Chapter Six
The Wrothgar and Dragontail Mountains were a sight to behold as Alys and the Legion patrol were riding through the pass that would lead them slightly south of Markarth. Barnak, the Orismer in charge of the group estimated that they would arrive in Markarth at sun high today.
Alys had noticed that the air was surprisingly warm as they were crossing over into Skyrim—not a speck of snow in sight, much to her relief. She remembered that Markarth tended to be the warmest city in all of Skyrim, mostly due to its advantageous position as a valley in one of the largest mountain ranges in Tamriel. Most of the ground in the pass was covered in a thick layer of moss that seemed to be prolific in this area, so much so that it draped from some of the hemlock tree branches. She still wasn't enthused about being in Skyrim, but being in this temperate rainforest for a winter could prove to be quite interesting.
"Barnak, does it get cold here during the winter?" she asked the orc.
He turned around in his saddle and looked at her. "Cold by your standards, yes. However, it doesn't snow here so at least that's something to look forward to. You should be glad that Howell is in Markarth and not that gods-forsaken village of Winterhold—the cold seeps right into your bones there" he remarked in his deep voice.
"Are you from this region then?" she asked him curiously.
"I grew up in Dushnikh Val, an orc stronghold in these parts. I was the youngest child of the fourth bride of the chieftain. Needless to say, as I got older, there really wasn't a place for me there. Then I joined the Imperial Legion" he said as he gave a quick overview of his life to Alys.
"Orismer culture is truly fascinating Barnak" she commented, at an attempt to continue the conversation.
"Pft, maybe to outsiders" he laughed dismissively.
Alys took that as a cue to stop asking him questions for the rest of the journey, which was only going to be a few more hours. Bleu seemed weary for from the journey through the mountain pass into Skyrim. Personally, she was going to be glad when they reached Markarth so she could lay in a proper bed.
She also felt the familiar itch to draw machinations that had been present in the back of her mind for months now. Although, perhaps it was time to respond to Hadvar's letters and write to her family once they reached Markarth.
Right as she was imagining Markarth in her mind, she realized that they were quickly approaching the city. Nchund-Zel, the Dwemer used to call it—during their time it was an architectural achievement. Vast caverns and valuable silver veins run under the city, which features many waterfalls and is built in layers that climb up the mountain. Markarth appeared to be stunning from the distance, the bronze detailing on the towers reflected light from the distance and she could actually distinguish a vast waterfall that separated the two main city districts.
"Wow, Markarth really is beautiful" she couldn't help saying aloud.
"It's gotten better since the Silver-Bloods were eh…removed from Markarth several years ago" the Nord woman behind her told her.
"Who were they?"
"A morally bankrupt family that used a Forsworn king as their puppet in one of their mines. I was in this city as Madanach was released from his prison and slaughtered dozens of guards and civilians. Needless to say, the waterfalls ran red with blood on that day and the Silver-Bloods were all executed for their treachery" the Nord continued.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier?" Alys asked her.
"I'm Sanna. I actually am going to be your assigned body guard in Markarth. I doubt old Barnak had mentioned that to you."
Sanna nudged her chestnut mare closer to Alys. She glanced at Sanna and smiled. Sanna had dark blonde hair that slightly poked out from underneath her Legionnaire helm and friendly pale blue eyes. If Alys had to guess, she appeared to be around the same age as her.
Barnak definitely had not mentioned to her that she was going to be assigned a body guard. Hell, whenever the College of Whispers sent her somewhere shady, they never offered her any kind of body guard—they just assumed she was a capable enough mage to defend herself in combat. Then again, she wasn't going to turn down the extra protection, especially since she was in unfamiliar territory. She did have to admit that she felt like a jackass for writing off traveling to Skyrim in the past. It was becoming apparent that Skyrim was more than snow, pine trees, and dragons.
"Sanna, will we see a dragon here?" she asked, trying to hide the concerned tone of her voice.
