Valdimar was waiting at the stables in Whiterun with Jughead, just as she'd asked. Her relief at seeing him was palpable, as this had most definitely been the most awkward trip with the twins that she could remember. She was rather amused (and somewhat wary) to see that the person he was flirting with was none other than her usual courier, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation as much as Valdimar.
"Ah, there she is!" Valdimar exclaimed, looking up with a wide smile on his face.
"Oh good. I've been looking for you," the courier started, halting when she held up a hand, fitting a smile on her face as best she could.
"I know, I know. You have something you're supposed to deliver to my hands only. Is that your business slogan?" she asked, aware of the twins hanging back. They were supposed to pick up Aela and Argis to go check on how the Brats of Whiterun were doing, but if Jarl Season was beginning, they may be doing it without her if the summons was urgent enough. Why couldn't her life have gone topside earlier in the summer? Still, it barely looked like autumn today—the sun was shining with a brightness more common to Cyrodiil than Skyrim, lacking its usual feeling of thinness. The air was redolent with freshly mown hay, and warm enough she hadn't needed either her cloak or her coat. Perhaps she was finally adjusting to living in the north.
The courier laughed. "It is, actually. Whole family uses it, since our grandfather's time. Now, I got this from a pretty Dark Elf in Winterhold. Said it's from someone called Augie."
Her lips parted slightly as her eyes widened, snatching the letter and quickly ripping it open as the courier frowned, probably wondering if he was bringing her bad news. "I have to go to Winterhold," she announced, scanning the contents quickly.
"Something about Darva?" Vil asked quietly, but she shook her head.
"I don't know. Augie hates putting what he sees on paper," she told them, rolling the missive up and shoving it into her knapsack.
The twins sighed in unison. "Go," Farkas said. "We'll take care of…what we were going to take care of."
She smiled gratefully at them both. "Thanks. I'll try to be back as soon as I can, and send word if I can't."
"More business!" the courier enthused.
Ysmir shook her head, amused, and turned to Valdimar. "I need you to go to Markarth. There's a house there called—"
"Vlindrel Hall," he interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I know all your houses, my Thane. We all do. You told us about them when you gave us all keys, just in case."
Ysmir blushed. "Right. Well, there's a crate in the entranceway filled with dragon bones. I need you to pull out as many as you can carry and sell them. Then I need you to go to Lakeview and begin repairs. You'll probably need to hire workers, so I'd prefer if you did so from Riverwood. I have an account there with the blacksmith and general store. You'll also need supplies for a couple of weeks, because game is pretty scarce there at the moment. Unless, of course, you really like fish."
Vald frowned, his grave, puzzled glance darting between her and the twins. "Should I ask what happened?"
"We don't know what happened," she replied. "Just that someone—probably several someones—robbed the place, destroyed most of the furniture, and drove off the wildlife."
He whistled through the gap in his teeth as the courier gasped out "Someone robbed the Dragonborn?" in as shocked a voice as she'd ever heard.
"Took most of your collectables, I take it," Valdimar stated, scratching Bandit's head as the dog leaned against his side, closing his eyes in bliss and completely at ease with the pair of werewolves not ten feet from him.
"I have ways of getting them back," she assured him. "Speaking of which…" turning to the courier, she handed him a coin purse and a few tightly sealed letters, "This needs to get to Brynjolf in Riften."
The courier's eyebrows shot up. "The Brynjolf?" Obviously, the courier knew that selling potions of dubious nature was not the Nord's primary means of employment. Ysmir, of course, had met him when searching for Esbern, and done a little take-and-plant mission for him right there in the marketplace. They'd met since, of course, but not that either would admit to others.
Ysmir shrugged. "The others need to go to anyone you or he can think of that might be interested in buying rare weapons or armor. I want them to know what potential merchandise coming through their door was stolen, and just who it belongs to." The list was topped with the Champion's Cudgel, the Bloodskal Blade, most of her jeweled dragon claws, and miscellaneous Daedric artifacts. The first two she had worked damned hard to get, she collected the claws, and she was quite frankly scared of what would happen if the Daedra discovered she had let their artifacts get away from her.
