Sundas, 24th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Although Kjell knew there was no shortage of work to do if he was going to burgle Jorrvaskr, he couldn't help himself that first night in Whiterun. He had been in a cell in Helgen Keep for nigh on three weeks, then raided a massive burial site. Finally in a large enough city to keep a low profile, and with plenty of coin thanks to his delve into Bleak Falls Barrow, Kjell took a room at the Bannered Mare for the night. He was dearly in need of a proper bed, and slept for nearly twelve hours the first time he fell into it.
For the following several days Kjell kept as close an eye as he could on Jorrvaskr, without making it obvious that he was watching anyone or anything in particular. He took up residence in the Bannered Mare and kept to himself. It seemed to Kjell that the people of Whiterun were more open, more social, than those of Riften when it came to strangers. But, at least, they didn't question his uninformative answers about himself or his vague avoidances regarding his business in the city.
Curiously, over the course of his several days spent watching Jorrvaskr and the immediate area surrounding it, Kjell noticed that there was almost no foot traffic in or out of the hall. Surely, the famous Companions don't just spend all their time holed up in their drinking hall, moping, Kjell thought, as he looked back on the last few days. He concluded that there must be another entrance to the hall somewhere, but he couldn't quite work out where – at least, not from within Whiterun. Jorrvaskr appeared to butt up against the city walls themselves, so, Kjell reasoned, the Companions' secret entrance – if it did indeed exist – might lead out of the city entirely. Absently, he wondered if the Jarl was aware of the extra entry point, but quickly concluded that he didn't care.
As things currently stood, Kjell had reached a conclusion. With the strong suspicion of a secret entrance leaving him no real idea of who or how many were inside Jorrvaskr at any given time, he would have to get inside before he could come up with a proper plan. But, from what he had gathered about Jorrvaskr and the Companions from around the city, it wasn't as simple as just walking in and checking the place out. The Companions, as a rule, didn't simply admit visitors to their hall to just hang out there. So, getting in and being left to his own devices for any length of time would mean infiltrating – or attempting to, at least.
All these things Kjell pondered into late morning, taking time by the hearth in the Bannered Mare to mull it over. He was no fool – he knew he wasn't exactly built for the type of lifestyle the Companions prized, in fact he prided himself on that. He certainly lacked the raw, brute strength that they surely had – if legend and reputation were to be believed. Still, any way he looked at it, the answer was the same if he wanted to follow through with his plot to rob Jorrvaskr. And he certainly didn't want to go back to Riften empty-handed. No, he wanted to come back with something grand, even more so than the measly golden claw in the bottom of his knapsack. As far as Kjell was concerned, this was something he had to do. So, considering it decided, he rose from his seat and left the tavern, walking up toward Jorrvaskr. He would ask around, test the waters, see if he could work out what it would take to become a Companion.
It was perhaps an hour before midday when Kjell stood looking up at Jorrvaskr. It seemed more imposing up close than it had looked from a distance. All the way up the steps to the hall, Kjell thought of backing out, but his feet kept carrying him forward.
After a deep breath, Kjell pushed the heavy doors open and stepped into the hall, only to be immediately taken aback by a commotion. It seemed as though a brawl had broken out among the guild members. Some 'Companions'... Kjell thought, looking on. The fight – which Kjell determined to be more of a squabble, once his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the hall, died down fairly quickly, though, and a moment later a tall, muscular man – older, with one bad eye – approached Kjell.
"Haven't seen your face around here before," he commented.
Probably because I've never been here before, Kjell thought, sarcasm ringing through his head. The other man seemed to sense his attitude, even behind Kjell's steady, practiced expression.
"I've got my eye on you..." the man said warily. "What do you want?"
Now or never, Kjell thought, summoning all the daring he had in him. He glanced around the room. Any one of these people could snap him like a twig if they got their hands on him, and most seemed like they'd be eager to do so, given even the slightest justification.
"I want to join the Companions," Kjell said firmly.
"Hah!" the man barked, looking Kjell over. "So you think you have what it takes?"
Kjell looked up at him defiantly and with a straight face. He was determined not to give this line of discussion any reaction. A tense few seconds passed before the other man felt obligated to fill the silence.
"Well, lucky for you, I'm not the one who makes that decision. Talk to Kodlak," he said simply.
"Where would I find Kodlak?" Kjell asked.
"Njada!" the man called to a woman at a nearby table. "This man wants to meet with Kodlak. Why don't you show him where to look."
"What!?" the woman called Njada exclaimed in outrage. "You don't just waddle in here and get to speak to the boss. Who do you think you are?" she demanded.
"Never heard of you, either," Kjell muttered pointedly.
"Enough," the older man said firmly. "It's not for you or I to decide on any of that. Just do as you're told."
"Fine," Njada said, clearly irritated that the man hadn't taken her side. "If you want to embarrass yourself, I won't stop you."
With that, Njada turned on her heel and began walking. Kjell cast a glance back at the man, then turned and followed. They walked in silence down a flight of stairs and through a door, coming to a long basement hall.
"Kodlak will be all the way down at the end there," Njada said gruffly, pointing to the far end of the long hallway.
"Wait, do I just...?" Kjell started to ask, but when he turned back to face Njada, she had already disappeared.
Ugh, fine, Kjell thought, looking warily down the hall. The door at the very end was open, and he could see a man sitting inside the room, looking deeply enthralled in conversation. But this man looked too young to be the leader of the Companions. Kjell approached the doorway cautiously, overhearing the tail-end of their conversation.
"You have my brother and me," the young man – the one Kjell had seen from the hall – was saying. "But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily..."
Across the table from this man sat another, much older, with a full white beard. This one, Kjell supposed, must be Kodlak.
