Boredom upon the traveling sail ship, the Merrtedom as it was called, became intolerable. Jim Stacey had already lost count, but he did suppose that it had been at least 4 days on sea. Already he thought he was hallucinating. His destination, this so called Morrowind, or Vvardenfell, or whatever these people on deck called it…where was it? The name indeed was somewhat familiar since Jim Stacey had eavesdropped on some guards talking about some 'great houses' waging war. Whatever that meant. In any case, although he admitted that Hammerfell was at his lowest point economically and socially, never in his life had he imagined leaving the country. Leaving Anele was an absurd thought too. But there he was, on a ship headed for a strange land. He knew she would survive better without him. He only hoped that the hidden treasure he left with her was still intact. Jim Stacey wasn't so sure if actually leaving Sentinel was any good of an action plan. Perhaps he was too quick on his judgment. Whatever the situation, going back was now out of the question.
However, it was hard to bear with the fact that an outwardly simple act of theft could lead to one's own fleeing from their land. Already, he tried getting used to the idea that he would be beginning a whole new life. The stealing of the Imperial's pouch had not been the only thievery Jim Stacey had committed. In his earlier years, there were a number of things that came into his possession in this secretive way: expensive shirts, working tools, daggers, and other items of significance he kept away hidden lest Anele would become suspicious. In all these instances, he was lucky not to have been caught. Precautions were taken carefully, plans and escape fully detailed and practiced in his mind. Jim Stacey was a fast learner and strived to work well when sneaking. He figured he got pretty good at it, too, although he was no expert at it still. But he succeeded in something not many did.
It was merely by an unknown factor that let Jim Stacey's whereabouts be known to the Imperial tax collector. It wasn't his fault. He didn't know he let himself to be discovered. Besides, this was the first time. There were first times for everything. Just as long as he made sure he wasn't caught again, he was all right.
Now on this trip, Jim Stacey realized there was quite a bunch upon the Merrtedom, journeying just as he was. He found it startling to be around the different races of Tamriel, for he had never grown accustomed to be around such ethnicities. There were feline-like Khajit on board, a face painted Nord looking much as if he had come from war, a few Redguards Jim Stacey recognized from Sentinel, a single lizard-like figure, and a handful of Dark Elves. The Dark Elves made Jim Stacey a little ill at ease. Those intimidating red eyes and dark skin were so much different to look upon as opposed to the usual Redguard race; he didn't want to seem rude plainly staring. If he was going to this Morrowind place, he had to grow used to this. In the mean time, to avoid talking to anyone, Jim Stacey spent most of his time on deck, gazing out into the darkening sky.
He believed there was no one around and liked it better this way, by himself, so he could actually think straight for once. As if he actually could.
…Jim Stacey heard the distant squeak of wood approaching his way. It became gradually louder, until it stopped. He felt a firm grip upon his shoulder trying to turn him around. With an instinct, Jim Stacey immediately turned and seized the arm, tossing the figure in such a way that it landed on the floor. When he looked down, he laid his eye upon a male Dark Elf staring up at him with a face of absolute infuriation. The creases in his dark face stated the obvious annoyance.
The Dark Elf got up, dusting his simple shirt. He stared at the Redguard. "A storm is brewing." He said as he looked at the night sky. A few large droplets landed on Jim Stacey's skin. "It would be best if you get inside."
Jim Stacey furrowed an eyebrow in suspicion, keeping a slight guard stance as his fists clenched. "Why would an individual like yourself care about my well-being?"
"I don't." Said the Dark Elf bluntly. "They are the shipmaster's orders. Next time I'll know not to deliver it to you personally, but through someone else." He referred to the fall he had just taken.
As soon as the silence between them had developed into an awkward presence among the two, the Dark Elf took his leave rather reluctantly. He wasn't like the other Dark Elves on board, his clothing and his speaking mannerisms were by far more conspicuously different, almost as if as though he looked to be less of an outside worker. A trader? Who knows, thought Jim Stacey, a peculiar sort he is. Could he be after him?