As for the Elder Scrolls, there were only so many places a person could off-load those, but she highly doubted they would go through all the trouble to find the things if all they wanted was to sell them. Priceless items had a habit of being essentially worthless unless you had the right buyer already in mind. Most likely they needed to use them, which argued for the Thalmor, but they would have waited for her to return home to ambush her, rather than just stealing her Talos Shrine along with most everything else. They would also have waited to publicly arrest her before stripping her home—if they even were able to get away with that, since nothing else there violated the White Gold Concordant and she had children to inherit it. No, the answer was in the missing Shrine.
"Vil," she turned to the twins and jerked her head a bit to the side. Frowning a little, he followed. "I need to hire a Companion."
His eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Well borrowing you and Farkas, even Aela, when I need help is one thing, but someone else?"
He sighed, pushing his dark hair out of his face. It needed cut again, but somehow she doubted she'd be the one to do it this time. "Who do you need and why?"
"I need someone not associated with me to go to Skyhaven Temple. Someone young—Ria perhaps. I need them to come from the direction of Solitude and claim to be looking for their friend Jori."
Vilkas sighed again, exasperated. "Ysmir, you know Companions don't like deception."
She rolled her eyes. "That's why Ria would be perfect; she loves a good game. Jori is my housecarl, Jordis. They're about the same age and could conceivably be friends."
"You think the Blades are the ones that broke into your house?" he asked incredulously.
"If they aren't, they will have seen who did," she pointed out inarguably.
"Fine. I'll ask her," he conceded. "As long as it's strictly information-gathering." He looked almost taken aback and as if he felt distinctly odd when she handed him the appropriate amount of gold.
"Now, it's time I go," she said, walking back over to the others and tying her packs onto Jughead's saddle while the warhorse tried to lip her hair affectionately. "Who knows what might have happened in the few days it took for this to get to me?"
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"You alright?" Farkas asked him after they watched Ysmir ride off.
"I'll be fine," he assured his twin, turning away. "Let's just get back to Jorrvaskr."
"Vald was pretty upset when I told him about the state of the house," Farkas changed the subject, sensitive to his twin's mood. Vil didn't warm up to people easily or quickly, and he was just as slow to heal from hurts. Farkas was pretty sure his brother would be all right, in time, but right now he was pretty raw. He didn't like seeing it. The sooner they could get back to work, the better.
"We all were," Vil countered. "We helped build that house. In that way, it belongs to us as much as it does to her."
"Vilkas! Farkas!"
The twins looked up as they rounded the wall to see Aela and Argis hurrying across the drawbridge, worried expressions on their faces. Farkas nearly groaned, and knew his brother was repressing the same urge. Vil just steeled himself and asked, "What's wrong now?"
"Sofie is missing," Argis answered for them both.
"What?" they chorused, aghast.
"For over two days," Aela put in, looking unhappy. "Apparently Kodlak had to make an emergency trip to Falkreath, and no one else thought to really look after her. Tilma thought she was with Danica over at the Temple, and Danica assumed she was staying in at Jorrvaskr. The last time anyone remembers seeing her was the day Kodlak left—three days ago—but no one knows for sure."
"Where were you two?" Vilkas asked, telling himself not to jump to conclusions even though he wanted to yell at someone. Regardless, he heard leather creaking as he subconsciously clenched his hands into fists. Aela's eyes flickered downward, but she didn't say anything.
"We were in the Reach," Argis informed him, eyes narrowing. "Kodlak sent us to retrieve a lost item that turned out to be a captive. We only just got back this afternoon."
"You joined?" Farkas asked, perking up considerably.
