Loredas, 27th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

The morning passed uneventfully; it was Loredas, which in the palace meant a late start. Everything stopped on Loredas morning for the day's namesake: bathing. During the morning hours, the Jarl received no one. Then, after a brief midday meal, court would resume in the early afternoon, often quite busily. If nothing else, Yngve could usually count on everyone being too busy on Loredas afternoons to notice anything he was up to.

Unfortunately, Yngve found that trying to wash his entire body, with only his off hand, while keeping his bandages completely dry, turned out to be significantly more difficult than he had anticipated. Still, he absolutely refused to ask anyone for help with this task. If he did, whoever it was would have to see him naked. He wasn't about to willingly submit to that.

Since Yngve didn't ask for help, his plans for the day were waylaid somewhat. He had been hoping to finish bathing quickly and slip out of the palace in the morning, escaping even the mere possibility of his father's notice. Instead, by the time he was fully bathed, dressed, and fed, it was early afternoon. Still, despite his worries, Yngve was able to escape the notice of not only his father, but also his housecarl, as he made his way outside. This, he knew, wouldn't last for very long, so he didn't waste time. He was looking for Silda, and he needed to talk to her before Tymver realized he was gone, found him, and came to listen in.

Although Silda could often be found loitering immediately outside the palace doors, today Yngve had no such luck. Over the last few days, Yngve had grown to dread walking through Valunstrad, so instead he entered the central area of the city to look around, then carried on to where else he usually encountered Silda: the market. And, surely enough, when Yngve entered the market square, he quickly found her, standing idly near the blacksmith's forge while the smith politely ignored her, allowing her to take advantage of the warmth offered by his workstation.

"A septim for your thoughts?" Yngve offered, sidling over to her.

"It's bloody cold out," Silda replied, accepting his coin. "What month are we in now?"

"It's the 27th of Hearthfire," Yngve replied.

"Why's it already so cold?" Silda grumbled.

"I couldn't say," Yngve answered. "But allow me to remedy that for you, at least for a while. Let's go to Candlehearth and I'll buy you a meal."

Silda side-eyed Yngve, with one brow raised. She was interested, but not naïve.

"What's the catch?" she asked.

"Catch?" Yngve repeated, trying to sound innocent.

"Come on, child, out with it," she insisted.

"Alright, fine," Yngve conceded. "I just wanted to ask you about something, that's all."

"About what?" Silda pressed.

"Lockpicking."

Silda paused a moment to take Yngve in. She looked him over, up and down, as if she were assessing his motive. Yngve got an eerie feeling, like she was staring into him – past his face, his eyes, his clothing, even his skin – at his very deepest thoughts.

"Alright," she finally said. "I'll let you chat me up over a hot meal."

Yngve was relieved. Without Silda's help, he didn't know what he could do about the door to Hjerim, and he hadn't even been sure that he'd be able to get her to help him. He walked her over to the tavern at a confident pace, hoping not to give her a chance to change her mind.

When they entered and sat down, Yngve told her to order anything she wanted. Silda was true to her word and told Yngve what she knew about picking locks. His questions were numerous and detailed, and no matter what she said, they seemed to keep coming. He had even brought a lock with him, along with a set of lockpicks, so she could demonstrate and he could practice. Finally, she asked the question that had been on her mind throughout the conversation.

"Not that I mind being wooed by such a fine, desirable suitor as yourself," Silda joked, "but why does the Jarl's heir have such a deep, sudden interest in opening locks he doesn't already have the keys to?"

"I, uh…" Yngve had to try to think quickly. He hadn't prepared an excuse; he didn't think he'd need one. "There's a safe in my bedroom. I lost the key," he lied.

"Mm-hmm," Silda said. "So, naturally, you come to Silda. Not to a locksmith to open the lock. Not to a blacksmith to open the safe."

"I didn't want my father to know I lost it?" Yngve tried weakly, fully aware that it wasn't going to work. He was caught in a lie, and he knew it.