"Don't you worry, they're not as common as you would think in Skyrim." Sanna reassured her with a kind smile. "Can't wait to get this darn helmet off later. Stupid strap is rubbing my chin raw."
Alys looked around and saw that they were in one of the villages surrounding Markarth. It appeared that most of Markarth's working class lived outside of the walls, probably due to the ancient stone houses inside the walls being exorbitantly expensive. The situation was the same in Wayrest, so this was somewhat familiar to Alys. Wagons were coming into the villages, carrying either miners or uncovered ore. There were hundreds of farms that she could see off into the distance—after all this region was able to sustain more agriculture than most other regions of Skyrim. She had to estimate that there must be thousands of people that inhabit this region alone.
There were a great deal of fellow Bretons and Redguards here, so she felt less out of place than what she expected. She noticed that many Bretons here were covered in various tattoos, signifying that they were Reachmen.
Barnak signaled them to dismount at the upcoming stable—apparently it was one that the Imperial Legion shared with the Jarl of Markarth. She dismounted Bleu reluctantly and unstrapped her saddle bags. The kind Nord stable master reassured her that her horse was in good hands, sensing that she didn't like leaving him in an unfamiliar place.
She threw her saddle bags around her shoulder, the other soldiers seemed to have no issue with this, and then again this was likely an everyday occurrence for them. It was certainly killing her back slowly as she walked up the grand staircase that led into the city.
They walked into the main plaza, which was Markarth's main marketplace. It was abuzz with shouts from merchants selling their wares. A small creek ran through the plaza, splitting it in two with a walkway connecting the two plazas. Much to her displeasure, she had countless flights of stairs to climb until they reached what she assumed would be the Jarl's palace. Guards wearing the green sigil of Markarth were everywhere, as were legion soldiers. Alys imagined that they had started bolstering security due to the disaster in Solitude. She still had not heard much about the situation in Solitude.
Her leg muscles were practically screaming as she started ascending the final staircase that was next to a waterfall. Stunning view, she was sure of, but it would be easier to appreciate without all of the gear she was carrying.
The palace or 'Underkeep' guards opened the doors for the soldiers as they passed through. They were wearing a more ornate steel plate armor with a green cape, which distinguished them from the rest of the guards. As they waved her inside, much to her disappointment, there was another flight of stairs to climb. Ugh, she thought, my poor legs.
They reached the top story, which was apparently where Maric Howell resided. The other soldiers seemed relieved as well when Barnak led them to the area inside the palace designated for the Legion. He directed Senna and Alys towards the patio where a middle-aged Imperial man was sorting through various metal parts. Two Altmer researchers at a nearby table had an impressive alembic and decanter set and they appeared to be experimenting with potions.
"Alys, I can take your pack from you, if you want to go introduce yourself to Maric Howell, he is the Imperial down there" she said as she pointed him out.
"Thank you Senna, I really appreciate it" Alys responded gratefully.
She made her way down to the patio where Maric Howell was. He seemed to be deep in thought, but otherwise seemed normal enough. His leather apron was stained with grease and his white shirt had ink stains around the wrist—Alys could definitely relate to that issue.
"Maric Howell, I presume?" Alys asked respectfully.
"You're presumed correctly Miss…?"
"Miss Alys Rivers. I am here to accept that job offer."
"Splendid dear! I was wondering if you were going to even respond. I've heard you take your sweet time responding to letters, so you're actually here sooner than I expected."
Huh? Alys was confused, up until she had read the letter from Maric, she had never heard of the man. She must have had a confused look on her face, because Maric looked at her oddly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"That polite young legate that recommended you to me told me that."
Polite young legate, he must have been referring to Hadvar. "Ah, Legate Derickkson?" she inquired.
"That would be the one, yes. He comes by here every so often, then again he is charge of The Reach's Imperial forces."
"That's rather curious I suppose."
"Anyways, Miss Rivers, let me bring you up to speed with this mess" he said while gesturing at the heap of metal bits on the stone table. "As you likely know already, Markarth sits upon an even vaster abandoned Dwarven city full of scraps such as these."
