The old man let out another sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and said a defeated but firm, "Fine."

.

.

.

Ashe blinked, surprised that Mr. Kravos had actually agreed with her demands. "Oh... really? I mean, good! I deserve to know the truth!"

"That you do," her guardian nodded solemnly.

Then he gestured towards one of the plush armchairs in front of the massive stone hearth of the manor's main fireplace. Silently, Ashe padded over and hopped up onto it, folding her hands in her laps and waiting as Mr. Kravos went into the kitchen and returned with a dark green glass bottle. He uncorked it and Ashe was hit by the strong, painfully familiar stench of alcohol.

'Mr. Kravos isn't Papa,' she reminded herself as she fought the urge to squirm as a hundred terrible memories flashed through Ashe's mind. 'He is a grown man. Of course, he has a bit of booze every now and then but you've never even seen him drunk. There is no reason to believe he'll hurt you after he drinks a little.'

She forced herself to remain as still as possible as Mr. Kravos took a long drink from the bottle, sat down, rubbed his face, and took a deep breath as he began his story.

"Alright," he sighed, "this is going to be a long, confusing story and much of it will seem unbelievable. You will be confused, and you will have questions but I merely plead that you wait until I am finished before asking. After that... well, I'll do my best to answer any questions you have."

Forcing down her own confusion, curiosity, and excitement, Ashe nodded while digging her fingernails into the arms of the chair and rocking back and forth ever so slightly.

Mr. Kravos took another swallow of his drink and started. "The story of how I came to be in this land is a complicated one but most of what I have told about my past is truthful, if not the complete truth. I was born in Wayrest, a city in the country of High Rock, to a baker and a soldier. I grew up helping my mother, Belladiana, in the bakery, helping her run the shop and learning to make all manner of delightful things from her. My father, Mercard, used to read me The Lost Lady's Love whenever I was sick or felt sad and died when I was fourteen. That was all true."

"You must understand, Ashe, my childhood was completely normal," Mr. Kravos said earnestly, with a vigorous nod of his head. "It was normal and generally uneventful, aside from the occasional important political figure accompanying my father home for supper. Even when Pa was murdered... well, it was sad but, as I say, he had the ear of several important people and, in High Rock, that isn't exactly unusual. I had no reason to believe that my life... that I would be anything special."

The old man breathed a hard, shaky breath and his voice nearly broke, ""When Ma... when Ma died, I felt lost; I didn't know what to do with my life. For a while, I tried to keep the bakery going in her memory but it never felt right, nothing I ever baked tasted right, so I passed ownership of the business off my aunt, uncle, and cousins. My uncle, Cedlius, suggested that I join the military; honestly, I just think that he wanted to get me out of the way so that there'd be less of a question about their ownership of the bakery. Ma never did get along well with that side of the family.

But I could have done it, joined the military I mean. I would have done well in it; Pa had put me through martial training when I was younger and I had excelled at it, even if -at the time- it wasn't anything I was particularly interested in. I was of age, seventeen, so I could have easily joined the local chapter of the military and spent the next few years rising through the ranks and creating a reputation for myself. After some time, I could have found myself a proper wife, probably the daughter or younger sister of a superior officer, and started a family. It wouldn't have been hard; I would have been a good catch, after all, my family name was respected in the area and I had inherited a decent amount of money from my deceased parents. I could have had a nice, normal life.

But I didn't do that.

I didn't want anything to do with the military; I didn't want anything to do with High Rock in general. Don't get me wrong, it is a beautiful land and wonderful country in many ways, but things like my father being assassinated for the people he knew and the political opinions he had are not uncommon. I didn't want that to be my future.

So I left.

For the next two years, I just wandered about the different countries of Tamriel. When I needed money or became ill or just got tired of being on the road I would stop in different places, sometimes in towns or cities but sometimes just in little farming settlements or fishing villages. I'd stay for a while -days, weeks, or even months- and do whatever work was available to make some money. I learned many skills and made a lot of interesting friends during this time. It was a decent way to live, lonely at times but far from unpleasant.

Then, when I was nineteen, I tried to cross the board into the country of Skyrim. You have to understand, I had been avoiding it during my travels because there had been a great deal of civil unrest due to religious differences between the Nords -that is the people of Skyrim- and the Empire, the greater governing body of Tamriel. A civil war was brewing; the people and families were torn apart by the growing conflict. The only reason I decided to risk crossing the border was that an old family friend was nearby the bordering crossing.

It went badly.

There was a skirmish between the rebel soldiers and those loyal to the Empire. Even though I had nothing to do with the conflict but caught up in it anyway and, in the end, was knocked out and captured."

With that, Mr. Kravos parted a section of his hairs and bent over to show off a white, long-healed scar. "Needless to say, that wasn't a fun day. Even less so when I woke up in a cart surrounded by several other prisoners.

We were to be executed.

