AN:

I don't own the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Bethesda Softworks got it first. Besides, I don't think I could make an elaborate world like they did

Opinions of the characters don't necessary correspondent with my own

4E201 11th of Rain's Hand

Solitude

It is one of these days again. The rain was falling so much, it seemed like Kanareth herself was in mourning. It fitted, as I live near the graveyard of Solitude. It is a quiet neighbourhood. A good place for me and my ponderings. Said ponder didn't take longer as I heard a knock on my door. With a grumble, I told the knocker that the door was open.

And what a knocker it was.

Fit legs with muscles in the right places brought in a dame with quite a pack. A pack filled with messages, scrolls and other documents. The light from the candle on my table allowed me to see a callused hand reaching out to me. Deft fingers held an envelope.

This is trouble.

The dame might be innocent as a child, but the message she brought me wasn't. One distant glance at the waxed seal was enough to raise the hairs in my neck.

''I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver - your hands only.''

Ah. That voice. That voice would befit a bard. I would pay her to read out a book for me, just so I could hear that voice longer.

''Sir, I got a delivery for you.''

But sadly, duty calls and we had to separate. After have given her some extra Septims on top of the normal fee, I watched her leave my home. Oh, that rear looks good too.

But I am the butt of the joke that is my existence as I inspected the waxed seal. An eagle.

I swore by the Eight.

I broke the seal and opened the envelope to read the verdict of doom.

To Ferdinus Platorius, Private Mage,

It has come to our attention that you have the ability to find lost items of importance. As an ally of the Empire, we request you to lend your aid for our cause. Your presence will be expected in the Understone Keep in Markarth at the 13th of Rain's Hand. Remissness will not be allowed.

Thalmor Justiciar Commander Ondolemar

I swore again. This time by the Nine out of spite

4E201 11th of Rain's Hand

Solitude. The Loaded Dice

Every city, no matter how pretty, got it's heinous side. Solitude was no exception to that rule. While the Winking Skeever had its dirt shaped like a slippery lizard in fancy clothes, the Loaded Dice was full with dirt. Not that dirt was a bad thing. It is apparently an ingredient for face masks that feed the skin. Or so Narcissus claims. He isn't called 'the Fair Faced' for nothing.

But back to the Dice. It looks seedy, which keeps certain people out, but it is my kind of place. Filled to the brim with interesting talk and folk. As long as you know how and where to look.

The floor creaked like it was suffering from a mammoth stepping on it and the mixture of stale ale and misery reaches my nose. My eyes flit around before walking to the bar. It was still quiet, not even afternoon. But habits die hard.

''Mudda. Drink for my William.''

The dame working at the bar gives a nods and walks to the back. She gestured to one of the workers to take over. I follow her and settle myself at a small table in the backroom.

Ah, Mudda. She is the owner of the Dice. Took over the place after the previous owner died from natural causes. Of course, this being Skyrim, steel between the ribs count as natural.

Out of nowhere, Mudda appeared and wiped the competition for the Loaded Dice. As an orc, she got a brute-ish appearance. Dark green skin, a nose with holes so big to make a pig jealous and tusks as mean as her mace. It was a face only parents and drunkards would love.

Her looks did not indicate her heart. Se was rough and tough, but showed her care for others in her own way. With her at the bar, the Dice became a sanctuary amidst the people of the underbelly. To ensure folk could vent their frustrations at their lives, she organised bar fight nights. Except on Turdas. That was poetry slam night. Initiates at the Bard's College had to attend at least once before advancing in their careers. The verbal slaughter was quite amusing.

Mudda poured me a stiff drink as she spoke up with her gruff voice; ''Ve gots in deep trebble, boy.''

And how could I forget her accent? No one seems to know where it came from. The wildest stories go around on why she talks like that.

''I know,'' I said as I stared at my drink. ''A troublesome job.''

''Wot kind ov job?''

''The usual. It's the client that gives the trouble.''

''Most ov tem are like thot,'' she dismissed.

''Not like this.'' I showed Mudda the letter, no demand, that I got this morning.

It was a short letter, so it didn't took long until I heard her reaction.

''Dem! Thot schmells like a trap.''

I nodded. We both know that this would be my last job. Working for the Thalmor, with a past like mine is as dangerous as challenging a frost troll without fire and armour. After all, the high elves have long memories. But staying here in Solitude was not an option. I rather spring the trap and take as many of those pee coloured pests with me. Better that than getting dragged out of my home in the middle of the night.

''Keel as meny as hyu ken.''

Mudda thinks the same about it as I do.

In this house, there is no love for the Thalmor.