"Are you trying to recreate automatons?" she asked slowly.
"No, that's a waste of time. We are going to use these scraps to design new types of weapons and perhaps create our own version of an automaton. The reason you're here is because Legate Derickkson said that you have been trying to find funding to pursue a similar project. Therefore, he deemed this arrangement an 'excellent idea' so he says anyways."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you Mister Howell, I think I'm going to head back to my room to get all of my notes."
"Don't worry about that right now kid, we've got tomorrow. Go get yourself settled in" he told her and waved his hands to dismiss her.
Maric came across as friendly enough, she supposed. One thing she had learned over the years was that some creators tended to get enraptured in their projects, to the point of becoming anti-social. Oh, then again she was already there, locking herself in her room all day and pouring over dusty and mistranslated dusty transcripts.
She didn't know how to feel about Hadvar telling Maric Howell about her—she was grateful, but she wasn't sure why he would go out on a limb and recommend her for a cushy job position. In all honesty, this would be the first steady job she has ever had; which is fact that made her feel uncomfortable at times. Yes, she was as lecturer at the College of Whispers, but she would hardly call getting paid a few thousand septims over the course of five years much of a steady job. Plus, she tried to be a mercenary in the Colovian Highlands for a few weeks after her broke off the engagement with that wretched man.
Thinking about getting a drink came to mind just about now, maybe she would check out the tavern close to the Underkeep. Even though mead was the most popular drink of choice in Skyrim, she had heard that snowberry wine was worth trying.
She walked up the stairs that led to the main entryway and then down once more to leave the keep. If she remembered right, the inn was fairly close to the waterfall as well. Loud and boisterous sounds could be heard coming out of the inn. A few Nords were outside chatting and drinking mead.
"Alys, part of having a bodyguard is letting me know when you're leaving to go somewhere!" Sanna told her, running up behind her.
Sanna looked miffed and Alys felt bad for not telling her she wanted to leave the keep for both drinks and dinner. "I'm so sorry Sanna, I'm really not used to having a body guard" she told her apologetically.
"I suppose I understand that, it can be weird having someone trailing you everywhere" she told her and shrugged. "Also, this tavern is quite good, if I recall correctly."
"I'm hoping they have drinks that aren't just mead; unfortunately I'm not fond of mead."
Sanna put her hand over her heart and pretended to be greatly offended by Alys' comment. "That's a critique of Nord culture if I have ever heard one" she responded with a smile. "Come on, let's head inside" she said as she opened the door for Alys.
The tavern's interior seemed rather cramped; revelers were everywhere and a small crowd gathered around an allegedly professional bard from the Bard's College in Solitude. He was singing some song about an ugly man's head rolling around on the floor. Personally, she thought it was rather macabre, but many of the Nords showed much enthusiasm for the song.
Sanna found a clean table for them to sit at and one of the barmaids noticed them and came over to their table. The barmaid was a tall redhead Nord that Alys assumed was around twenty. She beamed a smile at them and brought over a bowl of jazbay grapes and buttermilk biscuits. Her attire seemed interesting to Alys since it was rather revealing for the chilly late autumn air.
"Hello, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you two ladies before. My name is Ingrid and this is my second week in Markarth. Truly a beautiful city, if I say so myself. What would you ladies like today?" She asked as she took out a small notepad from her apron pocket.
"Do you have snowberry wine?" Alys asked her.
"Yes, we do! And it's absolutely delicious" Ingrid assured her.
"Perfect, I also would like a bowl of apple-cabbage soup. This is my first time in Skyrim, so I'm open to trying new things."
Ingrid jotted that down and turned her attention to Sanna. "What about you Miss?"
"Apple-cabbage soup and a pint of Honningbrew mead" Sanna responded.
"Sounds good, I'll have the cook get those started for you two."
