4e 198, 3rd of Sun's Dawn - Middas

"And then, just when the damn Spider was about to chew Frognir's head off..."

The birds were still chirping when I left the Inn with the Reach Guardsman, waving goodbye to Eydis, Skuli and Leontius with as much cheer as I could muster - which admittedly wasn't a lot. Though I'd spent a while in their company, I could hardly claim we'd gotten close or anything like that; their good nature had served me well, but that was that.

The guardsman had long since repositioned his helmet where it belonged, but it didn't strike me as menacing anymore. Though still unnerving, my familiarity with the object from my previous experience in the land of Skyrim, virtual though it may have been, served me well in demoralizing it a bit. I'd "killed" guards before, after all; nothing to be scared of.

His name was Eidar Deadbane - apparently he'd gotten his moniker after saving a few guards from a Necromancer they'd stumbled across in one of their patrols. 'Took the bastard's head off with a swing of my sword', claimed Eidar, proudly patting said blade's scabbard a few times. He seemed happy to regale me with his tales, so I let him do so freely; asking for him to elaborate to keep up the illusion that I was interested in his tales.

Or, well, so it began, but it turned out that Eidar was a surprisingly good storyteller. It was fun to hear of his 'heroic' deeds and even more so to hear of his honesty. For example, the way he'd described his desperate escape from a rogue Centurion on the ruins under the city was absolutely hilarious. My enthusiasm, I realized, didn't much help me in convincing people I was not, in fact, a child - but at this point that served me well enough.

We'd been walking for around four hours already - he said we'd be there by the end of the day if we didn't stop for anything other than eating, and I was inclined to believe him. Meanwhile, I listened to the man's tale with some interest, eyes darting across the trees around us frantically, searching for hints of danger. My iron dagger had been strapped to my waist thanks to Eydis' handy skills and a few leather straps, and the leather bag containing the clothes I'd arrived in was tightly held to my back.

It was somewhat surreal to be enveloped by so much nature, honestly, especially because the Reach had quite the unique atmosphere. Surrounded by mountains and cliffs by what felt like all sides, the forests and vegetation of the area was almost broken; a few patches here, some there. Moreover, the area was foggier than I expected; Eidar assured me it was normal, but it didn't really feel normal. I could deal with it, however.

"Still there, boy?"

The Guard's remark broke me off my internal monologue, and I turned my eyes to him with a sheepish smile and nodded.

"Mhm. Sorry, I, uh, let my mind wander. You were talking about the Frostbite Spider, right?"

He shrugged at that, dismissive of my apologies; It appeared he wasn't offended by my drifting attention from his tales, thankfully enough. Last thing I needed was to offend a Nord's honor.

"That's alright, boy. I remember when I was a lad your age; the first time I was out without my parents scared me half to death. Just keep an eye open and that knife by your side and you'll be fine."

I nodded in response. That was… remarkably nice of him to say, and clearly an attempt to calm my nerves. I had been under the assumption that everyone at Markarth was a corrupt maniac, but it seems I had been mistaken. Eidar was clearly at least a nice person, lest he'd killed me off already.

"Yeah", I muttered. "It's… kinda intense. At least I'm not alone, though."

"Aye. If any bandit comes along, they'll be talking to the Gods before they know it."

Well, I supposed that made sense. A Guard's training would, logically, be better than a bandit's', and if half of Eidar's tales were true, he'd already seen his fair share of trouble. I nodded once again.

Though… bandits were hardly the only thing I was worried about. Nay, though bad, there was at least a chance the bandits would just leave me be if I gave them all of my stuff. A Forsworn, on the other hand, I didn't know, but my instincts - worthless though they may be - told me 'no', and lacking actual evidence to prove the opposite, I was included to believe them.

"Are bandits a common problem around here?"

An obvious attempt at information gathering, if I do say so myself, but he probably wouldn't look too deeply into it; and even if he did, the way I'd presented myself so far would most likely exonerate me from suspicion.

"Nay. They're usually scared off by the... local populace."

The last part was spoken in a somewhat hushed tone after a few moments of thought given to it. I feigned ignorance, raising an eyebrow and tilting my head slightly to the side;

"You mean, like, the animals? Wolves and all that?"

Eidar stopped walking after a while, turning to look at me. I couldn't see his eyes, but there was a certain urgency to him that scared me a little, and I was half inclined to try and attack him before he could do the same.

