Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Nobody has time to deal with bandits. That includes tax collectors, who have permits. Go away, nobody likes you. That said, I invite all of you to read 'Certain as Death and Taxes' by… I forgot what their name was. It's pretty awesome though.

A/N: Not gonna lie – I love worldbuilding, and I love spending time carefully setting up situations so that they'll play out as I want them, where the 'setup' might take some chapters. So yeah.

Last time…

I want to get out of this damned city. At least I have enough coin to last me to Whiterun… Whiterun sounds nice and peaceful. And vampire-free, which sounds wonderful right about now.

Chapter 7 – Whiterun Steel

I wait before visiting the jarl, dropping Thonnir off and demanding that Lami make a Cure Disease potion or else I'd come bite her once the disease became incurable. She probably doesn't like me so much anymore after that not-so-fake threat. I do take two minor healing potions, all I can afford for now. And I give one of them to Thonnir to stop the bleeding of his leg. My ribs and arm feel a little better now, and I quickly go visit the Jarl. I should see if there's a wizard with a healing spell that might cure disease… Hopefully, there is. Its two days travel to Whiterun if I make utmost haste, which I cannot when feeling continuously thirsty and nauseous.

At least Helgi thanked me before 'going to sleep'. She's at peace with her mother now, I'm sure of it.

…

The visit to the Jarl goes smoothly, and I give her a hesitant smile when she offers to name me Thane of Hjaalmarch, should I help several of her people. "I'd be honoured… My jarl, if I may ask, do you know somewhere aside from Lami's where I may acquire a potion of Cure Disease? I'm afraid the matter is quite urgent." She sits in utmost silence for a few beats, frozen to her chair. "You caught Sanguinis Vampiris whilst battling Movarth, then. For there is no other reason to ask..?" I give her a slow, wary nod, shifting away from the guard when he readies his weapon.

"FALION!" She suddenly barks loudly, calling a man in mage robes into the room. "Cure this Mer of any diseases he might have!" The man nods once, and turns to me, eyeing me before disappearing from the room and coming back with a small, red bottle that currently holds my fate. I down it the second he hands it to me, and the thirst and nausea disappear nigh instantly.

To my dying breath will I deny it, but I wilt in relief. Then I bow deeply to the two with a sincere "Thank you." After seeing those blood-sucking cretins… No, I do not wish for such a curse upon myself. I'll slit my throat with my own axe before sinking that far into depravity.

Idgrod merely nods stoically. "I cannot have the person who saved my hold fall prey to those he saved it from even after their deaths, now can I? You're always welcome here… But the divines have foretold that your journey calls you elsewhere for now." She ends vaguely, something shifting in her gaze. A seer? I hadn't thought any with the gift would still be alive today.

A family friend had been a seer. He's… dead now. I think. I hope not, but after thousands of years…

"Thank you, again."

There is no carriage service in Morthal, as it isn't on any trade routes. So, tonight I will rest in peace knowing no more vampires threaten this city for now, tomorrow I will go back to the cavern to take the some of the valuables and coin I spotted there, and then I'll right away leave for Whiterun hold. If I'm lucky, I might find a stream or something that isn't a quicksand pit like these marshes, and wash up before entering the city. People here have deplorable hygiene. I want a bathtub and soap. Even my Ma's floral soap if need be. I'd rather smell like a woman than a Skeever's ass.

I talk to Jonna for a bit, telling her about my findings in the vampire's lair, where she gasps in horror at all the appropriate times and lets me drink one bottle of ale for free once more, and this time in thanks for my deeds. Aye, thank me for massacring a bunch of people, killing Alva, and getting Hroggar arrested. I think somewhat sarcastically. Sellsword indeed. The amount of coin I now have on my person is starting to become ridiculous, but since it's the only way of payment here, I suppose I might as well gather whatever is in the lair tomorrow.

I do just that the next day, and run into the young woman who I found arguing with Jarl Idgrod on that first day, which seemed an eternity ago. "Oh, the half-blood!" She says as I pass, before calling after me. "Hey, you, wait up a moment!" I turn on my heel, unimpressed. "Hello, Uhm, thanks again for helping us with the vampire problem. I'm Idgrod, like my mother. You see, I heard from Jonna that you were headed to Whiterun, and I wondered if you might want to deliver a letter for me. You see, my little brother has a… gift. It makes him a bit confused, and I worry about his health. Can you take this to Danica, Danica Pure-Spring? She's the priestess of Kynareth in Whiterun, you'll find her in the temple there."

After a few tense moment, I slowly take the paper from her grip. "I am planning to travel onwards after Whiterun, so I might not be able to tell you if it has been delivered for quite some time." I warn her, but she dismisses it. "For now, what's important is that it reaches her. If she thinks something should be done she'll send a courier, I'm sure. I'll just give you some coin when I see you next time then, after you've delivered the letter."

I sigh, but agree with her before starting down the road with the map I bought back in Solitude. Eastwards first, then turn south into Whiterun hold. I can expect a few farms and maybe a fort or watchtower from what Aicantar taught me… And Dragonsreach is said to stand out far above the flowing, endless fields that are a trademark of the hold. I can hardly not go out of my way for a simple errand like delivering a letter.