"I don't mind helping you, but if I don't know exactly what it is you want to do, there's only so much help I can give you," Silda explained. "And anyway, if you're planning on doing anything, uh… legally questionable… as lockpickers often are, I do need to know," she added.

"…So you can turn me in?" Yngve asked glumly.

"Divines, no, child!" Silda exclaimed. "Come, now, what sort of person do you think I am?"

Yngve stammered, but couldn't land on an answer. Of all the people in the city, Silda was probably the least likely to rat him out to anyone for anything. She'd have nothing to gain by it.

"So," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "What is it that you suddenly need to know how to unlock?"

"Okay, I'll tell you," Yngve gave in. "Do you know the unoccupied house in Valunstrad? The one that belonged to Friga Shatter-Shield?"

"Uh, not exactly," Silda said. "But maybe you can point it out to me. Now, why do you need to get into there?"

"To investigate her murder," Yngve said, trying to sound calm and casual, as though the case didn't personally upset him in any way. "And Susanna's murder," he added.

"So you think there's a clue in the house somewhere," Silda said, nodding. "Why don't you just ask the family for the key? Surely, they wouldn't refuse."

"I… can't have anyone in the palace find out that I'm looking into it," Yngve admitted. "I've been sort of banned from the investigation."

Silda paused for a moment and looked across the table at Yngve, evaluating him. To him, it felt rather like the way his tutors and trainers often looked at him when judging his work, form, or performance. It made him feel like prey. Finally, Silda spoke up.

"Based on your practice with me today, you'll never get that door open," she told him honestly. "There'll be three more victims before you get into that house on your own."

Yngve's face fell. After all he had already put into this, he couldn't believe his investigation was about to end here, all because he couldn't figure out how to pick a stupid lock.

"On the other hand, there may be someone you know who can open the lock for you," Silda hinted.

"You'll open the lock for me?" Yngve asked hoepfully.

"Sure, sure," Silda said. "For a fee."

"Name your price," Yngve said, eager to make a deal.

"I'm not after gold, exactly," Silda said carefully.

"What, then?" Yngve asked.

"I want something more along the lines of a token," she said. "Something that says I've helped your family."

"Won't that raise questions about how you helped me?" Yngve asked skeptically. He knew it would, especially in the hands of someone like Silda.

"I won't tell if you don't," she said conspiratorially.

"Yeah, but there's the matter of what we will tell them," Yngve went on. "It's not just the citizens who'll ask. It's everyone. The guards, Jorleif, my father… it seems like the kind of thing that's bound to get back to them.

"Sure," Silda agreed. "But you're a smart boy. You'll think of something to tell them."

"But…" Yngve began to protest again, but Silda cut him off.

"That's the deal I'm willing to make with you, young lord," she said firmly. "Take it or leave it."

"Okay, okay," Yngve said. "I'll take it."

"Good," Silda said. "Meet me here again tomorrow with payment. After that, I'll see that the door stays unlocked until you get your look-see."

"Okay," Yngve said, feeling somehow defeated. He thanked her awkwardly, although he wasn't really sure she deserved thanking just yet, and they took their leave of Candlehearth Hall and parted ways.

Briefly, Yngve considered walking to the market to browse the stalls, as he was fond of doing, but ultimately he decided against it and turned toward the palace. For such a short time spent out, he felt as if he'd had a long day, and the thought of being at home, where he could relax, was appealing. As he passed the walkway that led to the cemetery, he suddenly realized he could hear heavy, fast footfalls coming toward him. Turning to face them, he nearly turned and fled, as he was greeted by the sight of a large man barreling toward him at top speed, followed by a gaggle of guards. But, as they reached him, they all came to a stop, and by that point Yngve's brain had time to realize that the enormous man running toward him was only Tymver.

"There you are," Tymver said, panting.

