Author's note: I made an error in time management, so this update is 8 days late. I'm sooo sorry ;-;
On a related note, I've gotten a short story prompt from haydenunstopable, which will be the focus of chapter 29, since 28 is going to be the typical drabble chapter. Feel free to PM, or review with prompts! I love receiving them, and it helps to get more than two chapters out.
*THIS IS IMPORTANT, PLEASE DO NOT SKIP*
I need help with something. I want to change the follower of either Aranel or Káno but I'm not sure who I could use as a replacement. Any suggestions or ideas would be much appreciated, even if they're from a guest user or anonymous!
The sooner I can get feedback, the sooner I'll write the new character into a chapter. I'll also accept OC's, if you don't mind me possibly butchering a character :/ Either way, it's up to you guys. But I really do need help on this, so please give me some feedback. It's very important, so I need as many opinions as possible. Thank you so much in advance!
Disclaimer: Not mine
"Snow is horrible. Now, that isn't to say that all snow is horrible. But I'd be lying if I said that I loved it. It's cold, and wet, and it gets everywhere. Everywhere. Then, whenever I go into an inn, or a house, all of it melts and I'm left standing there in an ever growing puddle, trying to look serious while talking, or ordering, or whatever. Solstheim is no exception to this 'rule of snow.' If anything, it's worse. In skyrim, blizzards are rare, and occur while high in the mountains, or not at all. The rest of the land is covered in beautiful trees, waterfalls, and grass. Green grass, which actually grows. In areas where it isn't snowing, that is. Sure there are rocks, and some of the more inhospitable regions of the land feel like a constant frost spell, but those places are easy to avoid. I simply don't conduct business up there."
Marcurio tolerates the rant with his typical, patient silence. He knows exactly why Káno is going on and on about Solstheim and exactly how much he hates it, and it's not to say he isn't thankful for that, but it does get a little repetitive at times. Káno likes to narrate things to himself, which, Marcurio suspects, is one of the reasons he keeps a journal. Probably a leftover habit from childhood, the quirk has obviously stuck with him, and has turned into a rather endearing oddity about his friend- he can't really say employer anymore- that few other people seem to get access to. These full blown rants, on the other hand, are somewhat rare, and are usually his way of exhibiting stress. Their current predicament would be the best example of such.
"However, Solstheim is completely different. About half the island is dirt. Not grass, but dirt and ash. The land is dark and barren, and hot as fire. Some locals say it's from the volcano, others say it's magic, others say it's both. Either way, those regions are torture. The north side of the island, however, is anything but dirt. In fact, nobody really knows if there even is dirt, so far underneath the snow it must be. There, the winds constantly swirl, and snow hails from seemingly every direction. Putting an end to Miraak didn't seem to do anything, either. The land is still as cold and barren as ever. That area sees a small band of nords, the Skaal, as well as some ugly tiny blue creatures, which hurl spears at anyone who falls afoul of them. Kind of like us, you say?
He hasn't, but Káno doesn't stop to wait for a reply, and plows on ahead. As usual.
"Exactly. Exactly like us. One of the damn things even left a dent in my armor. It's not as bad as the Dwarven ballista, or whatever they're called, but still. I spent weeks working on that set of armor! I spent gold working on that set of armor! And one of those little… gremlins tries to damage it? No. Not okay. Also, apparently, there are also evil bears? What are they called, werebears? That doesn't sound right. But this land is dangerous. And it-"
A loud screech comes down from the mountains, causing Káno to lose his train of thought. He almost drops Marcurio's arm, but manages to grab it and maneuver him back upwards. They both glance at the sky, beads of sweat chilling on their faces. Presently, Káno turns, having decided that whatever it was meant them no harm (at the current moment) and they both continue on. They had gotten into a couple fights earlier, which had unfortunately resulted in Marcurio sustaining multiple leg injuries, and Káno losing more blood than he had thought possible. Marcurio still has yet to see where his companion's injuries were, as that blasted Daedric armor hides everything, but he hopes they aren't too extensive. On the other side of the island from any settlements, in the freezing cold, without health potions, and with multiple injuries is not how he hopes to die, and Marcurio is sure that Káno doesn't want to go like that either. Káno looks at him, obviously concerned by the look on his follower's face, and begins to move faster, quickening his pace to a half run, and shunting Marcurio to a position where he is able to carry him rather than merely support the other's weight. Marcurio objects rather strenuously, voicing his fears of Káno leaving a trail for possible enemies to follow. Káno, naturally, responds by turning and shouting at the ground with some sort of ice thing, the frost rune perhaps, which easily covers the ground.
"You really shouldn't expend energy like that, you know."
Káno brushes his concerns off, carrying them towards a nearby cave. He sets Marcurio down outside, handing him a portion of wrapped meat.
"I'm going inside to check it out. Wait here, don't get yourself killed."
Marcurio partially wants to argue with his friend, but upon hearing the short, terse, sentences, and seeing the fearful glint in Káno's eyes, he stops himself. The other man is frightened, as is he, and he realizes with a start that Káno is dripping blood onto the snow. He opens his mouth to mention it, and with a flash and the smell of smoke, Káno is gone.
