BRUMA, CYRODIIL, 7th of Last Seed

The girl took a sip of the ale. She had never learnt to appreciate the drink and frowned as she swallowed the bitter liquid. The youngster thought that she should indeed have ordered tea instead, even though it was an unusually warm day. Bruma was a fantastic town, but its location made it almost impossible to have fresh, clean water.

It did not trouble her the slightest to be leaving it, though. Her brother had spoken so warmly of Skyrim that she was convinced she would be happy there, regardless of the troubles that might arise at first. What did made her concerned was how she would get to Solitude, as it was a long way from Bruma. Serge was still in the south and wrote that they would meet up in northern Skyrim, which meant that he made no plans concerning her relocation.

The girl was not angry with him, yet she felt that he could be a bit more supportive. Her former boss had been far more helpful than her brother in this matter.

The door opened and a man entered the inn, making the girl's heart jump. She observed him for a moment to ensure that it was truly him, and as she concluded that this was the case, she awaited the moment he was done speaking to the innkeeper.

She had never met him before, however, she had seen a drawing of him in Vadic's office at the theatre. The girl was certain it was him – the man had the same sculptured, manly face with narrow lips, a sharp, but wide nose, low brows and unusually wide, grey-green eyes as the man on the portrait. The shadow underneath them made the eyes appear rounder then they truly were, and his forehead was a bit short of a third of the length of the face. The man's bangs were six or seven inches long, with the rest of the bright hair being shorter. He was neither blond nor brown haired, but somewhere in between.

He wore tight, black leather trousers, short boots of the same colour and a dark blue vest without anything underneath. This exposed his wide shoulders and rather muscular arms, one of which had a black lizard permanently tattooed onto it.

The man paid for his visit and asked the innkeeper to send a boy to move the painter's things from his carriage into the room. This was when the girl rose to her feet and walked up to the man by the bar.

"Egor!" she said. "My name is Leliah."

She looked at him closely for a few seconds, and before he had time to express his surprise, she added: "I'm travelling to Solitude to work."

The man laughed a little, smiling with his eyes. "Aren't we all?" he asked and looked at her with his characteristic spark. "May I just ask… how old are you?"

Leliah blushed and found it difficult to maintain eye contact. "Fourteen," she answered. "May I do a quick interview?" the girl added hastily. "You see, I hope to find work at a copying or pamphlet house, and perhaps I could use a personal portrait of you as work sample?"

The man looked at her for a while, leaning with one arm against the bar. It was late, and Egor was probably a rather busy man, yet Leliah wholeheartedly hoped that he would find time to help her. She looked at him with a pleading expression, hoping that her young age would push him to accept.

He looked around his shoulder before sighing and bringing his hands together. "Alright then."

He looked at the innkeeper and ordered an ale before holding his hands out, urging Leliah to go first. She smiled quickly and hurried back to her table with the painter following her. Leliah sat down and placed her hands together in front of her at the table. Egor looked at her for a moment, smiled, shook his head whilst grinning and sat down. Leliah felt like she had won a small victory bringing him to the table.

"Can you tell me about your life, in general terms?" she asked.

The man lowered his head slightly but retained eye contact. He looked incredibly charming, Leliah thought. His body language was that of an extremely popular young man – confident yet open and friendly. This was the type of man who got along with men equally good as with women, Leliah thought.

"I've been lucky," Egor began and drank some ale before placing it back on the table. "I grew up outside of Bruma. Used to draw on houses with charcoal, and one day, an old painter saw me. I thought I'd get into so much trouble," he laughed and looked at her.

He had a glimpse in his eyes – a very living spark that gave energy to his surroundings. The more time she spent with him, the more did she like the man. She found his voice very living and harmonic even though he sometimes produced rather nasal sounds. He used a wide range of intonations, yet it appeared smooth, and made the words flow together almost as if he was singing.

"Did you?" Leliah grinned.

Egor spread his hands to the side and made a funny grimace. "No," he said as if it was obvious, before laughing again. "No," he continued and swallowed another sip. "He took me in and taught me. At first, I helped him prepare the colours, then I began painting myself. He arranged orders to me."

"So how did you end up in the Imperial City?" she asked.

"He died when I was sixteen," Egor said.

"I'm sorry."

Egor twitched his shoulders but did indeed look upset. "I spent all my gold in the move. Lived in the rough areas, by the docks," he said. "There's this four story communal house there," the man began but interrupted himself. "Either way, I got orders in the Imperial City too."

"Congratulations," she said.