Alys folded her arms in subconsciously and wasn't sure what to discuss with Sanna. She noticed the impressive blister that was forming on Sanna's chin from the legionnaire helmet being strapped too tightly on her face.
"What are your first impressions of Markarth, Miss Alys?" Sanna asked her curiously, her blue eyes trying to make eye contact with Alys.
"It's one of the most fascinating cities I have been to so far. I've never seen a city quite like this one—the waterfalls and the Dwarven architecture are stunning. I will have to admit though that I'm not familiar with much of the history of Markarth" Alys responded thoughtfully.
Sanna laughed nervously at Alys' last statement. "Well, it unfortunately this fair city has seen much bloodshed over the past thirty years. As you know, my kinsmen have a rather…tumultuous relationship with the Forsworn. During the Great War, the empire sent most of their Skyrim garrison to the Imperial City; which left Markarth with a small garrison of soldiers. The Forsworn saw this as an opportunity to rule the reach once again."
"Didn't Ulfric Stormcloak have something to do with the Forsworn?" Alys asked curiously.
"Yes. After several years of occupation, the rich noble families persuaded Stormcloak to take back Markarth from the Forsworn. Then, well there's no better way to put this" she whispered to Alys. "Anyone suspected of being related to the Forsworn were slaughtered, no matter how defenseless they were."
By the eight divines, Alys had no idea just how brutal Ulfric's followers could be. War is brutal and both sides commit atrocities in combat; however, Alys was horrified that Ulfric had ordered children to be slaughtered. She got why she was whispering though, a great number of Nords in Markarth still supported Ulfric reclaiming the city for the Nords.
"Between the two of us, I think we should try to make amends with the Forsworn" Sanna told her in confidence.
"I think that would be a wise option, especially with everything going on right now" Alys nodded in agreement. "So, where are you from Sanna?"
Sanna looked grateful that Alys decided to change the subject. "My parents were both merchants, so I have lived all over Skyrim. Despite, well everything, I do think of Windhelm as home, I was born there and I have spent much time there. Did you know that it's the one of the oldest inhabited cities of man in all of Tamriel?" she asked Alys. Sanna seemed to be quite apologetic for mentioning that she thought of Windhelm as her true home.
"I did not realize that, maybe I could visit there one day. It's a shame that the city has such a tarnished reputation, but I'm sure Nords like you will help turn Windhelm around."
Sanna smiled at that. "I sure hope so, I haven't been there since last spring. The legion keeps me quite busy."
Ingrid brought out their bowls of soup. Alys hoped that the soup would be delicious, since the smell of the cabbage was a bit much for her at times. They both ate in silence for few minutes. Surprisingly, Alys found both the soup and the snowberry wine to be quite flavorful. Many of the louder Nords were starting to leave in droves as the inn keeper politely told a few of them that he thought they had had enough mead for the night.
Soon her bowl of soup was empty and the snowberry wine had left her head feeling foggy. She had forgotten that alcohol was served rather generously in Skyrim.
Sanna cleared her throat after downing the last of her Honningbrew mead. "Are you ready to head back to the Underkeep?"
"Yes, my head is starting to feel rather foggy" Alys responded. She got out of the wooden chair slowly, to make sure that her balance was fine. It would be humiliating if Sanna on day one would have to give her a hand getting her back to the keep in one piece.
As Sanna opened the door, the crisp night air slapped Alys in the face. They both started to ascend the stairs into the keep and Sanna bid her farewell as she headed into her room. Despite the wine, Alys didn't feel quite ready for bed. She wondered if Maric was enough of a workaholic to still be working away at this hour.
She peered down at his workbench, sure enough her suspicion was correct. Maric cleared some of the metal rubble off of the table and had a large piece of parchment spread over the table. Walking down the stairs was starting to become easier as the wine started to wear off her mind.
"Maric, I think you should take your own advice and turn in for the night" she suggested to the exhausted looking man.
He gave her an irritated look. "Not now kid, I just had an idea and I'm going to forget it by the morning. I also don't start working until the evening anyways. Lately, the night has been when my mind flourishes" he explained.