I put away the map and keep up a steady pace through the marches, mostly to keep myself warm and awake, and not too focused on the scenery as to be alert to threats such as spiders similar to the ones that welcomed me into Understone Keep, or the Hagravens that took the life of a travelling companion, or the vampires that seem to inhabit these parts. Who knows what else is here.

Damn surface dwellers can't just kill anything properly, apparently. Or there's just… so many enemies. Do they spawn from Oblivion?

Also, thieves and bandits are a common problem. Probably the reason any and all travellers are considered sellswords these days. Nobody else would be mad enough to traverse the roads on their own. There's also the civil war throwing people off track, making them cautious to leave their houses and in turn making the roads even more dangerous due to the desperation of the bandits that may usually afford to wait.

…

Aye, thieves and bandits are QUITE a common problem. I think, glaring and crossing my arms as a thief jumps out from behind a rock. I let out a low growl as the Mer approaches – I admit, I've never seen an elf with such odd brown skin, like wood, before. This must be a Bosmer. "All right, hand over your valuables and I'll not kill you."

"I have no time to deal with you." I answer bluntly, drawing my axe and pouncing on him before he can even swing his dagger at my throat. Several tense minutes and a gash on my hand later, I loot the corpse for several coins and an emerald.

Can't they just… build a farm somewhere, do something useful? I sigh, dragging the corpse off the road behind the rock he jumped from. I admit, he caught me by surprise. I suppose I can't get rid of my tendency to let my mind wander when not suitably entertained. I didn't have this problem before, though, to be caught off guard by a bandit or thief – next time I might not be so lucky. To be fair, my luck is what has kept me from death so far. That needs to change.

But travelling with Benor, and Ondolemar too… The company made it easier to keep my attention on the road. I'll need to see if anyone is willing to travel with me once I get to Whiterun. I love the freedom that comes with seeing an endless horizon all around me, but my thoughts can be dangerous without someone to drag me away from them.

Oblivion, before I know it, I'm so lost I wander into Dawnstar! My supplies, for now, are refilled with a wrapped honey-nut treat and some venison chop. I don't even like honey-nut treats, but I know that I'll be glad to have it tomorrow, when I'll have run out of bread. I continue on my way, not really seeing any other threats but spotting two gigantic humanoid creatures alongside huge… brown-furred beasts with large marked tusks jutting out on either side of an elongated nose. Needless to say, I stay clear of them, hiding on top of a hill and taking my chances with the wolves there rather than staying anywhere near the things.

I also spot ruins on top of the mountains, but I stay away, not feeling up to seeing more large places in shambles yet. The next day I fight a few skeletons and a necromancer near a few carved stones on a hill. I mark the place on my map, just as I marked the ruins. By midday, I come across a fort. I again mark the spot at the junction of three roads, before turning down the one that seems to lead up to the impressive building ahead. That must be Dragonsreach. I wonder if the foundations are strong, or if they're risking collapse at this very moment. I pass some guards, who eye me and call out warnings – "No lollygagging." What is that word supposed to mean? Aicantar never mentioned it. To 'gag' means to… choke, right? Choke on what, what's a 'lolly'? I know better than to ask.

Nevertheless I walk up the path, not seeing anything of interest aside from a few farms and… are those primitive windmills? Have these people still not figured out how to properly use steam, shock magic, heat, or soul gems? I shake my head sadly.

It's awful to know that before I went to sleep, the Nedes used much the same 'technology'. Proves how far ahead my people were, though our sense of innovation in the end made… everyone disappear. At least, that's the most likely conclusion. I should do more research once I get access to material Calcelmo didn't have – found in other Dwemer cities, most likely.

I come to a slow stop in the middle of the road, before visibly shaking myself and resolutely continuing up the road, spotting a few tents with Khajit. This must be one of those caravans that Ghorza mentioned, the ones she sold her goods to so they'd be spread across Tamriel. She doesn't seem to trust them though… I wonder why..?

Deciding that my curiosity can be sated after lunch, I let them be, though I see what looks like the oldest of the cat-people give me an equally curious look. That's it – when I leave the city, I'm talking to them. Whiterun has an impressive set of walls, though they can use some tips about the upkeep, since they are crumbling slightly in some places. Again, I find myself comparing the culture I grew up with to the one I'm faced with. These walls cannot be older that five hundred years. A long time, aye, but not as long as what my people managed… Or I'd be buried beneath layers of stone so heavy I could never get out.

Khajit, Redguards, Nords, Imperials… It's quite a lot to take in, and I can barely tell the races of Men apart, despite their 'differences'. I feel so old, thinking about times where there were only Dwemer and the occasional Snowmer where I lived. I greet the guards charmingly, and they let me in without much trouble, saying that they have to worry about bandits getting in. I ask another passing guard if he knows the date. "I've been out in the wilds for a bit, it's not easy to keep track of time."