The housecarl shook his head. "Let's just say I'm considering it," he said, eyes shifting briefly to the woman beside him, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Sofie's trail is pretty cold, but I think I can track it," Aela told them, face grave. "The carriage driver said she asked to go to Eastmarch, so we were going to start heading in that direction. In the meantime, someone should probably go get the Brats. What with another child up and vanishing the entire town is in an uproar. Word is Balgruuf's been pacing the Great Porch like a caged bear."
"We'll resupply and head out tonight," Vilkas assured her. "There's still more than enough daylight to get some good distance in today."
"You could make better time," she grumbled. She still wasn't too thrilled with their decision to resist the Beast Blood. He hoped Argis took to it, because by their body language they had already made a pair of it. He wasn't quite sure he trusted Argis completely, yet, but he wished them well. At least, as much as he could at the moment. Something about seeing couples the last few days had made him want to break something.
"We'll get as far as we are able," he told her sternly, "Now go find our little girl." With that, he walked past them, heading into the city, thoughts reeling. It was too much, all at once. Ysmir, Darva, that bastard Miraak, and now Sofie was missing? Sweet, defenseless Sofie who hid behind him and held his hand when new people came around, who loved pretty things and forgot to remove all her pins when sewing? The thought of her all alone on the roads of Skyrim chilled his blood, and he nearly told Aela to switch, but the truth was that even without the Beast Blood she was a better tracker on her worst day than he was on his best.
They were still his children. It was his job to protect them. No matter where they came from or who their parents were, no matter what happened between him and Ysmir, they were his, and he was theirs.
Farkas caught up to him, grinning a bit. "Glad to know you settled that, at least," he said, and Vilkas knew instantly he wasn't talking about the conversation with Aela.
Vilkas shook his head. "On that, brother, there was never any doubt."
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Ysmir glanced backwards briefly, watching the twins head under the watchtower of the city. This hadn't been an easy week, that was for certain. She had hoped her life was past being this exciting, but apparently not. Biting her lip slightly, she worried about what Augie had seen as the farms flew past. Was it something to do with Darva? Alduin? Or had he seen what had happened to that wretch Siddgeir and wanted to speak to her about it?
Passing a cart sitting idle by the side of the road, Jughead reared with an unhappy neigh as something small and red darted out from under his hooves. Ysmir tightened her legs around the warhorse's barrel, easily keeping her seat after years riding horses in Skyrim's unpredictable landscape.
"Eee!" the red blur cried out piteously from behind the cart. "Do not trample poor Cicero!"
"Are you all right?" she asked worriedly, sliding down and rounding the cart, only to stop and stare in surprise. On the other side of the cart was a jester, such as she hadn't seen since her youthful forays in Cyrodiil, complete with hat, kohl eyeliner and bright red lips. And hair.
The funny man peeked out from behind his arms and squealed excitedly, hopping up and dancing around her, cooing. "Red hair! The pretty traveler has red hair just like Cicero's! Dark red and shiny! Bloody red hair!"
"Well, I guess you're all right, then," she said, bemused as she watched him skip about her. She'd always been told her red hair came from her Imperial ancestors, but until today she'd never met anyone else not a Dunmer with so dark a shade, humans leaning more toward oranges and auburns. Aedra, she hoped they weren't related, though given that one of her ancestors had supposedly become the Madgod...
The man stopped mid-skip, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. "Cicero is in no way all right!" he declared, stamping his foot. "Cicero is having a terrible day! He is stuck! Stuck, I tell you! With Mother, poor Mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!"
Ysmir glanced around, wondering where the merryman's mother might be, but he answered that question when he scampered over to the large crate in the wagon, stroking the wood softly. "There, there, Mother. We will get you home."
"She's…in the crate," Ysmir observed, frowning.
Cicero smiled at her charmingly. His features were rather striking and aristocratic—he'd probably have been considered handsome if he weren't quite plainly a vassal of Sheogorath's. Idly, she wondered if the Daedra had put him here for her to find. "Well, yes. She's a corpse. Quite dead, for a long time now. Cicero could hardly put her behind the reins!"