"Of course," Yngve replied, doing his best to put on an expression that was calm, at ease, and mildly confused.

"When we realized you were gone, we looked everywhere," Tymver explained between breaths. "We were trying to find you before your father realized you were off on your own."

"Did you succeed?" Yngve asked, mildly alarmed.

"I think so," Tymver said. "But what were you doing?" he asked, looking at Yngve sternly.

"I wanted a walk, and I wasn't sure where you were. I thought you were still bathing," Yngve lied, stifling a cringe. Despite how often he seemed to be doing it during this phase of his life, he really didn't enjoy lying – especially not to people like Tymver, whose entire job was to keep him safe.

"I was just on my way back home now," Yngve added, smiling in a way that he hoped was disarming. It seemed to work, Yngve supposed, because without further question, Tymver joined him and they returned to the palace.

That evening was mostly spent by Yngve in his own room, trying to think of what he could give Silda as a token of his gratitude. Nothing he owned seemed suitable, as it could all be classified under one of two categories: things that were too official to give away, such as his signet ring; and things that were not publicly recognizable as Stormcloak items, such as his personal effects. And anything that belonged to either of his parents was not an option.

He flopped across his bed in frustration. He had wracked his brain for the entire evening and come up with nothing. He rolled over onto his stomach and flopped down again, heaving a melodramatic sigh and wondering what he was going to tell Silda the next day when he returned to meet her at Candlehearth Hall, when his gaze settled on a small drawer in his writing desk and an idea struck him.

After sifting through the desk drawer for several minutes, Yngve found what he was looking for. He pulled out his old personal seal. It was perfect! It was no longer relevant in any official capacity, as it bore a design he hadn't used since he was around 10 years old, and as such it had never been used on any sort of legitimate business; if Silda lost it, there would be no way anyone could successfully impersonate him with it. At the same time, it was an obvious Stormcloack artifact, as its design, while uniquely used by Yngve, still included elements of the clan sigil. And, importantly, it was Yngve's to keep or give away as he saw fit.

Now, Yngve just had to get the seal to Silda and figure out how to lose Tymver. Several ideas floated around his head as to how he could accomplish the second goal, but he was unsure as to how likely any of them were to succeed. The skeleton of his plan was to be in the marketplace and find a way to create some obstacle that would separate the two of them. In a startling or potentially dangerous situation, it would be natural for Yngve to leave the marketplace by way of Valunstrad, and he could duck into Hjerim along the way.

A slew of possibilities swirled around in Yngve's mind as the hour grew later, until finally he dozed off. His dreams were plagued by obstacles he might face and ways his plans were likely to go wrong, as well as the shadowy, looming threat of a killer on the loose in the city, who would surely strike again in a matter of time.

. . .

Sundas, 28th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Because he slept uneasily, Yngve woke relatively early. He wasn't hungry, due to nerves, but he ate a chunk of bread and some cheese anyway, so he could take the medicines that he had gotten from the White Phial. He still wasn't able to do anything to his hair, with his injured hand, so again he simply let it hang loosely.

For the first half of the day, Yngve went about his business as usual. He was finally starting to get back into something of a normal routine. Starting on this day, he was to begin meeting regularly with his tutors again, at his father's insistence. To the detriment of Yngve's plans, this would mean a significant drop in the amount of free time he had. He supposed he'd still easily be able to meet Silda to deliver payment – after all, do to that, he would only have to take a midday meal at Candlehearth Hall and meet her there, and it had never been unusual for Yngve to be seen about the city socializing with whoever was around.

As for the rest of his plan – ditching Tymver and getting into Hjerim – he would now find his opportunities to attempt it fewer and farther between. Now that he would regularly be in lessons, there were only two significant chunks of time in the course of a week that he wasn't occupied with his education. One, of course, was Loredas morning, but Yngve didn't have any intention of not bathing. The other was Middas, when he didn't have any lessons scheduled. So Middas would have to be it.