DEAD MAN'S DRINK INN, FALKREATH, 21st of Last Seed

"Isn't she a bit too young to be your muse, Egor?" Vecheslav asked, grinning from ear to ear as the trio walked towards the tables.

Leliah blushed awfully and looked down to the ground. Egor looked at him, wide-eyed. "Are you insane? She's Serge's sister," he whispered, leaning over towards Vecheslav and hoping Leliah would not hear.

Egor led the girl to the table. "Just… sit here," he told her before turning towards Vecheslav. "Will you keep an eye on her whilst I try to find the Goldwines? They should be here any minute."

Vecheslav sat down on a chair by the end of the table, slightly turned towards Leliah, who took the place next to him. Being completely uninterested in her and anything she could say, Vecheslav began reading a news pamphlet. The man did not notice how the young girl carefully looked at him from time to time.

Vecheslav was sure that Ratibor would come to like Aurora. How silly the heir of Kvatch was not to realise what a perfect pair they would be. The Goldwines never thought grand enough, Vecheslav found. Aurora was a silly woman, but that was a different story. He could not believe how she could have turned down the High King's marriage proposal. Regardless, that opportunity was now gone, and Ratibor Goldwine would be, if not equally good, at least the next best thing.

The father of the noble brothers was a silly man, Vecheslav thought. He should have married the 29-year old bachelor away a long time ago in order to secure the succession and get a good deal for the County through the marriage. Vecheslav himself looked forward to the Solitude court – he would find a lady from a good family, perhaps an heiress. The man wished for his offspring to be of blue blood as he himself was a bastard son. He wished to have this washed away.

Vecheslav also needed a plan for taking the Anvil throne after his brother's sudden death in the Second Great War. Anvil's future did not look too bright considering the old Count and the insane heiress that was his half-sister.

"Bogdan!" Egor exclaimed and embraced the man.

The brothers had jumped out of the carriage and were now looking around. As soon as Bogdan saw his friend, he redirected his attention towards him instead, laughing and clinging to him. Ratibor smiled and hit the painter slightly over his shoulder before gesturing with his hand that they should walk into the inn.

"We've been rewriting Dreams," Ratibor said as they began to move.

Egor turned his face towards Bogdan, who was still clinging onto him. "How's your psycho story going?"

"I finished it some fortnights ago," Bogdan said, looking at his friend, smiling.

"You're bloody quick," Egor said. "Didn't you start it like... two months ago?"

Bogdan did not answer. Instead, he chuckled a little, looking down to the ground in front of him.

"This is what I love about you," Egor laughed and placed his hand around Bogdan, embracing him slightly.

They reached the stairs to the inn when Bogdan let go and Egor quickly ran up to the older brother instead. He was just about to open the door as Egor placed a hand on it, ensuring that it remained closed.

"Hey, I met with Serge's sister," Egor whispered to Ratibor.

"Serge has a sister?" the older Goldwine brother asked, wrinkling his face.

"She's the spitting image!" Egor whispered louder.

"Who's Serge?" Bogdan suddenly asked from behind.

Egor and Ratibor turned around the same second, looking at Bogdan who must have reminded them of a child who had overheard his parents speaking of something important. Ratibor and Egor must have appeared to be speaking about secrets, both the men thought.

"A performer. I directed The Buccaneer with him in one of the roles," Ratibor spoke and opened the door, pushing Egor slightly to the side.

"Why haven't I heard of him?" Bogdan asked as they entered the inn.

"Because you don't bother attending my plays," Ratibor said, turning his head towards his brother whilst walking forwards.

"Only because you desecrate my work," Bogdan hissed.

The men reached the table, by which they found a nervous young girl and a bored Vecheslav, who was reading a news pamphlet, sitting with one leg crossed over the other and leaning back in the chair. Egor walked to the opposite side of the table with the brothers following him.

"Leliah Vorna, Ratibor and Bogdan Goldwine," Egor spoke and sat down opposite Leliah.

The young girl looked wide-eyed at the brothers.

"Nice to meet you," Ratibor said and bowed his head slightly towards the girl as Vecheslav stood up. "Ah, Vecheslav!" he said and embraced his friend over the table.

Bogdan sat down in the middle, next to Egor, completely ignoring the girl. He took a nightshade stick from behind his ear, put it to his lips and bent forwards to lit it on a candle, which was placed in front of him. Egor took it from him the moment he leaned back on the bench. Looking surprised, Bogdan took a new one from his trouser pocket.

"Had a good trip?" Egor asked Ratibor, leaning back from the table in order to see the man.

The painter placed an arm on Bogdan's shoulder as he spoke to Ratibor. Bogdan looked up from the candle and made a grimace at his friend.

