Rosha's fur boots trudged heavily over the wooden drawbridge, beating like a drum all the way across. Her gauntlet clad hand clutched the fur armor she wore, pulling it tighter around her bare arms to shield against sharp gusts of wind that bit through her skin. As a Nord she was used to it, but the harsh gales of Frostfall were never easy for anyone to endure.

Strands of her long hair whipped to the side with each rush of air, occasionally obscuring her vision but she barely felt it. She approached the city gates of Whiterun already exasperated after being sent to kill a bandit chief who turned out to be dead when she got there, only to be dealt another blow by an oblivious courier. The Western Watchtower was barely in view when he approached her with the accursed piece of yellowed parchment she clutched tightly in her hand. The message written in that neatly looped script had shifted her annoyance into full-blown anger.

She threw open the wooden door to the Bannered Mare and let a large gust of the cold night air tumble in behind her before she slammed it shut. After scanning the throng of people in the tavern she found the sender quick enough, wiping a mug behind the counter with a less than clean rag and a careless smile on her face. A smile that made Rosha sick to her stomach.

She stormed over to the bar, the aggressive state of her demeanor getting the attention of the innkeep. Hulda abruptly stopped wiping and stared at the enraged Nord, still smiling while she waited for her to speak.

As if she had no idea what this could possibly be about.

"Hulda, what the fuck?" Rosha asked, slapping the paper onto the empty space of counter between them. "I payed my tab before I left. Explain to me why in Oblivion you think I owe you this coin."

Hulda's eyes narrowed as they traveled from the crumpled piece of paper to Rosha's enraged expression, slamming the mug she was holding down onto the counter in a similar manner.

"It's Tjorvi's tab," she said assertively, as if that solved everything.

"He died two weeks ago," Rosha ground out through a clenched jaw. "Are you really so stupid that I have to remind you?"

"I'm sorry, Rosha," the innkeep said. Her gaze softened, a pathetic gesture to accompany the lie that she was actually sorry. She crossed her arms and stood up a little straighter.

"He owed me money. As his next of kin you are now responsible."

Rosha couldn't believe what she was hearing. By that point she was boiling. "Why would you ever let anyone drink this much? This bill is outrageously high! How do I know you aren't making this shit up?"

Hulda raised an eyebrow and gave her a pointed look. They both knew well and good how much Tjorvi drank. He was known for that more than anything else. Rosha was clearly grasping at straws and Hulda was acutely aware that she had the upper hand in the argument.

"I don't care how much anyone drinks. I always get paid."

Rosha scoffed. "Is that a threat?"

Hulda narrowed her eyes again. "It's a promise."

Rosha wrinkled her nose spitefully. Childish maybe, but she was too furious to care.

"I can make promises, too," she said, leaning forward as she lowered her voice, although it took on a slightly higher pitch. "Maybe I'll ask the Dark Brotherhood to pay you a visit."

Hulda snorted. A sudden and condescending sound. "You won't be able to pay them, either," she said, going so far as to giggle behind her delicate hand.

Rosha's mouth dropped open in shock. This was too much, especially with Tjorvi's death still fresh on her mind. This woman who clearly couldn't lift anything heavier than an iron axe was successfully hounding a seasoned mercenary for coin and there was nothing she could say or do about it. If Hulda decided to take the matter to the Jarl she already knew what Balgruuf would say. There was no denying that Tjorvi died with many debts to many people. Hulda was just the first to collect, it was abundantly clear Rosha wouldn't be able to fight her way out of it.

When she recovered she pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded more calmly than she felt. She snatched up a bar stool and marched over to the bard, shoving him to the floor mid-song. He yelped suddenly before he fell, causing a few heads to turn. She loudly set down the stool where the bard previously stood and climbed on top of it, astonished that she was able to move with more grace than she normally had. She could feel the heat from the fire in the pit prickling her skin more intensely than usual, although she could easily chalk it up to the flush rising in her cheeks as more eyes settled upon her.

"Attention everyone! Please listen carefully. Eyes up here! I have a brief announcement," she shouted, raising her arms as she tried to stand as tall as she could on the stool. A sudden silence filled the room, every pair of eyes now staring at her in either shock or amusement. There were a few faces she had known her whole life, some she had only known a short while, and many she didn't know at all, but she was determined to make her point without allowing the sea of faces to put her off.

Rosha's gaze turned skyward in exasperation when she realized that they most likely thought she was far too inebriated, but at least she knew better. She hadn't had a drink in days. Anyone's opinion of her would have to be added to the growing list of things she didn't care about.

"Better Oblivion take you than a single one of you die owing Hulda any coin. She's a psychotic hagraven who will hassle your kin until she's cleaned out their pockets ten times over. I suggest taking your business to the Huntsman where you will be treated fairly and with respect. Thank you all for your time."

For extra effect she jumped off the stool and kicked it over as hard as she could, enjoying the obnoxious clattering noise of the wood as it toppled across the floor. She shot Hulda a menacing glare, a storm brewing in her cold brown eyes before stalking out of the Mare for good.

Another sudden blast of below freezing air would have been sobering, but she barely remembered making her way down the dimly lit cobbled streets. She was so lost in her anger she could hardly see. It was one thing to waste time and resources to kill a man who was already dead, but Hulda made it a thousand times worse.

And Tjorvi... she couldn't decide who she was more angry with - the debt collector or the man who incurred the debt. She threw open the door to the Huntsman, nearly breaking the hinges from the door frame at the very thought of him.

Elrindir paused mid-sweep, clutching his broom as he gave Rosha a stern look. She shot him an apologetic one in return that caused him to eventually nod and beckon her in.

She realized she needed to be more respectful seeing as Elrindir had done nothing to her and it would be his tavern she would frequent from now on. It was usually empty for the most part, but he never seemed to mind. Rosha never minded either, until now. Looking around hopelessly, she wondered for just a moment if she had made a huge mistake. Walking to the nearest table she took a seat, all the while wondering how in Oblivion she was going to find work in a barely occupied tavern.