Egor twitched his shoulders again but looked away this time. He turned his face slightly downwards in profile. Leliah noticed that his nose was rather substantial, regardless of its concave shape. This did not ruin his looks, though, even though Leliah understood that he would be considered as attractive regardless of his looks simply due to his natural charm and confident body language.

"Perhaps you know my brother – Serge Vorna," Leliah said as she felt that the man was not really feeling like being talkative.

"I knew you looked familiar!" he laughed. "Of course, he's a friend of mine."

Leliah smiled. "And the Goldwines?" she asked.

Egor thought for a while. "I've been familiar with Ratibor for almost five years, but it's Bogdan I'm friends with," the man stated in a more natural tone. "He often hung out with us painters."

The girl nodded. "You know everyone," she said, chuckling.

She said this not as much due to her knowing much about his circle of friends, but due to the fact that he was the type of personality many people enjoyed being with. He could easily have charmed his way into a Baron's household by marrying a rich heiress, Leliah thought.

"I don't," he smiled as if he tried to excuse himself, even though it became evident that he was simply being humble. "I've been lucky, though. I have people who buy my paintings."

The man looked at Leliah, and before she had time to open her mouth, he continued: "Where is Serge nowadays?" he asked.

"He's moving to Solitude too," she smiled. "He's been in Leyawiin for the past months."

Egor leaned closer as if he was impressed. "Are you… supporting yourself?"

Leliah looked down, feeling awkward about the fact that she was being admired for something that was not truly an accomplishment. "I am."

"At fourteen?" he asked and squinted his eyes. "That's pretty damn good for a fourteen-year old," he stated neutrally and leaned back. "And slightly depressing," he sighed before getting up. "I'll get this," the man said and looked at the drinks. "It's late, so I'm going…" he spoke and bent his right arm, pointing left, towards the rooms. "Good night."

The man turned around and took a few steps towards his room.

"Master Egor!" Leliah exclaimed before he had the time to walk too far away.

He turned around, looking at her with his eyes wide open, reminding her of a boy who had been busted by his mother being up late at night.

"May I ask how old you are?" she smiled. "For the portrait."

Egor grinned. "I'm twenty one."

ROAD BETWEEN THE IMPERIAL CITY AND BRUMA, close to Aleswell

"Stop that," Ratibor hissed at his brother. "You know we had to move."

Bogdan looked at the man with confusion, not understanding what he was being accused of. "Stop what?"

"You are silently bashing me for taking you to Solitude."

Bogdan looked at him with pure astonishment. It was not at all what he had on his mind, and it surprised him that Ratibor could interpret his mood so erroneously.

"I'm telling you again – father had sent a new spy after us, and this one, we won't be able to bribe like Deviano. Do you want him to find out what we've been up to for the past seven years?" Ratibor asked. "It was hard enough to convince father that your studies are taking a bit longer than anticipated..."

"I'm not angry with you!" Bogdan hissed.

Bogdan was upset about the fact that his own brother misjudged the situation, but then realised that his frustrated tone did not play in his favour. "I know," he continued. "But it's you I'm worried for."

Ratibor wrinkled his face. "What do you mean?"

Bogdan had hoped to change the subject and had panicked. Now he felt obliged to inform Ratibor about something that had been bothering him ever since finding out that they were moving. This was something he had not thought through properly.

"The more I think of it, the odder it becomes," he said, looking out through the window.

"What?" Ratibor asked.

Bogdan looked at a particularly interesting birch that they passed.

"That father would allow you to go to Solitude. It must come across as rather offensive towards the Emperor considering he just lost a war against Skyrim," he answered.

Ratibor looked at him with his dark, hooded, yet wide eyes. "Come on," he said. "You know father trusts me."

"It still does not make sense that he'd let you go to Solitude," Bogdan said. "Can't you see how this all looks in the Emperor's eyes? I'm telling you – there must be some kind of catch."

"Bogdan, it's you he doesn't trust, and rightfully so."

Ratibor crossed his arms and looked out through the window. Bogdan turned his gaze towards his brother.

His wavy, black hair had grown long. It now reached way past his shoulders and caressed his cheeks. As opposed to Vecheslav, Ratibor never tied it at the back of his head with a band – something that made him look more like a rebel and less of a young nobleman.

"Oh yes? You think he'd appreciate his heir putting up plays, do you? Like some kind of… jester?" Bogdan grinned.

Ratibor quickly turned his gaze at Bogdan. "Pretty strong to be coming from someone who went to the Imperial City to study and dropped out half a year later, only to do nothing for seven years!"