He didn't, however - he merely crouched to stare me at eye-level.

"They aren't wolves, but animals is a good word to describe the Forsworn, boy. Have you ever heard of them?"

Oh, boy.

I shook my head 'no' immediately, somewhat intimidated, and that seemed enough to make Eidar go on.

"They're Bretons, used to dwell in Markarth before some things happened. Now they're a tribe, barely better than beasts with their wicked Daedra gods. And let me tell you, they won't spare you a thought; if you cross them, they'll kill you and not quickly. So if you see a Breton wearing armor made from animal pelts… start running and don't look back. Alright?"

I swallowed dryly, eyes widened at the tone behind his words. There was a desperation to them, somewhat akin to what I expected to hear from someone with PTSD; above that, however, there was fear. Both for me, for him an in general.

"Ah… A-Alright. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good", he commented, inhaling deeply. "That's good.".

We resumed our journey in silence after that, and I found myself deep in thought - though more alert than I'd been.

Whatever Eidar had experienced with the Forsworn was bad - bad enough to traumatize the man deeply, at least. But if he'd been struck by such a thing so deeply, why not request to be moved back within the city walls to patrol the (relatively) safer area that was Markarth proper? Why expose himself to the same men and women he feared?

I mean, I didn't blame him. If I ever came across a Briarheart, I'd probably scream a little. But the men and women of Skyrim were of much different constitutions than I was, mentally speaking. I suppose I can credit such a difference to desensitization. But even that had failed to protect this man from the cruelty of the world he was surrounded by.

Regardless of such meaningless facts, we had a journey to travel. The roads were mostly clear, with only a wolf or two skulking about, but even those we managed to avoid - clearly, Eidar had some experience traversing the wilds. I kept to myself for the most part, of course, doing my best to follow his footsteps as diligently as I could. Though normally I would have been lost in my thoughts, I was a tad on edge by then and thus didn't get to ponder upon anything without being scared by the shadow of a tree or something.

The air around me smelled distinctly natural, but in a way I was unfamiliar with. It was a pleasant sensation, and I briefly wondered what it was like for those living in the times before the industrialization of most of the world to see nature being pushed back little by little. Unpleasant, most likely.

I'd say it was about 15h when Eidar finally decided to stop for "lunch" and warned me of such. We'd just stumbled upon a less dense part of the woods, with enough cover but also enough space to sit and eat for a while. Our meal was nothing but some bread and water he'd gotten from the Inn, but I admit to finding it absolutely delicious.

In my panic, I'd forgotten that, well, eating was something I had to do. Yay for difficulty/realism mods, I suppose… but, in my half-starved and subsiding off of my panic state, I'd forgotten to pay it any mind.

Also, it was well-baked, which came to me as a surprise. I think I expected everything made before gas ovens and all to taste like gravel and dirt - but these people had taste buds too. And it had clearly been made with some care, and certainly with experience, which in turn made for a pleasant, if a bit dry, experience.

We hadn't the time to linger, however, and that was made clear by his haste to leave again once he made sure I was in the proper state to journey. I could tell it frustrated him a little, this incompetence of mine, but Eidar was careful not to make his dissatisfaction too clear, and for that I was grateful in a stranger, bitter way.

I kept to his shadow, of course, and made an effort to match his pace.

I was absolutely exhausted by the time he finally turned and announced we were close. It was already dark, though not as dark as it could be, and had Eidar not prepared a torch beforehand and lit it with some stones we would seldom have any sight at all. Or warmth.

The roads were, in fact, better-looking, as if they'd received more care than the rest of the pathways we'd explored. Seeing them paved in stone bricks as opposed to just dirt and sand was a welcome sign of civilization, and more walls could already be made out by attentive eyes. Much to my chagrin, Eidar seemed to not be any worse for wear, as if walking for what basically amounted to an entire day wasn't anything unusual. Hell, it might not have been; He was a guard, after all.

My paranoia rose with the moon, and by the time stars could be made out in the gray expanse of the sky above our heads, my palms were white with the force I clutched to my dagger with. There was a nip in the cold air, a bitter touch to the cold that came with the smell of greenery and mud, and I'd have been tempted to put on my old jacket if it wasn't still moist from the previous day's rain. I weathered through it instead, unwilling to appear too weak in front of my new companion; going by the amused look in his eyes when I tried not to shiver, I failed.

