Chapter 3

"I'm starting to wish my papa didn't make you that!"

Sigtrygg turned around from the edge of the pond. M'Krinna was covering her mouth as she giggled. When she finished, she scooped up a handful of dirt in her paw and scattered into the water. The spray disrupted the young Nord's reflection in the war. Frowning, he turned around and smoothed out the gray sash across his shirt. Raising his chin, he began marching away. His friend walked alongside, her bare bottom paws padding at the cobblestone. She snickered some more. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Knights don't have feelings! Nothing bothers a knight!" Sigtrygg declared. M'Krinna sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You're not a knight."

"But I will be!"

"Poor people can't become knights."

But Sigtrygg was undeterred. Wearing a wide, satisfied smile, he marched through the streets with his hands curled into fists. If he was going to become a knight one day he was going to have to start acting like one. He was on the lookout for any more children who were in trouble or older kids who were planning to harass them. In the middle of a working day, most of the younger children were not on the streets. Those who lived in shadier parts of Leyawiin remained at home while others worked in their parents' businesses and shops. Sigtrygg himself was on his afternoon break which was hit or miss when it came to socializing. Sometimes, kids would swarm the parks or streets, having finished their midday meals. On other occasions, meals ran long or family businesses were busy, so nobody was able to have a break.

Those who did venture on the streets that day were embroiled in their own games of tag or make belief. Nobody seemed to notice Sigtrygg or his brand new sash. A week after having received it and not a single person he knew commented on it. Although he was disappointed, he wasn't going to show it or tell M'Krinna. She teased him enough already, although she was never mean about it.

She skipped alongside him. Naturally agile, she was able to hop and land with both feet on one slim cobblestone. It was a game she liked to play with herself. Sigtrygg liked to watch her when she did; her tail would sweep back and forth excitedly and she would grin in a very silly way. A few times he tried it himself but he wasn't that good on account of his bigger feet and lack of gracefulness.

"We should play our own game."

"Can I guess what you want to play?" M'Krinna asked. She pranced in front of him, walking backwards with her hands folded behind her back. "You want to play a game where you're a knight who has to slay a dragon to save a beautiful maiden!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

She was exactly right and he was too embarrassed to admit it. M'Krinna shrugged and kept walking backwards.

"We don't have anyone to be the dragon, anyways."

As the pair rounded a corner which led the straightaway between the placa and the docks, they were forced to stop. A larger company of Leyawiin guards, men-at-arms, mercenaries, and a few knights were moving in a column towards the docks. While not in formation and marching in step, their heavy boots and armor made a particular machine-like noise. All the guards carried a sword, shield, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. Knights each carried a longsword or greatsword, along with a spear each. Some wore golden gilded chainmail that glowed in the sunlight. Others were clad in heavy, cumbersome looking plate mail. White surcoats with the Leyawiin coat of arms on it denoted their membership of the local lodge, the Knights of the White Stallion. But the mercenaries looked roguish and not two were dressed alike. Some wore chainmail or scale armor, while others were clad in furs and leathers. Unlike the knights and guards, who were mostly Imperials, the mercenaries hailed from every country. Most prevalent in their midst were Khajiit and Argonians. Many wielded shortswords, multiple daggers, maces, simple clubs, bows, arrows, sabers, spears, halberds, and axes.

It was easy to divide the experienced from the inexperienced. Veteran mercenaries were better equipped both in arms and armor, bore more scars, were older, and looked weathered. Newcomers were always younger, their equipment was cheap, and they looked eager and fresh.

Sigtrygg and M'Krinna watched, waited until they passed, and then fell in behind them. The hundred or so troops gathered on the docks but did not tread onto the piers. All the workers stood on the periphery, staying out of the way and watching with varying degrees of interest. Somebody began speaking but the two children were unable to see who it was.

Looking around, they tried to find a vantage point. On the left side of the assembly were a few stacks of wooden shipping crates. Together, they found the lowest one, clambered up, and began ascending the pile as if they were stairs. At the top, Sigtrygg sat down with his legs over the edge. The perch was higher than two average men stacked on top of the other. M'Krinna stood and rested her arms on top of the Nord's head. Both were surprised to see the Count of Leyawiin, Massimo Caro II, standing in front of the host. He was clad in burgundy robes with golden trimming. Around his neck was a silver chain with a round pendant. Embedded in the center of the pendant was refined, polished ruby.