"Hey!" Bogdan said. "Nothing is better in father's eyes than what I was up to when living in Kvatch. It's an obvious improvement," he stated proudly. "You, on the other hand…" Bogdan grinned.

Ratibor began to laugh and threw a hat at his brother.

"Imagine father's discussions with Cyril if he knew!" Bogdan said, protecting himself from the hat attack by lifting his arms.

Ratibor remembered the old steward and smiled.

"Milord's heir is taking substances and fornicating with prostitutes!" Bogdan said in a high pitched voice that by no means resembled the steward's. "And he still hasn't chosen himself a bride!"

"And milord's younger son… he has taken up reading… poetry at some godsforgotten rat hole! What a shame, what a terrible shame!" Ratibor interrupted him. "I should cut him off his allowance!" He said, parodying his father.

"No!" Bogdan yelled. "Then people will think that we are…" he said, as if he was preparing to utter the most harrowing word on Nirn. "Poor!" he spitted.

Ratibor bent his neck backwards in laughter whilst Bogdan observed him.

Ratibor was a man of his word and very likable. His governors were proud of him, and his nannies adored the little boy. Growing up as heir, he had received a lot of attention, making him aware that he was always being observed. He had never enjoyed this, but was forced to learn at a young age to say what his elders wished to hear and at least pretend to do what they wished to see.

He studied and did well in mathematics, philosophy, geography and literature, but military strategy had never been his strong side. As a child, he hated the subject, but after his father sat him down as a seven year-old and informed him of his duties as heir, the boy did everything in his power to exceed in that subject, even though it meant hours of relentless work and studying well into the night.

He learned what was expected of him to study and gentlemen always found him polite and interesting to speak to. The father was immensely proud of his son for this, especially when he noticed that he also was confident and amusing towards the ladies.

Since his eldest son had never disappointed him twice for the same matter, nor done anything he knew was wrong, the father trusted Ratibor. As this trust was well deserved, the father also loved his son, for he was a man who drew parallels between obedience and love.

Ratibor was not as obedient as he gave the impression of being, though. His father did not know of his frequent visits to places like the Dockhouse, nor that he considered eccentric and indecent artists to be his friends. He did not know of Ratibor's substance abuse, which unfortunately had turned into an addiction upon Oskander's death. Ratibor understood that by having his father's trust, he could push his father's decisions to favour him, and that a criterion for this was that the eldest Goldwine alive only knew and heard of Ratibor's public self.

His brother was less tactic. Ratibor knew that his father, being an old-fashioned man when it came to everything except himself, did not tolerate misconduct. Bogdan was never good at concealing his inner thoughts, and therefore often discredited the family's name. He was too self absorbed, Ratibor thought, and if he would just lift his gaze a little, he too would see how easy it was to manoeuvre around the father.

It was not a question of love, as Bogdan thought. It was a question of presenting to society and their father what they wished to see. The father had not been capable of loving after his wife's death. However, Ratibor never thought of how different life could have been, if the birth of Bogdan had not caused the death of their mother. He grieved her, but was able to take his distance to dreams and keep his feet firmly on the ground.

This was needed of him, for even though he allowed himself some indecencies, he knew which part he was to play in his own and Kvatch's life. He drew parallels between his and his town's history and was prepared for the responsibility of a Count.

"Bruma!" Ratibor suddenly exclaimed as the town became visible through the window. "Do you want to have a drink?" he asked.

Bogdan did not look at him directly, but at the his brother's reflection in the window. "No," he replied.

Bogdan did not appear to be interested in the outer world, even though he had not traveled that road before. Ratibor realised that his brother probably was thinking about Kalliope, a woman he was infatuated with. Ratibor dismissed these emotions as childish and naïve. The woman was beautiful, no one could deny that, but she was married to Hercule, the man who Ratibor had a lot to thank for. Ratibor did not know of his brother's intentions, but knew and felt relieved about the fact that he had far stricter morals than himself. Bogdan was not the man that would promote affairs, and hopefully, Ratibor thought, he would not engage in them either, not because Ratibor saw a problem with them, but rather because he definitely saw a problem with Bogdan having a relationship with the dancer.

The older Goldwine brother was never particularly fond of Kalliope. Ever since he first met her at her husband's theatre ten years ago, he had considered her to be slightly odd and too dreamy. She was beautiful, but insane, Ratibor thought.

Inside him, there was a nagging feeling that something was very wrong with his brother, though. Even though he had begun recovering from the shock of Oskander's death – he had, after all, taking up writing again, he still drank too much to deafen the pain.