Finally, I made them out - the gates of Markarth, tall and absolutely breath-taking. The stone from which it had been built was far from plain, carrying details cut into the stone itself with precision I hadn't expected. Symbols and generic shapes marked it's length, and illuminated by the warm lanterns on each side of the bronze city gates, they all felt positively striking.

I took a second to take it all in. It still felt positively unreal, a far cry from anything else I had ever seen in my life; The architecture, of course, but the atmosphere most of all. It was also considerably - and I do mean considerably - larger than I expected from my playthrough of Skyrim. It felt like a real city, somewhere one could live in for all of their lives without feeling particularly smothered. Once again, the difference in scale was one that surprised me — though perhaps that is to be expected.

"Quite the impressive sight, isn't she?" The Nord with whom I traveled asked me, chuckling as I nodded wordlessly, letting my eyes wander freely. It didn't seem to bother him in the slightest; with a nudge to my shoulder, Eidar reminded me to keep moving, but otherwise seemed content to let me marvel. "Most say it was built by the Dwarves. I'm not sure I believe them; The Dwarven ruins under the city are real enough, but I've always been of a mind that the city itself was just made to look like them. Not that it matters; Markarth looks mighty fine either way."

"Mhm," I hummed, trembling a little."I've never seen anything like it. Been to some of the ruins back in Cyrodiil, but only to sightsee from afar, and those were Ayleid. This is.. something else. Wow."

Again, Eidar chuckled at my fascination. "Alyeid, huh? Heard about those. Nasty elves, but their ruins are supposed to be quite something. And dangerous, too."

Ah, yeah. That's right. People don't normally sightsee things like that in Tamriel; Ruins are active dangers to be braved, not archeological wonders for the interested to go see. I had responded with the first backstory detail I could think of to explain my interest and further comparisons, but I suppose I failed to take everything into account.

"Mm." I hummed. "Father had something of a hobby. Hired some goons to brave the area near it and the first few rooms then took us there. Didn't dare to go too deep, though." I paused, thinking of how to make it sound a little better. Finally, I settled; "One day, I wanna be strong enough to go back and figure out what's at the bottom."

As he continued to lead me into the city, and the gates were crossed in swift steps, I marveled at the dark market area while absorbed by the thoughts in my head.

At the moment, I was (understandably) treating the world as a theoretical enemy in a stealth mission. That couldn't really hold, not if I was going to live here. But if that's the case, I was going to need to do better. And to do that's I needed to get my shit together, to put it bluntly.

— I needed a story. A life before this life, and preferably one that wouldn't take too much effort to hold together. The more it could be likened to my own life back home, the better, because this was a ruse I would be holding for a long, long time. It couldn't sound too suspicious, either, though I wasn't exactly planning on a Chosen One backstory or anything like that.

Second, I needed a way to stay alive indefinitely. Which meant ways to acquire enough Gold to eat, sleep, drink and live somewhere. A day at the Inn should, if in-game prices were converted into real world prices one-to-one, cost me 10 Gold, which meant that the 30 I would get from my little task would give me three days to figure my shit out.Unfortunately, I wasn't sure if those 10 Gold included food costs or not, so that was a blank spot I'd have to figure out if I was going to last.

Third, I needed a way to survive, which wasn't the same as staying alive. In this, I am referring to the idea of "being able to face conflict and come out alive", since "come out on top" is most likely beyond my reach for the immediate future. Unfortunately, power in Skyrim was much like money in my world in that the only reliable way to acquire more of it was by having it in the first place. Housecarls and Mercenaries were beyond my reach, I would not know the slightest thing about a sword and I didn't know any spells to defend myself with, so the college wouldn't take me if I got on my knees while naked and started begging.

Lastly, I needed a way to write things down. Because my memory had always been good, because this is something I may be able to receive assistance from Him later, and because I would soon need it. Diaries, records of my existence, theories I remembered from my world, all of it.

As the Muppets would so eloquently have put it, one of these things is not like the others..

With that thought in mind, I headed for the General Store, with Eidar promising to stay by my side until I had collected my reward and found the Inn.