"I'm sorry," she offered sincerely, wondering if that was what had driven him into the Shivering Isles, but he laughed gaily.
"Sorry! Sorry, she says! Well, no matter. Cicero was taking her to her new home, yes, her new crypt, when wagon wheel!" All the mirth left his voice on the last few words, and he hopped up and down angrily as if stamping something into the dirt. "Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?" he gestured with both arms to the side of the cart away from the road, tapping his foot impatiently, and she winced. The wheel hadn't broken per se; it had come apart from the wagon. It was either staggering incompetence or someone hadn't wanted the jester to get very far.
"Well…" she glanced up the road. She really wasn't that far from Whiterun by horse, she could go back and fetch a wheelwright… "Is there some way I can help?"
Cicero's face went blank in astonishment for a moment before he squealed in glee, capering about, so light on his feet they made no noise against the cobbles…wait, was that a Muffle enchantment she saw glinting along the threads? She didn't have any more time to think on it as he grabbed her hands, spinning her around merrily. "Oh yes! The kindly stranger can certainly help!" He stopped, leaving her somewhat dizzy. "Go to the farm!" he said urgently. "The Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me!" He slumped a little as he added, "But he won't. He refuses." Straightening, he looked right at her, hope in his eyes and she felt her heart go out to him—not in the least because she had almost run him over. "Convince Loreius to fix my wheel. Do that, and Cicero shall reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!" he finished unnecessarily, but she smiled at his enthusiasm for money.
She glanced up the hill to the farm. "He refused to help you?" she queried, glancing back at him.
He nodded, hat flopping around but somehow staying on his head and was that another enchantment gleam? Shaking her head and deciding not to let it bother her, she marched up to where a man was hoeing a row of potato plants. Seeing her, he straightened warily, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Oh, for the love of Mara, what now?"
"The, um," how to describe Cicero? "The little man really needs your help. With his wagon?"
"That Cicero fella? Huh, tell me something I don't know," he replied scathingly. "Crazy fool has already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer."
Putting a hand on her hip, she replied, "Well, neither am I. I'm sure he offered to pay you. What's your problem?"
"Pay me?" he repeated incredulously, "You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head. A jester? In Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years."
Ysmir rolled her eyes. "There weren't dragons for thousands of years. I should think a jester showing up far more likely."
Loreius flushed angrily. "And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother. Mother my eye. He could have anything in there. War contraband, weapons, skooma. Ain't no way I'm getting involved in that."
Heaving a heavy sigh and giving Loreius a look that said he was being monumentally stupid, she stated, "Any idiot moving that kind of cargo does not travel by roads, and if they do they usually dress in something that won't draw attention. And they usually keep their crates of cargo small; easily hidden, easily moved, and easily portioned off. They don't put it all in one massive crate that will take a minimum of four men to move and risk having to leave the entire shipment behind if they're caught. It's just bad business practice."
"Er…" Loreius glanced her up and down, obviously wondering how she knew so much about it. She wasn't quite sure whether to find it irritating or refreshing that he didn't seem to know who she was.
Gracing him with the look she normally reserved for when one of her children had truly disappointed her, she added "He's a stranger who needs assistance. Please, do the right thing."
"What?" he asked, obviously taken aback. "And just who in Mara's name are you, anyway? Come here, telling me my business, and for what? To help a…a…a fool!"
Finding herself gritting her teeth, Ysmir put both hands on her hips. "The sooner you help him, the sooner he leaves."
Loreius paused, mouth open to frame his next argument, looking thoughtful. "I'll get my tools," he said, heading inside.
Not quite satisfied, Ysmir waited to walk down with him, making sure he kept his word. He was a silent, scornful presence while Cicero greeted Ysmir and him happily, but he did frown at the wheel, apparently realizing the same thing she had. He seemed a bit more sympathetic after that.
After doing a few cartwheels and squeezing her breathless, the jester hopped back, shaking her hand vigorously. "Oh, stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more, even more, my mother thanks you!"
"Er…" she glanced at the crate then smiled weakly. "You're both welcome."