"Leave that to me," Kodlak said to the young man, ending what seemed to be a sensitive conversation before turning to Kjell.
"A stranger comes to our hall," Kodlak said simply. "What brings you here?"
"I want to join the Companions," Kjell said, playing up a confident tone.
"Do you now?" Kodlak asked. His skepticism in Kjell came out far less pronounced than had that of the two Kjell met upstairs. "Here, let me have a look at you."
Kodlak rose from his seat and beckoned Kjell all the way into the room. As Kjell approached, the young man stood as well. He looked considerably more discerning than Kodlak.
"Hm," Kodlak murmured. "Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit..."
"Master," the young man said incredulously. "You're not truly considering accepting him?"
"I am nobody's master, Vilkas," Kodlak addressed the young man in a familial, almost fatherly manner. "And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts," Kodlak added, nodding toward Kjell.
"Apologies," Vilkas conceded to Kodlak. "But still, perhaps this isn't the time. This outsider... who even are you?" he asked, turning to address Kjell.
"I'm called Kjell," came the answer, and he left it at that.
"I've never even heard of this person," Vilkas said, turning back to Kodlak. "And... well... look at him," he protested.
"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame," Kodlak replied sagely. "It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."
Kjell glared pointedly at Vilkas.
"And their arm," Vilkas added, returning Kjell's glare and watching to see if he would falter.
"Of course," Kodlak agreed. "How are you in battle, boy?"
"I can handle myself," Kjell scoffed, although truth be told, he had never experienced battle, or... anything resembling the type of fights these men were referring to.
"That may be so," Kodlak said with a nod. "Vilkas here will test your arm."
Kjell looked Vilkas up and down, swallowing nervously but trying to hide it. Vilkas wasn't as bulky as the man Kjell had seen upstairs in the hall. But he was still bigger than any man Kjell had ever bested in any honest fight. Divines, what am I getting myself into, Kjell's thoughts groaned at him.
"Vilkas, take him out to the yard and see what he can do," Kodlak instructed.
"Aye," Vilkas replied reluctantly, walking back toward the corridor. "Come on, then."
Kjell followed as Vilkas walked in silence. He was even worse than that Njada woman, Kjell thought. Every time Kjell started to match pace with him, Vilkas would speed up, as if he felt compelled to leave Kjell in the dust.
"What is your problem?" Kjell finally asked him sharply, as he nearly stumbled over three chairs and knocked a tankard off of a table chasing Vilkas through the main hall.
"Just don't like you," Vilkas answered, not breaking stride as he pushed open the heavy doors that led out to the training yard behind Jorrvaskr.
"Alright," Vilkas said a moment later when Kjell joined him outside. "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this."
Vilkas drew his sword and picked up a shield that was laid on a table, then walked out into the sun near a row of training dummies. Kjell tried not to act surprised, but he hadn't expected this to be an armed fight. He wasn't even properly outfitted with any of his best gear – he was still wearing furs that he had taken from a bandit outpost and carrying rudimentary daggers he had taken from Helgen Keep. How was he going to hold his own one-on-one against a Companion? His concern, apparently, made its way onto his face.
"Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form," Vilkas said, annoyed. "Don't worry, I can take it," he added, his tone challenging, as he raised the shield in his left hand.
Kjell smirked, understanding that he wasn't in any mortal danger in this test. Might as well give the man a show, then, he thought, readying up. He pulled one dagger and dropped into a ready stance. Vilkas scoffed, and readied to defend.
Kjell's first move was to dart forward and to his left, toward Vilkas's sword hand. This already caught Vilkas off guard, as Kjell had anticipated it would. Too cocky, Kjell thought. Never in a million years did you think I'd go for your sword hand. Kjell slammed the pommel of his dagger into Vilkas's sword hand, and landed it right on target – the sensitive spot between thumb and forefinger. The sudden blow to this pressure point was not only distractingly painful, but caused Vilkas to drop his sword.
Vilkas was stunned, still processing this unanticipated chain of events. Kjell took the opening to grab Vilkas's wrist and twist his sword arm behind his back, using his body weight to keep it there. Vilkas struggled, dropping his shield and trying to grab Kjell. But Kjell kept Vilkas's arm locked and kept himself out of reach.
"What are you doing?" Vilkas yelled angrily.
"Winning," Kjell answered coolly.
"Ugh, you're like some... annoying spider..." Vilkas grunted, struggling.
To put the match at last to an end, Kjell pressed his foot down against the back of Vilkas's knee, bringing him to a kneel. For good measure – mostly because of Vilkas's earlier sass – Kjell took him all the way down by pressing his right arm into his back, pushing him down until his face met the ground.
"Okay, okay," Vilkas said. "Fine. I yield."
"Great," Kjell smiled, releasing Vilkas and offering him a hand up. Vilkas didn't take it, standing on his own."
"Next time won't be so easy," Vilkas grumbled.
"No, I imagine it won't," Kjell replied. "You got cocky, and it cost you. You seem smart, though. You're probably learning from this experience as we speak."
"Hmph. You might just make it," Vilkas said reluctantly. "But for now, you're still a whelp to us. So... you do what we tell you!" Vilkas added quickly.
Kjell said nothing, savoring the scene. Vilkas was clearly flustered by Kjell's performance and the way that whole exercise had gone. He hated this and felt a need to assert his authority. It was delicious.
"Take my sword up to Eorlund to have it sharpened," Vilkas demanded, uncomfortable with Kjell's self-satisfied gaze. "And be careful. It's probably worth more than you are."
Kjell, still very pleased with himself, took the sword without a word. He briefly considered taking off with it, but held back. The Companions had much more of value than just one guy's sword. Kjell was here for the long con.