Well —

The inn ended up being a nifty little place called Silver-Blood Inn, which worked well enough to remind me of the city of Markarth's inner workings. There were two main plotting factors within the settlement, the Forsworn and the Silver-Bloods, both of which acted through second and third parties more often than not. Ironically enough, the Jarl himself came second in relevance, and then I was forced to consider the Thalmor I knew were present within.

All in all — an unfortunate situation. But I suppose it merits to be careful not to let my experiences as The Protagonist fuck my perception all that much. People lived in Markarth with a relative lack of concern for such things, and as one more face in a crowd, I suppose I should as well.

On the good side, Silver-Blood Inn was just as astounding to look at for my concrete jungle eyes as the rest of Markarth had been. It was a spacious, luxurious place with plenty of tables and stools around the large counter in the middle, but the main attraction was the structure itself — Dwarven, as was most of the city, carved in intricate patterns from stone, marble and whatever metal the Dwemer liked to use.

I had walked inside with the intent to talk with the innkeepers immediately, but quickly became enamoured with the structure and forgot to do so — which attracted me some odd looks. I didn't care much, honestly, because the chance to see it up close and with the decent-ish lighting provided by the many torches hung up on the walls was too enticing to pass. During that time, Eidar said his goodbyes, talking about something with the man behind the counter and the leaving the Inn. I waved bye to him absent-mindedly, my attention quite clearly somewhere else. At this point, I was sure he wouldn't mind much.

"Amazing," I found myself whispering reverently. It was easier to appreciate what everyone in Tamriel saw in the Dwemer now that I could see it up close — such masterful and intricate carvings would be revered even in Ancient Greece, delicate as they were.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder — rather forcefully, honestly, though perhaps that is my less-than-stellar physique shining through.

"Oy, lad. You're the one the Guard was talking about, right?*

The one who spoke to me was a tall and pale — well, taller and paler than normal — Nord, possessing long hair in a balding "crown" and a short beard. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in a day or so, and sounded like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Not exactly the picture-perfect customer support man, to put it mildly. It was so very Skyrim.

I blinked slowly.

"Uh… I think so?"

He scoffed softly.

"He thinks so… you're the one. Jay Son, or something. He paid for your stay and told me to warn you."

"Oh. He did? That's .. rather nice of him."

The irritated-looking stranger nodded at me. He was a man one could call ill-tempered, I could tell, but to his merit it seems that whatever it was that Eidar told him was enough to make him want to make me at least a little comfortable.

"Aye. My name's Kleppr. I run the Inn with my wife, who should be somewhere around. Whenever you feel like sleeping, I'll show you to your room."

Alright. Sounded straightforward enough. I nodded at his words, turning back to the walls to stare a little longer, trying to make sense of the carvings — but the man didn't walk away.

"Never seen a wall before, boy?"

This time, I was the one who scoffed, though the sound that escaped my lips was considerably more tired than frustrated. In such a situation, t'is a wonder I managed even that. Still, I turned to look at Kleppr with furrowed eyebrows, a frown on my lips.

"What? Of course I have. What do you take me for?" At that, I paused. "Don't answer that. I was admiring the Dwemer craftsmanship. It's … honestly, it's simply astounding. I wonder if this is an alphabet of sorts? It looks like nothing I've ever seen before, that's for sure."

I noticed Kleppr's eyebrow rising slighting, and the rest of the Inn got ever so slightly more quiet. Taverns are as Taverns do, I suppose; Gossip is the name of the game for the ones with nothing else to do, and, at least for now, I stuck out like a sore thumb. 'Child' in the middle of adults, talking nonsense and citing the dwemer, after having been accompanied in

"Huh. Aren't you a little young to be a, what d'ya call it, scholar?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was 17?"

He stared at me dead in the eyes.

"No." He said simply.

At that, though a little frustrated, I shrugged. It hurt my pride a little, but at this point the metaphorical running gag had gotten old and I was starting to get used to it. It might certainly come in handy.

"Fair enough. But still, I'm not quite a scholar… I just find these things interesting, y'know? Also I'm still somewhat dissociating from the fact I woke up in an altar next to a knife, but I digress.".

Another, longer, pause Kleppr's posture sagged slightly, and he offered me a mug of ale — of ale! — as he shrugged his shoulders at me. There was a hint of sympathy in his eyes, though, that made me feel a little more hopeful.

"Sounds rough."

— Thank you, Kleppr, for the enlightening remark.

This was going to be a long night