"Here, here! For your troubles! Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for your kind deed. And thank you, thank you again!" he replied, momentarily reminding her (weirdly enough) of Aventus, who'd said the exact same words after she had returned to tell him Grelod was dead.
Smiling gently, she closed his hand around the coin purse. "No need, Cicero. I nearly ran you over, after all! I was so busy worrying I didn't even see you in the road. Consider this my apology, and I hope you don't have any more troubles on the way to lay your mother to rest."
The merryman wiped a tear from his eye, "Oh, pretty stranger is too kind! Cicero will remember this, yes he will."
"Have a good trip, Cicero," she said, patting him on the shoulder, "You and your mother. Thank you, Loreius," she added to the surprised farmer, smiling winsomely, "for coming down." He blushed and muttered something intelligible, busy setting the wheel back onto the cart. Cicero snickered, then insisted on helping her onto Jughead's back like a lady, cupping his hands to give her a leg up.
With a final laughing farewell she headed off, nodding to a guard as she passed who saluted her with a nod and a curt, "Dragonborn."
"Dragonborn?" Cicero echoed, frowning. Wasn't there a contract on the Dragonborn? He'd heard there had been attempts on her life by his fellow Children of Sithis. He giggled, "Oops. I hope not. Cicero is glad he will not be carrying out that contract, no. Not after she helped Mother." He turned to see Loreius staring at him as if he were crazy and smiled. For some odd reason, the farmer seemed terrified. "Kind Loreius is so nice to help Cicero and his poor dead mother," he declared, batting his eyelashes.
"Stranger in need, and all that," Loreius replied nervously, standing. "Wheel's back on. I'd stop over in Whiterun and have them go over it, though. Only so much I can do, after all. Wouldn't want you to have any more problems."
Cicero narrowed his eyes before bursting into laughter. "Of course! Of course! It will be another delay, though. Cicero is getting…tired of those. It's almost as if someone doesn't want Cicero to bring poor Mother home."
Loreius was very helpful after that point, even hitching up the horse for Cicero so that he could be on his way. Cicero decided that once he got Mother settled in, he would see about this contract on the Dragonborn. With any luck, there hadn't been a proper Sacrament, only whatever sacrilegious method Astrid had been using to find clients. It would be a shame if she had to die, after all. Mother liked her.
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Hello everybody! I hope you've been having a good week! I had to travel out of state for work again and caught something while I was at it, so I've been nauseous and achy, and somewhat more spacey than usual (Spaaaaacccceee!), but otherwise okay. Currently, I am making lasagna with my boyfriend (well, it's in the oven, so I'm doing this, but up until that we made it together), and I am very hungry and hope it gets out soon. I lost a pound this week, but I'll probably gain it right back tonight. :P
Welcome, new favorites and followers! And thank you everyone who read this far, and especially those of you who reviewed!
Sevvyn: Thanks! It's lovely to hear my story has some original ideas-sometimes it seems even if you've never heard of something, someone else has already thought of it! I'd love to say not to worry about Darva...but...eh, anyway it's so nice to be appreciated! (This site needs emotes, I swear.)
Vergil1989: Oooh! No one has ever called me an evil minx before! :D Sort of, indeed. Well, at least I made a concentrated effort not to leave you guys on a cliffhanger this time. That said, you are going to hate me later.
Wynni: Yup, Frothar is deep in first crush with our lovely Runa-who really would be completely oblivious if Aventus hadn't said anything. Wow, that's...violent. Viking Wynni, out to bloody eagle the Grand Mistress of the Blades! XD Darva already knows in theory that there are bad dragons, she just hasn't met them yet.
Nax: I'm right with you in the Miraak fanboat. Aaaall aboard! Delphine really doesn't intend her harm...she needs a Dragonborn, after all. Darva just needs some...reeducation, as far as Delphine's concerned. And she's more than willing to give it to her.
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Next Week: Sofie reaches Eldergleam Sanctuary.
