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One note before we begin:
"Betmer (Betmeri - plural) is the collective term used to refer to bestial races. Among this phylum are the Khajiit and Argonian." - Elder Scrolls Wiki.
As she walked through the city, many of the townsfolk commented her on her armor and all Lydia could do was grin. The armor was a vast improvement over her previous one and even Caius looked envious. Once outside the city walls, Lydia spotted the Betmer perched on a fence near the stables, watching Jervar as he moved some hay around in the field. Her Thane wore a set of Scaled Armor, minus the helmet, and attached to her hip were a wicked-looking mace and dagger, both possibly Orcish and glowing red.
M'rasha's eyes were trained on Lydia as she approached the fence. "I see that the armor's a good fit."
"Yes, it is. Thank you." M'rasha hopped off the fence and headed down the cobblestone path. Lydia walked in time behind her. "Where are we going," Lydia asked.
"Halted Stream Camp. The Jarl's steward told me bandits have been attacking people on the road. So we're going to persuade them to stop."
From the way she said it though, Lydia didn't believe M'rasha's definition of persuasion involved talking.
After ducking a bandit's swing of his great sword and thrusting her own sword into his neck, Lydia concluded that she was both right and wrong.
She was wrong in the sense that M'rasha's method of persuasion actually involved talking to the bandits. "Just to give them a fair chance," she explained to the bewildered Nord, "If they refuse, we use a different method."
And so, from a safe distance on top of a stone, Lydia watched as M'rasha strolled up to the wooden gates of the structure protecting the mine and began talking to one of the bandits, a Dunmer, positioned atop the wall. The Nord was surprised that, unlike in her previous experiences with bandits while she was a guard, the man in charge was calm. He leaned over the edge and the two talked as if they were old friends.
As Lydia observed their casual dialogue from the rock, she felt uneasy. Something was wrong. These were criminals – violent, ruthless outlaws- who killed just for fun. Basically the antithesis of how they were currently acting. Lydia was about to call out to the other woman when she spotted some movement out of the corner of her eye. At the very far side of the wall, one of the bandits whipped out a bow, nocked it with an arrow and aimed it at the oblivious Khajiit. And before Lydia could warn M'rasha, the archer fired.
"I think they're done talking!" M'rasha said loudly as she easily side-stepped the arrow before retaliating by shooting a shard of ice. It sailed through the air and hit the archer, piercing his neck and sending his lifeless body over the side of the wall.
And then there was chaos.
Fortunately for Lydia, M'rasha's alternate method of persuasion involved more fighting than talking once she heard the familiar sound of a magic armor spell being cast. Anyone who stood in her way was either stabbed by a flying icicle or had their head bashed in. Lydia was just happy that the cat was a competent fighter. Though she would admit she was unnerved when M'rasha deemed the best way to deal with the bandits inside of the mine was to set fire to a grease puddle in the middle of the room (Why they even had a grease puddle in the room puzzled her) and then proceeded to pounce on any bandit who was still standing, alight or not.
Soon they were the only souls still standing in the camp. They began looting the chests, taking anything of value, including the pendant of the deceased chief.
"Alright," M'rasha stuck the pendant in a pocket. "This should fetch us quite a bit of gold."
Lydia sheathed her sword. "Looks like your plan of persuasion failed."
M'rasha rolled her eyes. "Hardly. We were actually making progress. And then he said something he really shouldn't have said."
"What did he say?"
"You really want to know?"
Lydia shrugged her shoulders. "Why not?"
M'rasha approached a cabinet and began rummaging through the shelves, pocketing some small vials. "After I told him that he and his merry little band of brigands needed to relocate their base of operations, he laughed and told me I was crazy. Then he asked if I wanted to become his little pet. 'I'll give you all the cream you'll ever need,' were his exact words. I respectfully declined and decided they needed to die."
Lydia nodded her head slightly, understanding M'rasha's motive. "Was that all?"
M'rasha moved away from the shelves and towards the back of the small cavern. "He was also going to either persuade you to join his little group or make you into a slave. I told him I don't like to share things that belong to me. He wasn't too thrilled to hear that."
