Argis had been modestly sipping his mead at the Silver-Blood Inn, eyeing a pretty brunette from across the room, when the courier walked in and handed him a summons. He recognized the stamp on the outside of the note. Years earlier in the guard he had received many assignments under the same insignia. Now as a seasoned veteran, and trainer of new recruits, he could not remember the last time he held a letter from Jarl Igmund.
He took another long gulp of his mead, unrolling the note. His new assignment, it seemed, was Vlindrel Hall. His eyes narrowed at the words, housecarl. Argis had spent his entire life taking orders, he was used to it – thrived on it, in fact, as he appreciated the structure. But taking orders from some nobleman who happened to make enough coin to impress the Jarl and become a Thane? Argis couldn't think of a worse job. He admitted, however, now that his left eye was no good, perhaps the Jarl was simply forcing him into retirement. His mistake, Argis thought. He was still in his prime and always at the ready to kill a few dozen men. But as his eyes scanned through the letter, his eyebrow raised in intrigue. He would be the housecarl to not just any Thane, but the Dragonborn.
Argis downed the rest of his drink and sat for a minute more, giving the brunette one last look. He sighed, maybe next time. He strolled down the river, he felt cautiously optimistic about his new adventure. Word makes its way around Markarth quickly. Word of a warrior who kills dragons with a single shout, leader of the Thieves Guild in Riften, someone who escaped Cidhna Mine without being caught. Argis had always hoped to meet the Dragonborn but was now going to be working for him. It had been years since he ventured too far out of Markarth, and he definitely felt the ache from not having had a good fight in a while.
He made his way to the barracks, gathering his belongings. He didn't have much, he thought as he looked around. A simple bed – that wasn't even his own, and just a few items beyond his armor and sword. He threw it all in a pack, slung it over his shoulder, and started up the stairs to Vlindrel Hall.
Argis pushed open the large metal doors of Vlindrel Hall. It was dark and cold, but beautifully decorated. He looked around in awe, clearly his Thane did have quite a bit of coin, judging by the freshly furnished home. He smiled to himself and picked up an apple, tossing it between his hands as he explored. He passed through the dining area, into what he assumed was his room. Small, with a simple bed, not unlike what he was used to. Though for such a nice home, he was disappointed with his quarters. He was a large man and had never had as much space as he needed at night, save for a few mornings at the inn after his night time guest had left. He idly wondered what his Thane's room would look like in comparison. He knew it wasn't right to look, but Argis' curiosity got the better of him and he decided to take a peek into the master room.
It was huge, filled with nice Thane-like things, he thought. Freshly plucked snowberries, handcrafted chests, large plush animal pelts covering an even more plush bed. Argis wondered how his body would feel after just one night on that bed. No matter, he thought, at least his own bed was not stone. Plus, his Thane was the dragonborn. A man who did such deeds clearly deserved the extra comfort.
Argis took a bite of his apple and decided to get the fires roaring, hoping to warm the old stone. He worked quickly, having had much practice out in the field. Once the fires were flickering nicely, he wandered about the hall, taking a look at the alchemy lab and enchanting room. He found a shelf, out of the way to store his old books. He loved reading, but only owned a few. They were old stories of fiction, picked up long ago on his many journeys, one or two plucked from the bodies of fallen enemies. Though rereading them still gave him as much pleasure as the first time.
Argis was a simple man. Though fairly quick witted, and experienced in battle, he was not hard to please. He was born and raised in a small village, before it was overrun by Forsworn. A young man at the time, he had only picked up a sword a time or two, not quite old enough to be taught the ways of swordsmanship. It was heavy in his hands. He barely fought his way out. If it weren't for his naturally large and muscular stature, he knew he would have perished like the rest of his friends and family. When he finally stopped running, he had made it all the way to Markarth. Garalth, a friendly older man who worked the stables at the time had found him bruised, covered in blood and dirt, huddled in the corner of the horse barn. He had helped him, let him wash up and filled his belly with hot food, then introduced him to the captain of the guard. It was then that he swore his allegiance and had been fighting Forsworn and enemies of the Reach ever since.
Being in the guard had instilled certain values into him. Argis liked structure, he admired courage, he felt the most useful with a sword in his hand and the orders to kill enemies. It was because of this, and his impressive size, that he was named The Bulwark. His comrades always knew he would be unphased in the face of danger, unrelenting towards their enemies. And for this reason, he thought, he was likely selected to be the housecarl for the Dragonborn.
As the day passed, Argis grew restless. The Dragonborn should be here any moment, he thought as he attempted to find things to do. He was anxious to meet his new Thane. He wanted to prove himself useful. He knew it had to be a few hours past nightfall when he started dinner, dicing up potatoes, carrots, and rabbit meat. As he stirred chopped vegetables into a pot of broth, he finally heard the doors creak open. He stood up and straightened his armor, standing at attention. The Dragonborn approached him, heavy armor creaking against the old stone floor. His presence commanded attention, though he was shorter than Argis expected.
The Dragonborn wore heavy armor, and had on a helmet resembling a daedric prince, but he couldn't remember which one. Armor befitting of a dragon slayer, Argis admired, suddenly conscious of his own leather armor.
"Honor to you, my thane." He said respectfully.
He heard a sudden laugh come from under the mask. The dragonborn lifted the masque, releasing long blonde locks which fell around their shoulders.
"Thane? Please, call me Rhea. Rhea Valoria." The dragon born smiled before him. It was then that Argis realized…
"The Dragonborn is a woman?"