"A week without an inn with proper ale," Ratibor sighed.

The younger brother had successfully lit his nightshade stick and sat up straight. "I look like a troll," he said.

"Talking about the trolls..." Egor smiled and reached towards his inner pocket. "Namec released a new collection."

"Oh?" Bogdan asked.

"I have it here, look" Egor said presented a small, brown book. "I got it today, just in time."

He opened it somewhere in the middle, and Bogdan leaned in to be able to read the page. Leliah and Vecheslav sat in silence, looking at the trio on the other side of the table. Egor and Bogdan were grinning as they read.

"Who is Namec?" Vecheslav asked Ratibor after a while.

The older Goldwine brother was reading over his Bogdan's shoulder and did not take his gaze off the page. "The toothless guy," he answered shortly.

"Toothless?"

"Yes, literally. He's missing his front teeth or something," Ratibor said and quickly looked up from the book before redirecting it there again. "Never met him."

"Where's he from?" Vecheslav asked.

"Somewhere in the North," Ratibor answered with his gaze pinned to the book.

"Skyrim?"

"At the border to. I thought he was famous over in Bruma," Ratibor spoke and looked at Vecheslav with a wrinkled expression.

Apparently, Ratibor decided that it was enough reading for then and straightened up. He turned his attention to Vecheslav and placed his arms on the table in front of him.

"I've never heard of him," Vecheslav said with a wrinkled expression.

"He's popular among the young," Ratibor said as he noticed Vecheslav's ale. He gestured with his hands as if to ask if it was alright if he took it, to which Vecheslav gestured that it was. "Nothing special about him, though, except from his themes," Ratibor continued. "Bogdan has had an obsession with him since the end of the spring."

Ratibor emptied the ale and made an approving facial expression before reaching into his vest and retrieving two nightshade sticks. He offered Vecheslav one by nodding towards him.

"Hey, don't be rude," Bogdan said and twitched with his head towards Leliah.

Ratibor looked at him with his eyes half closed, then quickly at Leliah. "She's a child. She shouldn't smoke," he said and lit the two sticks he was holding against the candle.

"Let's not make assumptions," Bogdan said.

"Thank you, milord, I'm fine," Leliah smiled awkwardly.

All the men's attention was directed towards her for a split second before they fell into silence again. The atmosphere was not like any of them had expected: Vecheslav found it completely pointless bringing a youngster with them considering the fact that she would not contribute to an intelligent discussion, Egor felt somewhat responsible for her as he was the one who had offered to take her with them on their trip to Solitude, Ratibor did not know to which extent she should be engaged in their group, and Bogdan was not particularly interested in who she was and what she was doing there at all. Leliah felt the awkwardness of the situation more than anyone else, but she did not know what to say or do to make her idols and masters of art feel more at ease. Instead, she stared down at the table in front of her, hoping the situation would soon be over.

"Hey, Egor," Ratibor said and turned everyone's gazes towards him. "I heard Eupaxia's father bought three of your latest work. How do you trick him into doing so?"

Egor grinned and threw his arms out as if to say I don't know.

"Don't you think she will be rather pissed for missing her wedding to Chorrol?" Bogdan interrupted, breathing out the smoke whilst simultaneously turning his head slightly in order to avoid breathing out on either Egor or Leliah.

"Oh, damn!" Ratibor exclaimed. "The wedding!"

"Isn't that your father's job to take care of?" Vecheslav asked. "He must have sent someone to attend it."

"I think Bogdan is right. We should send her a gift at least," Ratibor said. "We'll pick something up in Solitude."

Bogdan nodded in an agreeing manner, but the conversation died out. The group sat in a difficult silence for a while. Vecheslav leaned back in his chair and bent over it, stretching. Egor threw a quick gaze at Leliah before looking down at the candle in front of the younger Goldwine brother. Ratibor raised his brows before taking Vecheslav's news pamphlet.

"I'm taking a walk," Bogdan suddenly said and got up from the table.

"It's late," Ratibor said. "Don't be long."

Bogdan walked through the door and out on the main road. The town entrance lay to his right, so he decided to go in the opposite direction, towards the lumber mill. He sighed as he realised how small Falkreath was – the main attraction of the town would be the Jarl's longhouse and the cemetery.

Bogdan rarely disliked people – he went along with poets and artists of all sorts and classes. The younger Goldwine often found common ground with the destitute as well as ordinary citizens. However, he could not stand dishonesty in all its possible shape, which made it difficult to socialise with nobles who had been brought up to follow etiquette and norms.

