees. The man checks the destriers over carefully and does a brief inspection of the coursers while barely giving the rounceys a passing glance.
"These will do nicely. Most are unaltered and will give our mares at home some fine young foals once the winter has passed.". It takes Vanik a while to get all the horses lined up, tied securely together, and blindfolded. When he's done, I mount Blackberry and Vanik mounts the lead destrier who was saved from being blindfolded. Sugarplum is, thankfully, well trained enough she follows Blackberry without any hassle. The slow, large train of horses makes poor time as I take Vanik to the final gift I have to give his family in return for uniting our daughter and their son. The five acres of fertile, prime land has been seeded with corn, wheat, carrots, potatoes, and other crops meant to sustain my family.
The crops we need barely take up a hundred feet, so it'll be easy to harvest before House Dres comes for the land and even easier to replace on a patch of land on the other side of our property. It'll make getting the crops and transporting them back to the house a little more troublesome while exposing our underground crops to gophers, but a marriage is more important than comfort and excess food. Vanik dismounts and leaves me with his train of horses while he goes down to inspect the land and taste some of its bounties.
Most of the land is covered in a thin layer of ash and a little muddy from recent rains and flooding. However, the food is still good and the breakfast of fried and grilled potatoes Ashni gave me was wonderful tasting. It's getting late when Vanik returns with a half eaten potato in hand. It's only when he's mounted on his leading horse he finishes the vegetable. Silently, I begin guiding Blackberry and Sugarplum towards the border of my property. We've reached the rock piles signaling my land ends when Vanik is finally able to speak.
"I like this land. I like these horses.". A strong, sturdy hand clasps me on the shoulder.
"I like you. I'll go home and sing praises to father. Expect our family to arrive in a few days. I'm sure everyone will want to celebrate before the big wedding. Make sure your daughter is ready to wed as soon as she's returned from Skyrim. My brother's been chomping at the bit for the chance at marrying again. Poor man's been lonely since his wife died.". I take the opportunity to get to know a little more about my future son-in-law.
"If I might ask, why is m'lord lonely? I'm sure someone as high in power as him is never want for admirers.". A great, booming laugh sends Sugarplum to kicking at the ground. I let Vanik laugh to his heart's content and silently wait for him to calm down.
"Hel was crippled at birth. He's wanted for everything since the moment he came into this world. He likes reading and cooking and playing the harp. A woman might swoon over his playing, but they'd never trust a man who can't walk to defend them from raiders should the household guard fail to see them enter.". From my understanding, Hel wishes to live nearby as to not take my wife away from her family. Our own household guard has never failed me, so I have no worry that Hel will be what stands between my daughter and death. I tell Hel as much as he's pulling a wineskin from his hip.
"I hope you're right. Otherwise, all Hel could do was die along with his lady wife.". Another thunderous laugh is all Sugarplum can take. The mare flips her tail and turns around to trot back to the house. I let her go and take the wineskin from Vanik when offered. The ale he has is strong and thick enough to choke. I barely manage to get it down before it's already trying to come back up. I do my best to fight the drink back down as Vanik snatches the skin back. He's chugging the rest of his ale as I finally win the war against the ale in my gut. I can feel my face flushing beneath my pelt when the drink finally settles. Vanik returns the empty, shrunken skin back to his hip and clambers atop his destier.
"I'll see you at the wedding, Omar. Make sure your daughter's wearing white, or my old man might consider swapping Hel for our brother at the breast.". More thunderous laughter follows him as he speeds away, the train of horses behind him.