There was no more to do upon deck. It had begun to rain, and Jim Stacey had heard the distant rumble of thunder in the sky. The hull did seem the only place in which to resort to. He was getting tired, anyway.
Within the compartments below the decks, a saccharine smell had filled Jim Stacey's lungs, a thick and sugary aroma as opposed to the bitter saltiness of the sea wind. Although an odd white fog had faltered his vision within the dimly lit area, he could see the faces of the rest of the fellow ship travelers engaging in some sort of small talk. With peculiar pipes in hand, the men had their eyes fixed on the wandering Redguard noting his physical gestures. But soon they forgot about his presence. Jim Stacey found an available bedroll to rest in over at a corner covered with some cobwebs.
"Aye, this here's good moon sugar." Said the Nord anonymously, as he inhaled through a small hole in the pipe. The white skinned man breathed out slowly through his mouth in an O shaped manner. There were no response to his statement, but it seemed like the Nord had paid no mind to it. He rambled on senselessly as everyone else attended to themselves.
Moon Sugar? Thought Jim Stacey as he rested on his side upon the uncomfortable bedroll. Moon Sugar was an addictive substance prohibited in Hammerfell, and it was doubtful any law-abiding Redguard within the country had it in their possession. Jim Stacey had been tempted to try the substance to see what was so wrong about it, since he was under no jurisdiction anymore, but judging from the red-rimmed eyes of the Nordic man, he figured he did not wish to become so…delirious, so to speak.
"What say you, Frundihl," said the Argonian to the Nord in a joking manner, "About the troubles plaguing Morrowind? I hear the Houses are at each other's necks once more."
"Ha! Houses!" He exclaimed in a tone of distaste. "As if they ever benefited anyone in anyway! Hear now, in the end they will all dissolve!"
"I don't know about that. The House Hlaalu seems to be exceedingly down on the situation. The guilds, however, take no part in this dilemma although bribery for support seems to be ongoing."
"Schlaalu, Shedoran, Shelvanni, they all strive for dominance," The Nord laughed. "This simple barbarian cares not about such affairs."
Jim Stacey frowned in bemusement. Houses, guilds, to talk of these topics were foreign to him. Apparently the situation over in Morrowind was dire, but he couldn't be so sure about something like that. He continued to stare and at the same time pretend to ponder his own thoughts, but this act caught the attention of Frundhil.
"You there," He hiccupped, directing himself to Jim Stacey. " You. Dark skin. Redguard, yes? Ah, fine place, Hammerfell. Not like Morrowind, no, too hot, but fine place."
Jim Stacey said nothing.
The Nord continued. "Silent type, eh? First time traveling? I can tell. Innocent eyes. But it seems as though you committed a crime!"
Jim Stacey's eyes widened. Was he that predictable? He shook his head. "Impossible."
"Ah, do not be in denial for I, Frundihl, have done the same."
"Ho-ho! Yes, for the past 15 years!" Called out a hoarse voice, causing a round of laughter from those inside. Jim Stacey saw nothing funny, finding no desire to laugh. Instead, he turned to his other side and closed his eyes, ignoring witty remarks from the other men. It was embarrassing to be in that position, he felt so diminutive both in experience and in knowledge. It came clear to Jim Stacey that these passengers were mostly comprised of smugglers, beings who had little regard for the law. True, Jim Stacey shared the same sentiment, but he aspired to be more than just another smuggler or thief. If he were to partake in a new beginning, his would be different. He would become someone significant, a whole new man.
"…Some people just don't deserve the comforts in which they possess, its why thievery is a necessary act of justice…"
The Nord's voiced droned continuously as Jim Stacey began to fade away in a deep sleep. Thievery an act of justice? Social ranking was sure enough a discriminating way for all beings. In reality, didn't Jim Stacey deserve all the luxuries and expenses as much as any other rich man? The wealthy, they flaunt their fortune and make a mockery of the hardworking class as an amusing sport. There is so much injustice in that kind of society.
Perhaps a life of thievery did not sound so bad.
Yes. He would become a new man indeed.