This was the major difference between the brothers. Ratibor felt the need to be liked by others for some reason Bogdan could not comprehend. Ratibor paid less attention to his behaviour and even relaxed when Bogdan took him to the Dockhouse, and Bogdan was convinced that that was a good thing. He did not find the idea of sleeping with prostitutes merely for the pleasure of the flesh appealing and was frustrated that his brother did, though. This was the main reason for him being such a mediocre writer, Bogdan thought. Ratibor was too focused on the pleasures of the flesh than that of the mind. The people loved his work because mediocrity cannot be spotted by mediocre minds.

Bogdan had long since given up on writing for an audience. The man wrote merely for himself and was thrown between the states of being proud and ashamed over his own ability. At times, he considered his novels to be genius, at times – nothing worth reading.

Ratibor needed him to write novels, though. The older brother loved literature and theatre, and Bogdan gave him the oxygen needed to write. Many would say that they were an excellent duo – Bogdan writing a novel and Ratibor rewriting it into a play, with a lot of help from his younger brother.

Bogdan was frustrated, but it was not as much due to Ratibor standing as the sole producer of the younger brother's work, as to the fact that he kept changing things. He did not understand that Bogdan's work was perfect the way he wrote it – in writing, he was a perfectionist and would never deliver anything half-heartedly done. Ratibor's changes were the main reason to the brothers' arguments, Bogdan thought.

The sun was setting, and the air was still warm, even though it was Last Seed. Bogdan had reached the other town entrance and decided to find himself a spot by the water, close to the lumber mill.

He had learned to know Egor about two years ago, Bogdan thought, and he was impressed by the man's work and laissez-faire character. He had found the inner balance to remain calm at all situations and not let life affect him too much. Instead, he focused on producing excellent paintings that conveyed the Nord's inner life. He never compromised on himself, painting things he was not inspired to, even though it meant that he did not make as much gold as he could have. There were members of nobility and patrons of art lining up, asking him to paint portraits or other subjects, but Egor remained uncompromising on his honour and dignity.

Bogdan liked all people who were good at their profession and did what their heart desired. That included Octavia, Ratibor's favourite prostitute. He considered her a friend merely for this attitude towards her work. Ratibor liked her too, Bogdan knew that, but stubborn as he was, nothing could ever happen between them. Ratibor did not have the guts to oppose father, even though he tried to convey the opposite to Bogdan. The elder brother was almost arrogantly self confident, trying to show Bogdan that he could do whatever he wanted. This was also something that frustrated him, for he knew that one day, father would ask for something too great, and that Ratibor would not hesitate to obey. He had a nagging feeling that this was the reason for their father allowing Ratibor to go to Solitude. He was approaching 30 and still had no children.

Bogdan found Vecheslav interesting, but too vain and having too many complexes about his background, which annoyed Bogdan greatly. His poetry was decent, though – even the younger Goldwine brother agreed with that.

Bogdan did not like the town at all. It felt as if something magical and bad had occurred there. Skyrim felt cold and unfriendly, even though it was a warm evening. He sat down by the water, leaning against a rock and looking at the water. The sunset was reflecting in it, almost blinding the man.

Even though the climate in Bruma was colder, Skyrim still felt… icier. The people of the cultural capital were lively, energetic and open whilst he could barely see anyone in Falkreath at all. It was as if most of its population belonged in its famous cemetery.

Bogdan was, if not anxious, at least annoyed about the fact that Solitude probably was as cold as Falkreath. Cold and empty. He felt that he should have moved to Bruma instead of following his brother. Then he could learn to know Vadic Bodouof – he would gladly attend his theatre, and Namec… Bogdan took his small notebook from his right trouser pocket and opened it. With cursive letters, the first page read:

The poor beast is cold in winter

The ice hurts like splinter

The poor beast – hauls to the wolves

Let me enter your house

I am not louse

I will sit in a warm corner

I will eat meat and drink tea

For this I will give to you

The night sky and all its stars

Everything that chars

All the rocks, all Gildergreen

Everything that can sharpen one's teeth

Bogdan was annoyed with his inability to produce anything that could match Vecheslav or Namec. He felt like he had to write novels simply because he was a lousy poet and mediocrity could not be tolerated in art. It was difficult for him to rewrite his novels into plays, for he poured his soul into every last letter of his books – they were complete when he thought them to be, and that was when he turned that chapter over. It was frustrating to work through it once again, especially since the fights with Ratibor over how it should be done took so much energy.

The man gave up and closed his book. It made him almost sick to be reading his worthless poetry. He reached for a small container, which was placed in his left trouser pocket and retrieved the void salts. He placed a small pile on his right hand and snorted it into his right nostril, holding his other hand's index finger over the left. Just as he began to screw the cork back on the container, he changed his mind and took another portion, from which he blanked out.