Marcurio sighs, and leans against the stone, unwrapping the meat. It gives him back some of his energy, and he finds himself in the mood to tend to his wounds. Pulling out the cloth roll of bandages, he wraps and tends to the wounds which are accessible, not wanting to expose those underneath his boots until they are- unfrozen. The wind howls around him, and it seems like Miraak's voice still echoes in the frozen chill. Marcurio shivers, drawing in on himself. Miraak is dead, thankfully, but seeing his friend wrapped in Hermaeus Mora's vines for hours on end was a nerve wracking experience, and one he would not care to repeat. Káno has spoken little of what transpired in the realm of knowledge, but Marcurio sees a look in his eyes which speaks of experiences far too terrible to recount. And there is fear. But not of Miraak, never of Miraak. There was fear for the Skaal, and the Dunmer. There was fear for the lovely young woman they had brought with them into the ancient crypts. And there was horror, as they had seen her father slaughtered by the being with whom Káno had made a deal. Now, there is fear for Marcurio.
He ties off the last bandage tighter than he meant to, and winces as the dull ache confirms his mistake. Káno bursts out of the cave as he does so, sees the wince of pain, and almost immediately drops to his knees.
"Are you okay?! Did something happen?! Are you in pain?"
He smiles fondly, glancing at his friend before untying the bandage. Káno is too worried about what could have happened to notice, and is jabbering on about some safe spot to rest and checking him over and whatever else seems to be going through his mind. Marcurio lets the tirade run its course, finishes tying the bandage, and stands up.
"Káno, it's fine. Let's find that spot you were talking about, so that we may heal."
His friend immediately stops talking, opting to nod instead, and leads the way into the cave. It's actually much nicer than he had thought, being sheltered from the elements and with a natural pool and… actual herbs. In fact, it's something of a blessing that they managed to find a somewhat nice cave out in the middle of nowhere. Káno rolls a large rock into the opening of the cave, effectively sealing it away from any enemies, as well as the driving snow. There is only the room they are in, no other passages, and his companion finally sits down as soon as the stone is in place. Removing his helmet, Marcurio sees just how badly the man is injured for the first time. There are multiple abrasions on his face, as well as a long, but thankfully shallow, cut which runs from near his ear to his chin, cutting through the corner of the mouth. If it leaves a scar, it will be faint, but, he reflects, in the meantime Káno is going to look quite a bit more intimidating. Glancing from his comrade's face, he worriedly notes the blood dripping from some of the chinks in his armor. However, Káno refuses to take it off, and so Marcurio sets about cleaning and bandaging his own wounds. They silently light a fire, which immediately begins to warm the small area, and Marcurio sets about the task of cleaning his armor and clothing. As he begins, Káno speaks.
"Did I ever tell you how I managed to buy all the houses in every hold?"
Marcurio laughs, shaking his head.
"I didn't even know you had a house in every hold… why, exactly, did you feel the need to own all that property?"
Káno shrugs.
"I'm not sure… it was some time before I met you, when I was traveling without a companion. Faendal wasn't with me at the time, and I didn't feel like working on some of my more pressing jobs, so I decided to acquire more property. Don't get me wrong, I had intended to only get a house in Riften. But then one of the guards, no not my friend in Windhelm, the one in Riften, mentioned that there was a house for sale in the capital. I got pretty distracted after that…"
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, wincing as it comes away spattered in blood. He quickly lowers the hand, keenly aware of Marcurio's concerned look, and continues.
"I had already helped a lot of people in each separate area. So fulfilling that requirement was fairly easy. But I had next to no money at the time, having sunk almost all of it into training. Those men are thieves, I tell you, cold blooded thieves. Anyway, I was running around all over the country, trying to scrape enough money together to furnish close to five houses- five? Maybe six, I don't remember. "
Káno pauses for effect, and chuckles at the look on Marcurio's face. Marcurio doesn't find it as funny, and promptly shuts his mouth.
So I started haggling. And by haggling, I mean, driving the prices up to proportions that should not be allowed. Anywhere. The shopkeepers would go bankrupt. As it is, I drained at least seven merchants of their savings, and a good deal more have only a bit of gold to spare. I'm not sure why they buy all the goods I give them… it's a little odd. Maybe they just like me? Anyway, I somehow managed to get a pretty hefty sum of money together, and promptly visited every, single, hold. Every hold. By the end of the day, I had outfitted all of the houses with furniture, the housecarls were moved in, and I was broke again. And as they do, the Jarls sent word to the other holds, notifying them that I was a Thane in their court.
The problem was, since the missives were all penned the same day, they arrived at each other's courts with the next batch of mail, and the official documents. So within the week, I had letters from all of the Jarls, questioning as to what exactly I was doing, and why they had received letters from the others. It was one of the funniest things I've ever set in motion, and I can tell you that I couldn't actually step into their halls for quite a while after that, if to simply avoid the legal hassle. Things calmed down after a bit, but I've got the name Káno Six Thane across several holds, and every once in a while, one of the palace guards will remark on it."
Marcurio grins, filing away the nickname for later. He had often wondered where the friendly jests that came his comrade's way were from. Another mystery solved.
Káno leans against the wall, and begins removing his armor. The undertunic is drenched with blood, and his leggings have fared no better. He glances at the pool which lies underneath their feet, and with a nod from Marcurio, slips in. He comes up a moment later, spluttering, and almost immediately hops back out. Marcurio bursts into laughter as he sees his friend drenched from head to toe, and looking for all the world like a wet cat. A muttered curse floats his way, and he jumps as a moment afterwards Káno shouts at the water. Flames erupt on the surface, heating the water at least temporarily, and the other man quickly walks back in. After a short period of time, in which Marcurio finishes his cleaning, Káno gets back out, now clean. He's much paler without the layer of dirt, but after climbing up onto the ledge, Marcurio sees that his wounds are obviously not as bad as he had thought. Both of them sit in silence for a while, Marcurio mixing potions, and Káno tending to his own wounds. And in the silence, and the warmth, Marcurio realizes something.
No matter what happens, they are both going to be fine.