Lydia spun around and stomped towards the shorter woman, "For your information, I am not a 'thing' and furthermore-" Before she could continue Lydia heard a clank and then felt M'rasha grab her arm and pull her to the side just as a giant skeleton mammoth head, connected to some rope, flew through the air and right where the Nord was previously standing.
"Watch where you step," M'rasha said, releasing the Nord's arm. "I don't feel like dragging you all the way back to Whiterun."
"I do not belong to you," Lydia declared.
"Is that so?" M'rasha stared at the former guard, tucking her hands behind her back.
"You are my housecarl," the Khajiit stated as she moved closer to Lydia until they were only inches apart, "Meaning if I point to a person and say kill them, you do it. If I give you something to hold, you're going to carry it around until I say to drop it. If we are surrounded by throngs of Dremora and I tell you to keep them at bay while I escape, you're going to do it with a smile on your face. And if you don't like it, then you can resign."
And then a smile appeared on M'rasha's face. Not a genuine smile, no. It was one that clearly stated 'I know how to push your buttons and push them I shall!'
She tilted her head forward and said, almost in a whisper, "Of course by doing that, you are basically spitting in the face of the Jarl. You'll be known as the Nord who couldn't handle a Khajiit. Would you really want that?"
Lydia's eyes narrowed into slits, a look of contempt on her face. "No."
"No, what?"
"No my Thane," Lydia replied through clenched teeth, diverting her gaze.
"Good. Now that we've ironed out that detail, try to keep up." The two continued up the narrow passageway until they reached the mouth of the cave.
"Huh, a spike trap. And a lot of bodies." True enough, when Lydia looked over M'rasha's shoulder she saw a plethora of sharp wooden stakes and several bodies impaled on them. M'rasha turned her head upwards. "Stay here. I'm going to go see where the top of the pit is."
M'rasha slid by Lydia and entered the cave. As soon as she heard the footsteps fade away, Lydia punched the cave wall. The resulting blow caused several small pebbles to fall from the roof of the cave. 'Damn that cat to Oblivion!' Lydia thought serving under her would be embarrassing but this, this was worse. There was nothing she wanted more than to wipe the smile of that cat's face. M'rasha may be Khajiit but she had the mannerism and the attitude of the Thalmor who strutted around Skyrim as if they controlled the place.
And then a frightening thought ran through her head. 'What if she was a Thalmor supporter? After all, Elsweyr is part of the Dominion.' The fact that she was assigned to protect someone like that… She shuddered and paced around, like a riled up saber-cat until the Nord heard her name being called from above.
"Lydia, are you there?" The voice that called her was faint. She looked up and saw M'rasha's face through the sparse foliage.
"I am," was her quick reply.
"Okay, meet me in the front of the mine. I think I found out why there are so many bodies." Lydia traversed through the mine and walked back out into the encampment. M'rasha was waiting near the entrance, mounted atop a black and white horse.
"Found him tethered near the hole. Greed was the downfall for those in the pit." She stroked the horse's mane. "Hop on. We can use it to get to Dawnstar."
"We're going to Dawnstar? What for?"
M'rasha let out an annoyed sigh. "Are you always this inquisitive?"
Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. "Only when dealing with skooma addicts." She realized her gaff and averted her eyes from the Khajiit.
M'rasha rolled her eyes at the comment. "Well then it's very fortunate that you are not traveling with one. And we're going to Dawnstar because I have to deliver something. Now then, climb aboard so we can go," she patted the space behind her.
"I'll walk," the Nord stated calmly. She would hope that would be the end of that. But she was wrong. M'rasha stilled the horse before jumping off. "You'd rather walk all the way to Dawnstar than jump on a horse with me and make it in half the time?"
'No.' "Yes." Lydia bit her tongue as soon as the word left her mouth.
M'rasha studied Lydia carefully for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders. "Fine." She began to walk to the main road pulling the horse by its reins. Lydia kept to the rear. As soon as the cobblestone was under their feet, M'rasha released the horse's reins, turned it towards the south and smacked its rear. The horse loudly neighed and took off, all while Lydia watched in stunned silence until the horse was nothing but a dot nearing the horizon.