Ratibor turned around and hit the wall of the carriage. "Stop!" he ordered.

Bogdan quickly gazed on him before looking through the window again.

"Come," Ratibor said enthusiastically. "Let's have some fresh air."

"I don't want to," Bogdan said.

"No, come," the older brother urged.

Ratibor leaned forwards and opened the door, pulling his brother out with him. Bogdan reached for a nightshade stick and barely had time to lit it on the lantern before finding himself dragged outside.

They had begun their ascent of the long hill leading to Bruma. In the far distance, they saw the wall of the northern town, and in the opposite direction was the Imperial City. A breathtaking view unfolded in front of them. The White Tower looked as if it touched the clouds, and the wall of the city was reflected in the still waters of lake Rumare. Ratibor could not help but to consider himself at peace in that very moment. He remembered the first time he had arrived there – it must have been ten years ago. It had been raining, and the roads had been cluttered with mud, making the last part of the trip take considerably longer than planned. The man remembered crossing the bridge in darkness, with the sound of the rain against the roof of the carriage. As he had approached the gate, it appeared so high and impossible to penetrate. The same gate was now the door to his home, which he was leaving behind.

"It's beautiful," Ratibor sighed.

Bogdan looked at the scenery in silence.

"Remember when you first came there?" Ratibor asked. "You were so excited about moving and beginning your studies that you brought the entire collection of The History of Tamriel with you. My Gods! It weighed a ton," the man laughed and looked at his brother.

"You almost fell out of the carriage when Oskander and I met you outside of the apartment building."

Bogdan's gaze remained pinned at the city. He slowly took the smoking stick to his lips and inhaled. "I was drunk."

"It's the right thing to do, though," Ratibor said, changing the subject. "Moving."

"Well, everyone else is going," Bogdan said, looking at the horizon.

"Exactly," Ratibor said as if he was looking for confirmation. "Just so you know – our official story is that I am going to promote a new trade deal where we will deliver food and Solitude will give us fur and metal. Solitude is growing into a trade hub and we will be the first ones to take advantage of it. That's what I told father."

"Why Solitude?" Bogdan suddenly asked with a wrinkled expression. "Why not Windhelm – at least the High King lives there. Solitude is but a regional power hub."

Bogdan blew the smoke out of his mouth and still looked out at the city. Ratibor turned his gaze towards his younger brother. He understood that Bogdan was smart, even tough he despised politics and did everything in his power to present himself as if he knew nothing of it. Ratibor had not expected Bogdan to question his decision, but had prepared an answer regardless.

"We are not after influencing the High King. There is no point for us. We're going to Solitude for it's trade," Ratibor explained.

Bogdan nodded. "And my role is?"

"Oh, I'm looking for a decent marriage for you," Ratibor grinned.

"I don't think father would believe that," Bogdan chuckled.

"Father hasn't seen you in seven years. All he knows is that you recently finished your studies and are well behaved. You could be Saint Alessia for all he knows."

"So you are going to marry me off?"

"That's the story."

Bogdan inhaled calmly. "Did father buy that story?"

"Well, most of this is true. I am going to work on the trade deal."

"I thought we were staying for longer."

"What do you mean?" Ratibor asked.

"How long could it take – half a year?"

"Oh, I'll come up with something new after that."

Bogdan quickly looked at his brother with a stern expression. "Aren't you tired with constantly coming up with new lies?"

"I do what is needed to protect our interests."

"Whose?" Bogdan exclaimed.

"Mine and yours."

"How…" Bogdan began but changed his mind. He understood that there was no way he could convince his brother to change his position. "What are your interests?"

Ratibor looked at him. "I want to live in a city with people I am fond of whilst performing my duties. Solitude is the second best option after the Imperial City, but as you know, our bridges there are burnt, unless we wish father to find out about you dropping out of university, your reputation and my… hobbies. His new spy would find out everything."

"Oh, and it will be so much better in Solitude…" Bogdan answered sarcastically.

"We will be more discrete," Ratibor smiled.

"You can talk for yourself."

"Hey, do you wish to be able to pay for your lifestyle?" he asked in a teasing, but kind tone. "Right now, you do nothing productive, yet you are given gold to pay for your substances, alcohol and parchment."

Bogdan shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I will have to find a job."

Ratibor laughed. "You'd have to sober up first."

"It sounds horrible."

Bogdan's last sentence was expressed with so much emotion that Ratibor had to bend double in laughter. He clung to his brother and messed up his hair.