He was an impressive Imperial despite his short stature. A mane of black hair cascaded down to his shoulders and he had a handsome face with an elegant nose, thin lips, and strong cheeks. In his day, he was a warrior of an impressive build, a member of the Whtie Stallions, and a patron of Zenithar. Now, he was middle-aged, somewhat pudgy in his stomach, but still strong in his chest. A sword hung from the belt he wore.

"...the Count of Bravil has requested the aid of stalwart Leyawiin warriors. We are pledged to respond to his call. I know some may have reservations about fighting in another land other than our own but lest we forget, the overflow of chaos from gang warfare threatens Leyawiin also. If we can stand our ground in Bravil then we can prevent the violence from entering our sacred city."

He scrutinized the war host for a long, impressive moment. "Some of you are here by choice. Others, by duty. And there are those among you who are in it for nothing but the coin. Whatever your reason for embarking on this endeavor, I care not, so long as all do their duty."

With a wave of his hand, the gangplank was lowered. The ship was not one of the fat merchant vessels or one of the swift coastal traders. Instead, it was one of the lower, longer, warships. On the bow there were two archery towers and on the stern was a capulet on a rotating cylinder. In the center was the raised bridge and accompanying superstructure, looking more like a cabin than a part of a ship. The host of soldiers boarded the vessel, their booted feet thudding on the wooden gangplank. Some went below, disappearing into the bowels of the ship. Others simply threw their packs down on the deck and prepared for the voyage upriver. Finally, the dock workers began laboring across the planks and deposited stores of cargo inside the ship.

Eventually, amid rattling chains and barking commands, the anchors were weighed, the ship shoved off, and began trundling upriver. All the soldiers either looked northward or busied themselves with some other detail. But one of the knights approached the railing. Squinting to make out his face, Sigtrygg's eyes widened as he realized it was the knight from the previous week. The man's smile was visible even from this distance. At first, he leaned on the gunwale while the ship slowly pushed away from the dock. Once the current and the wind caught it, he stood up straight and lifted his hand. Sigtrygg did the same, waving with his right.

Sigtrygg and M'Krinna watched until it became a dot in the distance and eventually winked away. By that time, the dock workers returned to their shore work and the Count returned to Castle Leyawiin with his retinue. But the pair remained, gazing northwards up the river. Sunlight glittered on the blue water and the current was very strong. Its babbling and rippling was very loud and pleasant to the ears.

M'Krinna bent over Sigtrygg and peered into his eyes. Sigtrygg didn't notice her at first.

"Tell me about the Great Chapel of Mara again," she asked. Coming around on his left, she adjusted her plain brown skirt and sat down so her legs dangled over the side like his. Sitting shoulder to shoulder and swinging their feet, they gazed south out to Niben Bay.

"It was the most beautiful place ever," Sigtrygg said, "all the columns were big and tall, the pews were all oak and polished. When it was sunny, the window panes gave off thousands and thousands of colors. And it was quiet, very quiet, not like here."

"Can you take me to Bravil one day?" M'Krinna asked.

"Just Bravil?" Sigtrygg asked, smiling. M'Krinna smiled back shyly and looked down at her feet. For a time, they stayed that way, not looking at each other but at the forest on the other side of the river or the water itself. Eventually, Sigtrygg sighed and decided to climb down. He was gone from the shop long enough and he knew his parents needed his help. M'Krinna joined him and together they walked slowly down the road. This time, the young Nord didn't march like a knight or hold his head up. "Do you really think poor people can't become knights?"

"This one's papa says knights aren't raised, they're born."

Sigtrygg released a long breath, deflating further. His head hung and his shoulders sagged. Looking down at his feet, he didn't notice his friend's concerned gaze. But he nearly fell over when she giggled and gave him a big hug. It was awkward to walk with her arms around him but they struggled on like that for a little while. He looked down at M'Krinna whose nose was almost against his own. She was smiling happily. "You don't have to be a knight to go to Bravil!"

"Right now you do," Sigtrygg muttered. Adults passed by, some of them gazing at them curiously. At first, the Nord was embarrassed to have so many eyes on him. But M'Krinna didn't seem to mind so he tried his best not to either. Eventually, she let go partially but kept one arm around his.