The soldiers took us to a town called Helgen and one-by-one, they began beheading us. They were ready to kill me too, despite the fact that my name was not one the list of scheduled executions; one of the soldiers, Hadvar, tried to protest but was overruled. He was a good man, Hadvar, and one of my closest friends for years until he died about a decade ago; he even named one of his sons after me, the old sap."

Mr. Kravos' voice was wistful and his smile was sad as he recounted his old friend. It was at that moment that Ashe came to the realization that her guardian had not only outlived his parents -which, in and of itself wasn't too unusual- but had undoubtedly outlived many friends and lovers.

'That has to weigh on you,' Ashe thought mournfully.

Obviously, she knew that her guardian was an old man, one of the oldest she'd ever seen, but Ashe had never really considered what that meant. How many funerals had Mr. Kravos attended? How many bedsides had he stood vigil by as someone he loved slipped into the afterlife? How many graves had he put flowers on? How many loved ones had he said goodbye to?

Ashe doubted the man would ever truly say, ever truly share his grief, and anything she'd ever learn would have to come from the odd anecdote or story someone else would let out.

'If I ever do get to meet the other people in his life,' she added mentally. 'There is no telling he'll actually want to keep me after the fit I just threw.'

"So there I was, with my head on the chopping block and staring up at the sky for what I honestly believed would be the last time ever, and then... chaos. Fire, death, destruction... it was everywhere. The screaming, the shouting... it was so damn loud! But I managed to escape in all of the confusion, with Hadvar, actually, and made our way to a nearby village.

The story after that is very, very long... far too long for me to tell you all of it in only one day and, please excuse me for saying so, much of it is much to mature for you to hear. But, eventually, I ended up in the closest city and warned the local ruler, a very important man, of an incoming threat. The man, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, was thankful and asked me to complete another pressing task for him. I did so -quite impressively, I might add- and Balgruuf was even more grateful. My shoulder was injured though, quite badly, and even with the... medics available in Whiterun, it would take a while for me to recover; that meant I couldn't leave the country as I originally intended. Feeling bad about the injury and as thanks for my assistance, Balgruuf invited me to stay in his palace with his family until I recovered, which wound up taking a while. During that time, Balgruuf decided to take me under his wing. In so many ways, he is responsible for shaping me into the man I am today, even more so than my own father.

While recovering, I took to spending my time just wandering the city and meeting its people. The Nords of Skyrim are stern, taciturn, and gruff -they are rarely welcoming to outsiders, even those who are a personal guest of their Jarl- but, after a few... let's call them minor favors, they started warming up to me and I to them. Pretty soon I found myself growing fond of Skyrim, despite the dreary weather and the often tasteless food, and, after about half-a-year, I realized that I didn't want to leave.

So I decided to buy a house in the city; by that time, I had saved up enough payment from the different tasks, favors, and odd jobs I had done that I could afford to buy a small home. The house, Breezehome, was a bit of a fixer-upper, the outer-walls were thin and full of cracks that needed to be patched up and re-enforced, but I didn't mind the project. So Lydia... the bodyguard Balgruuf hired to protect me, and I got to work fixing the place up by cleaning out the cobwebs, putting up shelves, decorating, scrubbing the floors, adding a new fireplace, fixing the walls, bringing in new furniture, and the like. Pretty soon I was like a brand new building.

It was a good thing we worked so quickly too because it seems that almost as soon as the new layer of paint on the walls had dried, I ended up adopting my first child -Lucia."

Mr. Kravos said the name with a reverent kind of warmth, like those five letters were the most valuable thing in the world to him. Ashe couldn't remember anyone, aside from maybe Mama, had ever talked about her like that.

"She was a little Imperial girl -only nine years old at the time- that I met while she was begging in the park. I gave her a coin and asked her why she was begging, only for her to run away. It took a while, a good amount of money, to earn her trust but, eventually, Lucia told me how her father was a Legion soldier who'd had a brief relationship with her mother whilst stationed in Skyrim; she'd never met him and only knew his name.

So Lucia was raised by a single mother who'd recently died, and that her aunt and uncle kicked her out when they took over her mother's farm. At only eight years, Lucia hitched a ride with a traveling salesman into Whiterun, thinking that, because it was a walled city, she'd be safer there. But she still had no money, so a local drunk, Brenuin, helped her and taught Lucia how to beg. She lived on the streets for a year before she became my daughter."

Mr. Kravos trailed off, his eyes distant. The man looked lost in his memories; it was the same look Papa always had whenever the baby he and Mama had and then lost before Ashe was ever born came up in conversation with neighbors. The only difference was after Papa finished being sad, he drank and then got mean. Mr. Kravos was never mean; he was stern sometimes, sure, but never mean.