He did sound like a bit of a madman, but as long as he didn't force her to stay up all night on projects, she was sure he would be fine to work with for a few months.
"Do you know why you have bodyguard?" he asked her while he started to sketch out a blueprint.
"No, I just assumed the legion thought I was incapable of defending myself."
"Hey, you're partially right! My last assistant got himself assassinated by a Thalmor agent. Don't you worry Miss, that agent is dead now!" Maric exclaimed enthusiastically.
Ah, now that was hardly comforting to know. "Well, I suppose I hope that I have better luck than him."
"Since you know, we are at war with them now, it is easier to kill any agents on sight. They're silly enough to wear those robes, even blind men know the rustle of those Thalmor robes."
"Okay then, Mister Howell, I'm going to turn in for the night." Alys told him as she awkwardly backed away from this uncomfortable conversation.
If Maric was telling the truth about Hadvar recommending her for his assistant position, she was going to have a word with him. Once she reached her room, she summoned a weak fire palm spell that allowed her to light two tallow candles on the desk provided for her. She opened the drawer of the desk in hope of finding a sharp quill. Ah, she found one that was a little too sharp.
Dear Hadvar Derickkson,
I apologize for the long delay in responding to your letters. Over the past few months, I've become horrible about responding to letters. I'm working on managing this feeling I get where I constantly sketch out ideas, I've been able to manage those emotions better lately.
Okay, I met Maric Howell today. He is a genius, but by the eight divines is he a madman right from the Shivering Isles! I suppose I'm grateful for you recommending me for this position, although I think I may rip my hair out while working with Maric.
He claimed that his former assistant was assassinated, although I really don't know if I should believe everything that comes out of his mouth. I've met people like him at The College of Whispers and they tend to have a hard time distinguishing their imagination from reality.
He mentioned that you visit the Underkeep often, so I'm assuming that you're stationed somewhere in The Reach? Once again, I apologize for not writing you back sooner. Perhaps I will see you sooner, rather than later?
Warm Regards,
Alys Rivers.
There, long-awaited response finished. Tomorrow morning she would take it to the Imperial Legion courier office and hand it off to them.
She glanced over her shoulder at the bed in the corner. It was a queen-sized bed made out of juniper wood and covered in what she assumed to be a stitched together sabre cat and bear pelt. Crossing her fingers that the mattress wasn't straw filled, she felt much relief when it turned out to be a mixture of wild cotton and feathers. Feeling stressed out from Maric, traveling, and worry about getting assassinated, she fell face down in the mattress and fell asleep nearly instantly.
The night hours flew by fast in her sleep and when she awoke on her side, she had a difficult time distinguishing what time it was, since there were no windows in her room. Maybe she should buy an hourglass at the market today.
Assuming that it was around eight in the morning, she went over to her pack and pulled out her worn-woolen tan leggings and brown skirt that she threw on over her cotton undergarments. Realizing that she didn't have a fresh shirt to wear today, she hoped that perhaps there was some kind of shirt in the ornate Dwemer chest in the corner by the bed. She opened it up and saw that there were a few cotton shirts in the bottom of it. She found a black shirt with buttons and buttoned it up over her breast band. She tucked it into her skirt and braided her curls to keep her hair out of her face.
Remembering the letter she left on the desk last night, she walked over to the desk and threw it into an envelope. She heated up the simple wax seal and pressed it upon the tip of the envelope. Time to head to the Imperial Legion office, hopefully they would be able to get it to him as soon as possible.
Shoot, she nearly forgot that she had to wake up Sanna before she was able to leave the Underkeep. She walked out the door way and locked the door. Right as she lifted her hand to knock on the door, she felt someone tap on her shoulder.
"Was about to wake you up Miss" Sanna remarked as she gave her a friendly smile. Noticing the letter in her hand, she looked at it curiously. "Who's the letter for, if it's okay for me to ask?"