The Nord spun, a bewildered look on her face, "Are you crazy? Why did you do that?"
M'rasha returned her look with a nonchalant one. "Because I can. Now come on, daylight's burning and I want to get to Dawnstar fast." She turned and started towards the north at a brisk pace. Lydia followed behind with a scowl on her face.
It was going to be a very long trip.
Despite the looming threat of civil war, the return of the dragons, bandits, rogue wizards and a slew of creatures that wanted nothing more but to feast upon one's dead remains, Skyrim could be a peaceful place. The two women continued their trek north through the rocky plains in relative silence. As they approached a fork in the path, M'rasha's ears perked up and her pace slowed down.
"What is it," Lydia asked. M'rasha stopped and held up a hand, silencing her. Without moving her head, M'rasha glanced off to the side and her raised hand dropped to her dagger. Before Lydia could repeat her question, a group of soldiers, seven in total, darted out from some nearby boulders and shrubbery, all garbed in Stormcloak armor. A tall soldier wearing a horned helmet took a step towards the pair. "In the name of the Jarl, I order you to stop!"
"What do you want," M'rasha harshly asked. Her hand was now on the hilt of her blade.
"This road is closed." He explained, facing Lydia rather than M'rasha. "We've been assigned to turn away all travelers."
"By whose authority?"
"By the authority of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak."
M'rasha scowled and walked past the man. Another soldier quickly blocked her way. "Stand aside."
"You dare go against Jarl Ulfric's command, beast?" The soldier arrogantly asked.
The Betmer returned his hubris. "Yes. If you weren't too busy drinking all of your mead, and screwing 5 Septim whores, you'd realize you're still in Whiterun Hold. Not Eastmarch and not any other region Ulfric has managed to coerce in joining him. You're on Imperial land, boy. Do well to remember that because you don't know where the Legion hides."
The Khajiit pushed by the man and continued walking down the path. Enraged, the humiliated soldier pulled out his sword and pointed it at M'rasha's back. "The cat's an Imperial spy!" He screamed before lunging at her.
"Look out!" Lydia shoved one of the Stormcloaks aside as she unsheathed her sword. But M'rasha was much, much faster, her moves like lightening. As the man pitched forward, the Khajiit moved to the side, out of his striking range and grabbed the man's wrist, dragging him forward until the tip of her dagger rested at the man's unguarded throat.
"I should have your neck," M'rasha hissed, pushing the blade slightly into his skin. He yelped causing his fellow soldiers to start for the Betmer.
"Another step and I make a new breathing hole in his throat," she warned. The men stopped their advance but watched M'rasha warily.
"I am normally not in the habit of giving those who attack me second chances, as my fellow traveler can tell you. So learn from this experience: Be very careful of who you try to intimidate. And if you do decide to bully someone, try to do it on your own territory. Do you understand?"
Even with a blade against his neck the man was still defiant as he tried to save face in front of the others. M'rasha sucked her teeth and pressed the dagger harder into his neck, causing him to cry out in pain. "I asked a question and I expect an answer."
"Yes!" He yelped as the blade bit into his skin.
"Good enough." Her eyes moved from the man to the group behind him. "Lydia, we're leaving."
The Nord moved towards her Thane. Once Lydia was next to her, M'rasha released the man's wrist but still had her dagger at his neck. "Follow us and you die."
The soldier nodded and M'rasha began to back away. She quickly sheathed her weapon and began briskly walking away from the Stormcloaks. Lydia trailed behind her, looking over her shoulder every few steps. They arrived at Whitewatch Tower a few minutes later where some Whiterun guards were stationed.
"Stay here. I'll be back." Lydia nodded and watched as M'rasha approached one of the guards. They spoke for a few moments before the guard shook her hand and ran into the tower.
"What was that about," Lydia asked M'rasha once she returned.
"I just told him to send someone to Dragonsreach and tell the steward about Halted Stream Camp. Now if you're done asking questions, we need to move. Dawnstar is a long way from here."
"Of course, my Thane."