"I developed a life in Skyrim, one bigger and grander than I ever imagined, as the years passed. I met friends and lovers; I made enemies and allies. Some friends turned to enemies and some enemies turned to allies. I joined various factions and worked my way up the ranks, coming to lead many of them. I did many favors for many important people, earning money and a sizable reputation for myself. A civil war did eventually break out and I helped fight against the rebels. We -the Legion, I mean... though I was a part of it, a high ranking officer by the end of it- squashed the rebellion and I killed the leader, Ulfric Stormcloak. I took no pleasure in doing so; while I disagreed with him on many things but I also admired how fiercely Ulfric was willing to fight for what he believed was best for his people.

Before I knew it, I was an important man as well. With that status came even more money as well as property and political perks. Using those assets, I tried to help as many people as possible; I had come to love Skyrim and its people so deeply, I wanted to do whatever I could to protect them. As it turns out, part of this was taking in more children. There were so many orphans in Skyrim... I couldn't adopt all of them, of course, so many ended up at an orphanage that I provided for. But there was a handful that I just couldn't bring myself to turn over, so I ended up raising them myself. By this point, I'm sure you've heard enough about them to drive you mad."

Ashe let out a soft huff of dry laughter at that. I was a true enough statement, Ashe did get tired of hearing the stories of his kids and grandkids. But, honestly, some of that was just due to her own jealousy.

"Time dragged on and the land turned peaceful. My children grew, they became adults and eventually started their own lives; some got married, had kids of their own, some started their own businesses, and some decided to travel just as I had done. Friends, allies, comrades, and lovers aged around me... some died, some just moved away but my life still changed. It grew stale and I became bored. I took up many challenges and hobbies in an attempt to re-energize my life but they never satisfied me for long.

Recently, I grew desperate and decided to try something... extreme, something that was only ever rumored to be possible. That something brought me here."

He went quiet then, the conversation carrying off into the air and dissipating like the mist of morning dew evaporating under the hot sun. Rather than continuing on with his story again, Mr. Kravos just stared at her, his brow drawn tight and pensive with his hands threaded together and pressed to his mouth. It took Ashe far too long to realize that he was waiting for her to speak, that he wanted Ashe to say or ask something.

Still, it took Ashe far too long to find her words. But, eventually, she managed to stutter a few out.

"I... I've never heard of most of these places," she started. "Are they very far away?"

Mr. Kravos snorted, "Yes, that is one way of putting it. But I know that isn't what you really want to ask. You can speak freely now, Ashe. Ask whatever you need."

Ashe swallowed hard, her heart nearly thudding out of her little chest. "H-how did you get here?"

The man frowned, suddenly seeming older and more tired than he ever had before. But then he opened his mouth and tore everything Ashe knew apart in one word.

"Magic."

.

.

.

"You're lying."

Mr. Kravos' looked startled, "What?"

Ashe felt tears start to form as her throat swelled and grew hot, "You're lying! You promised me that you'd tell the truth but you are still lying to me!"

"No, Ashe, I swear that I'm being honest. I know it is hard to believe but everything I said is true!" the old man stood up and went to hug her but Ashe lept up from her chair and bolted toward the front door.

"Ashe, don't leave!"

Despite the genuine pleading in Mr. Kravos' voice, the little girl threw the door open and, through her tears, shrieked, "I HATE YOU!"

Then she ran.

Ashe ran faster than she ever had before, darting through the trees. She stumbled one, falling to her hands and knees in the mud, before forcing herself up as continuing in her flight. But, seeing as the island wasn't particularly large, it wasn't long before Ashe found herself collapsing on the thin, rocky shoreline.

She wept openly; heavy, fat tears rolled down her face as her choked sobs echoed across the inlet. Ashe had never cried more in her life, not even when Mama died or Papa hit her for the first time or when she was thrown out of the house. Which was weird, because, logically, those things should be far worse than a couple of little white lies told by a kind man who'd gone above and beyond taking care of Ashe.

Still, she just felt so betrayed!

'I trusted him!' Ashe screamed into her mind.

As the tears continued to flow, the sun inched its way across the sky until it was late afternoon. Finally, the sobs turned to sniffles as it seemed that Ashe had cried out all of the water in her body. Every part of her body ached and she was thirsty but still refused to go back to the house. She was still angry.

"I'll sleep outside if I have too," Ashe grumbled defiantly to herself, huddling in on herself to fight back the nighttime chill that was already setting in. "It is not like I haven't done it before."

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

The sounds of footsteps on rocky sand caused Ashe to freeze... then the anger returned.

"I'm not talking to you!" Ashe snapped, definitely glaring towards the water and refusing to look behind her.

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

The steps got closer.

"I said that I'm not- errmmmphf!"

A massive hand covered Ashe's mouth as a hairy arm wrapped around her waist, lifting the girl up into the air as she kicked out desperately.

Hot, smelly breath blew over Ashe's face as a male voice rasped out, "You look worth a pretty penny."