"Um, it's for the legate that referred me to Maric Howell. I'm assuming that he's stationed somewhere in The Reach, if I can trust a word that Howell says."
"If it's Legate Derickkson, he's either here or at any of the forts in this region. He's quite famous here in Skyrim for being one of the only survivors in Helgen and personally knowing the dragonborn, you know."
They both put on their Imperial Legion cloaks and made their way towards the Underkeep's exit. She preferred her gray cloak, but Sanna had mentioned that it was better if she wore the Legion cloak to deter any pickpockets. She had her father's height, but she was still shorter than the average Imperial or Nord woman for which this cloak was designed.
"My brother made me quite aware of that fact several months ago."
Sanna nodded and led her towards Markarth's legion office, which was right across from the old Talos shrine. Given the sheer number of Nords and even Bretons that were seen entering and leaving the shrine, she was under the impression that the Legion didn't give a damn about Talos worship now that they had removed any Aldmeri Dominion agents from the city. By slaughtering both a Nordic hero and a high-ranking Legion officer, all tenants of the White-Gold Concordant had been thrown out the window.
The office was quite narrow, which was to be expected since it was just a refurbished cave. Sanna pointed her towards the Bosmer woman standing at the stone table. A small group of officers in their heavy steel-plated armor stood in the corner, chatting amongst each other.
"Hello, Miss, do you have a letter to send to another soldier?"
"Yes, it's for Legate Hadvar Derickkson" she told the Bosmer.
The Bosmer woman eyed her suspiciously. "Do you know him personally? Hadvar has asked us to not send him letters unless they're from friends or family." She seemed quite skeptical of Alys.
"Yes, he recommended me for my legion position and I wanted to thank him" she tried to sound as confident as possible.
"Okay, that works for me Miss. That'll be three septims. Just set them here on the counter" she gestured.
Alys drew three coins out of her purse and gently placed them on the counter. One of the officers in the corner glanced at her, she was an older Nord woman with graying brunette hair, she nudged one of the other officers she was talking to and looked again at Alys.
Not thinking much of it, Alys and Senna left the office and reluctantly headed back to the Underkeep. She was dreading the prospect of working with Maric for hours on end today. Once they reached the work area, Sanna told her that she would be training guard recruits in one of the nearby common areas.
"Hello Maric, how goes it today?" she asked him as he looked like he had just rolled out of bed and washed his face.
"Ready to create, my dear!" he shouted a little too loud.
"All right, what do you want me to do?" she asked him.
"You can start by showing me some of your notes" he demanded.
She drew her notes from her pack and handed them over to him. They had been wrapped carefully before she had left home to make sure any inclement weather didn't destroy them during the journey.
The morning and afternoon flew by as they compared notes and started creating a miniature ballista out of dwarven metal gathered from the surrounding ruins. If she was going to be honest with herself, working with Maric on a project was rather invigorating since he was crazy enough to listen to any of her ideas. Towards what she felt to be sunset, she jumped as she felt someone clear their throat behind her. She assumed that it was just Sanna.
"Sanna, I'm almost done working for the day."
The decidedly masculine voice behind her laughed. She turned her head and got a glimpse of who it was. Of course it was him standing there in his bulky steel plate armor with slicked back ginger hair.
"I heard that you finally responded to my letter. They basically committed robbery by charging you three gold so they could walk to the legate office by the guard tower" he told her as he crossed his arms and smirked. "I share this region with three other legates, it can get rather dull being stuck inside Fort Sungard. What do you think of Skyrim?"
"It's a bit of a culture shock, if I am going to be honest. But I'm grateful to be able to live in a city as fascinating as Markarth."
He beamed at her. "Of course. I thought you might like it here. Just ask Calcelmo and he'll give you a tour of his private Dwarven collection."
"That would be incredible, of course" she responded.
Maric was deep in thought as he dismissed her for the day. It had been a productive first day of work, especially since they have compiled a blueprint for a model they were going to assemble tomorrow.