"Well, you're a knight, aren't you?" she asked, tugging on the sash. Sigtrygg, still dejected, shrugged.

"Knights need a sword, and a horse, and armor, and a maiden, and a—"

"Well, what am I!?" she whined.

"Poor girls can't be maidens!" Sigtrygg teased. M'Krinna gasped, let go, then playfully hit him on the back. When she tried to land another blow, Sigtrygg dodged it and began running back to his parents' shop. His friend was right behind him, pretending to roar and hiss like a mountain line. Laughing, the young Nord did his best to escape, weaving between adults and bounding around corners. As fast as he was for his size, M'Krinna was much faster.

Eventually, she pounced on his back and the impact made him land on his stomach. Thankfully, it was on the plaza cobblestone which remained clean on account of the Count's efforts to increase sanitation throughout the city. Lying on his stomach, Sigtrygg laughed as M'Krinna pretended to bite his neck. She hadn't bared her teeth but made loud chomping sounds near his neck. Her pretend snarls were more like snuffles and that made him laugh so hard he began running out of breath.

Biding his time, he bucked up and M'Krinna fell off. Sigtrygg was tall and strong for his age, so he was able to pick her up easily. She squealed as he spun around, holding her at the waist. Then, he threw her over his shoulder and she pounded her fists on his back.

"You're a big brute!" she squealed happily. Sigtrygg spun around, trying to make her dizzy. On the third rotation, something heavy and metal hit his chest. Then, M'Krinna's weight was plucked off his shoulder. An armored hand clutched the collar of his roughspun tunic, picked him up off his feet, and pressed him against the wall. A Leyawiin city guard with dark bags under his eyes and stubble on his cheeks. The middle-aged Imperial seemed like he just got out of bed.

"And what do you think you're doing harassing the little cat?" he growled.

"He's not hurting me, we're playing!" M'Krinna insisted, tugging on the guard's surcoat. But the guard continued to glare at Sigtrygg.

"I know what I saw," he said. "You best cough something up or else I'll take you to the captain."

"Let go of my friend!" M'Krinna shouted and began beating on the guard's leg. None of the hits seemed to have an impact. Sigtrygg blinked, unsure of what to say or do. The guard continued to gaze into his eyes, a sinister smile spreading across his face. Nothing came to mind and he began to breathe rapidly, panicked. Eventually, M'Krinna stopped hitting the guard, growled, bared her teeth, grabbed his thigh and went to bite him.

"I've got silver!" Sigtrygg said. The guard dropped him and M'Krinna stopped halfway, kneeling beside the young Nord.

"Hand it over, then, and you've got my silence."

Doing his best not to look daunted, Sigtrygg stood up with M'Krinna and dug into his pocket. He held up the silver Septim and the guard snatched it out of his hand. After inspecting for a moment, he winked at him. "There's a good, lad. Don't make no trouble anymore."

Stuffing it into a satchel, the guard marched off down the road. Sigtrygg sighed and sat down on the curb. But M'Krinna's paws were curled into tiny fists and she shook even as she stood in the road. Eventually, she released a little hiss and stamped her foot.

"I should have bitten him!"

"You would've gotten in trouble," Sigtrygg said, propping his elbow on his knee and holding his chin.

"I know but still!" M'Krinna stamped her other foot, picked up a rock, and tossed it as far as she could down the road. Huffing and puffing, she sat down beside Sigtrygg. "I hate this place! People always pick on us! Kids and adults. If we were wealthy we wouldn't have to put up with it."

"Who would want to be wealthy in Leyawiin, Krinny?" Sigtrygg asked with a sigh. "It's the same old place with its smells and sewage and bad people. If we lived somewhere else, then we wouldn't have to put up with any of it."

"We should stowaway on a boat," M'Krinna said, holding her cheeks and leaning forward on her knees.

"I would not...hmmm...recommend that."

Has-Many-Horns approached, his wooden tool box in his right hand. His green-scales shimmered in the warm sunlight. He was smiling down at them, flashing his many, thin teeth. "This one has traveled by ship both passenger and...hmm...cargo, let us say. Both are undesirable, the first less so."

He set his toolbox down and knelt in front of the two children. His expression was sympathetic. "Come with me, Ve hatchling. Your parents have need of you."

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