He snorts, but answers anyway: "Sure thing. It's Middas, 17th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 201. Welcome to Whiterun, traveller." I smile and thank him. This place has a far more positive feel to it than Markarth, as well as Morthal and Solitude. It's calm. Peaceful even. The soft smile stays on my lips even as I walk past the blacksmith, vowing to myself to visit it later. First, I have temple to find. The marketplace is bustling with people walking to and fro, and selling their wares. I buy some fresh apples to last me a bit at the stand that sells vegetables and fruit. My purse barely feels the impact, unlike when I first worked with Ghorza to make some coin. I have several hundred, at least. Rather frustrating, I imagine, having to count them all out for a large purchase like a horse or new furniture.

Maybe if I get my hands on some paper rolls, I can use the system the Snowmer used for their coin.

The woman at the stand, Carlotta, spends some time complaining about a bard called Mikael who is bothering her with unwanted advances - Hn… Maybe I should have a talk with that man… - before happily explaining how to get to the Temple of Kynareth.

The temple is quite beautifully build, I decide upon entering, the soft jingle of healing magic resounding through the place and the blue tiled floor with small, shallow water basins give the place a peaceful feeling that's even more prevalent here than in the rest of Whiterun. Does this young goddess, likely derived from Kyne, protect the city? It would explain the atmosphere.

This place… were it made out of stone, would it be less appealing?

A woman dressed in priestess' robes walks up to me calmly. "Hello, child. How may a humble servant of Kynareth serve you today?" Her voice is oddly lilting, as calm as the water. "I am searching from Danica Pure-Spring. I have a letter from Idgrod the Younger of Morthal regarding her little brother's health."

"Look no further then, child. My name is Danica, I am a priestess here at the temple. Thank you for bringing this to me." She smiles gently as I hand over the letter. "Are you not too young to be out on the roads alone, child?" I clear my throat politely, though the feeling of annoyance that's rising is anything but polite. "Nay. I have seen nineteen winters. Old enough to survive." I answer, perhaps a tad sharply. Still, I give her an apologetic smile even as her eyebrows disappear below her hood. "Truly?"

I give her a small grin. Old enough to take out a coven of vampires and receive the offer to become thane of Hjaalmarch, I want to say. Instead, I excuse myself to go to the blacksmith. Warmaidens'. Sounds like a place my Ma would approve of.

I push the sting in my chest away with more ease now that nearly six months have passed, but any thought of the sudden loss of my entire people still has my heart ache, and my mind whir with a dozen thoughts. What I would not give for my Ma's embrace, or a nudge from Mellte, or even a pat on the shoulder from uncle…

Maybe I can find a little peace of mind when I get my hands on some proper steel. I observe the people I pass by as they observe me in return. Most of them look rather nice, but the animosity between some of them is off somehow. Like unwilling enemies. I'll need to figure that out somehow, but not now.

Children run by as I come near the blacksmith, enjoying the familiar sounds of a hammer meeting steel. Some of the tension in my shoulders melts off when I stop to listen.

"I'm not the best blacksmith in Whiterun. Eorlund Gray-Mane's got that honour. The man's steel is legendary. All I ask is a fair chance." Is what the dark-skinned woman says when I get closer. "Legendary steel you say? I've never heard of any Gray-Mane, to be honest." She raises an eyebrow, and actually pauses with the dent she's trying to work out of a steel bracer on the workbench. I think of my own gear, and wonder if she could give me a hand repairing it. If anyone has some filled Soul gems and an enchanter, I'd enchant oblivion out of it – knowing how to enchant is both a blacksmith apprentice's first and last lesson.

Even if magic it mostly unnecessary when one has the proper technology to make up for it, every Forgemaster worth their salt can at least appreciate the art. Especially when it comes to life-or-death due to enhanced fire resistance on a chest piece…

"How can you not have heard of Skyforge steel?" She asks somewhat incredulously. Leaning against one of the poles holding up the roof casually. I shrug and smirk. "Just assume I've been living under a rock for the past three thousand years. All I know is that I was taught that the quality of the steel depends not on the forge or the materials, but on the skill of the smith. Anyway, do you need a hand at the forge? I'm looking for a way to perfect my Smithing skills… only I don't have the materials to practice at all."

She chuckles. "A blacksmith, really? I saw you enter the city earlier, could've sworn you were a sellsword. Not many other folks braving the roads these days." I grumble under my breath and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Many people seem to assume that's my profession these days. Before long, I'll get into serious trouble, I just know it." She smirks at me. "Somehow, I doubt that'll be true. People will look for a strong and tall Nord to solve their problems, not a squirt like you." I let out a mock-affronted gasp, holding a hand over my heart with theatrically wide eyes. "How dare you say such a thing? But really," I continue in my normal, deadpan voice, "Need a hand?"

I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter includes… Angst! Who doesn't love it? Srsly I hate myself for writing over a thousand words of pain. I want people to be happy, why can't my OC stop crying like the not-sure-what-he's-doing teen I'm trying to portray him as? At least there'll be action soon.