Skyrim: Legend of the Dovahkiin
Instruction 4
Morndas, 2nd week
"Are you questioning my abilities!?" Stonearm shouted, slamming her fist into the dining table as she sprang from her seat.
"It's your temperament in battle that I call into question," Athis corrected her, still sitting. He was equally as angry as the female Nord who stood over him but to his credit, kept the tone of his voice civil. "You get too worked up over the smallest of insults thrown at you. You made the situation even more difficult for the rest of us when you broke formation and went charging at the bandits like an enraged bull."
Aela, who sat close by busying herself with sharpening her newly made arrows, watched with mild interest as the two whelps continued their bickering to one another. She had to admit that the Dunmer was right to question the Nord's temper in battle. While Stonearm was a fine warrior and peerless among the Companions when it came to shield defense, it would all fall apart once someone got her angry enough.
The situation that Athis spoke of was the job in Rorikstead the Jarl had asked them to assist with. Bandits had been attacking the settlement for an entire week. While the guards stationed there were able to hold and push back the attacks, they didn't have the manpower to track down and finish the criminals off. On top of that, the frequent battles were beginning to take a toll on the guard's already small numbers. Of the ten men that were stationed in the area, only six remained.
The Jarl, still short on manpower due to the dragon and Jackal attacks, promptly asked the Companions for their assistance. Captain Roggvar of the Whiterun elite had protested the idea on the grounds of the situation being 'official Whiterun business'. After a brief argument between the two, Roggvar was forced to relent Balgruuf's orders. The Companions then sent help to Rorikstead in the form of Ria, Athis and Njada. Balgruuf also managed to spare a few new recruits who seemed all to eager to join the band of warriors.
Before the battle Ria and the others went over a battle strategy to deal with the group of criminals. Since the bandits had at least a few more men then they did, they would have to be smart about how they approached the fight. They decided to lure the criminals in by making it seem as if the guards had abandoned the town completely, luring them into a false sense of security. They were taking a gamble by relying on the bandit's stupidity. While most of their leaders were no smarter than a Skeever, there were those that would prove themselves a cut above the usual riffraff.
Thankfully, the plan had worked better than they had expected. The guards were the ones to spring the trap and draw first blood, catching the brigands by surprise with well placed arrow shots that thinned their numbers out. The bandits—still confused and reeling from the ambush—were not prepared for the assault that followed. Ria, Athis, Njada and the rest of the Whiterun guard sprang forth and fell upon them. The battle had gone well enough until the bandit leader hurled an unheard insult at Stonearm, one that threw her into a complete frenzy.
If not for the combined efforts of Ria and Athis, the Nord would have been run through from behind.
"I don't get worked up, you grey bastard," Stonearm argued. This time, she was in the Dunmer's face with a finger on his chest. "I wont allow some low life criminal to insult me!"
"Then what would you call it, Njada!" Athis shouted, his temper finally reaching it's peak.
It was a full five minutes into the argument before Aela had heard enough.
"Enough you two!" she boomed, voice authoritative. She placed her arrows on the table and glared at the two whelps. "Both of you are beginning to test the limits of my patience. Either you both drop the subject and go about your business or I can make you run laps around the outer city walls!"
The two studied the Huntress for a moment, as if they were trying to see whether or not she was bluffing. When they caught the feral glint in her eyes, the each visibly flinched and went to separate areas of the hall. Satisfied, the Huntress started to return to her small chore when the front doors opened and in walked Skjor and another man she had not seen before.
"Skjor, where have you been?" Aela queried as she stood up from her seat. She looked at the man standing next to her friend. "Who's this you've brought with you?"
"Where are Farkas and Vilkas?" he asked, ignoring the redhead's own question.
"They're training out in the back, but I—"
"Athis, go and fetch Vilkas and his brother." Skjor all but commanded.
"I'm not your errand boy," the elf replied coolly "Fetch him yourself."
Skjor's eye flashed with sudden anger, and her turned to look at the Dunmer. "Listen whelp, I am in no mood for your snide remarks. Just get your ass up and do as you're told."
Athis took a long draft of the mead he was drinking, never bothering to look the war veteran in the eye. "So now you give orders? Last I checked, no one person ruled another within these halls."
Skjor's jaw tightened and his fists clenched. He started towards the Elf but was stopped by a feminine, yet powerful arm. He looked down to see Aela glaring at him, her arm outstretched and blocking his path.
She turned to the Dunmer. "Athis, please."
With a loud sigh the Elf rose from his seat and strode out to the training yard. Aela lowered her arm and turned her attention back the war veteran.
"Skjor, what is this about? Has something happened?"
The older Nord's visage twisted to a scowl. "Worse than you could imagine."
The Huntress opened her mouth to reply but was cut off as the doors to the training yard swung open and Athis walked back in with the twins in tow.
"Skjor," Vilkas began as he walked over to the older Nord. "Where have you been?" he looked at stranger. "Who is this outsider you've brought with you?"
Skjor was about to answer when the man in question stepped forward.
"Pardon my intrusion, my name is Aler. I have very important information that you must hear."
Vilkas studied the man. He was Nord and stood a few inches shorter than Vilkas did. His physical build was also similar to Vilkas's own, though the Companion sported a more well toned definition. His black hair was shaved off almost completely, with only a soft fuzz that covered his scalp and his eyes were a typical brown. He wore a set of light leather armor and carried a steel sword on his left hip.
"It must be important, if Skjor has allowed you into our hall." Aela drawled, staring at the stranger.
"It's more important than you know, Aela," Skjor said, gesturing to the man. "He has information regarding the Silver Hand."
At the mention of the werewolf hunters. Each of the circle members tensed. Aela turned towards where Athis and the others sat.
"Come, Ria. You need to hear this." she called.
"This concerns only The Circle for now," Skjor said tersely, giving the she wolf a pointed stare. "Why are you involving the—" Realization slowly spread across the war veteran's face. "Is she—"
"She is of The Circle, Skjor." Aela told him. "Her induction happened weeks past."
"She's just a youngling, Aela!" the older Nord snapped, looking over to the woman in question. "An inexperienced one at that!"
"Much has happened in your absence, Skjor," Vilkas interjected. "Ria has proven her honor and skill in battle to us as well as the Harbinger."
The war veteran's face darkened at the mention of the title. "He gave her approval!?"
"We all did, Skjor," Vilkas clarified, gesturing to Aela and his brother. "Every one of us."
"She has been an excellent addition to The Circle," Aela added as she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Even the Silver Hand we've come across have not been able to stand against her."
Skjor gave the Imperial one last look over. To her credit, Ria returned an even stare of her own, never once looking away from the man.
Sighing, Skjor turned his attention to Vilkas and the others. "The Silver Hand is the reason I've brought Aler here with me today," he said, the tone of his voice grave. He gestured to the man. "Tell them everything you've discovered."
Nodding, Aler took a deep breath and informed them of the Silver Hand's recent activities. The reaction of the Companions was just as he suspected it would be.
"WHAT!?" Vilkas shouted, earning himself the stares of Athis, Njada and Torvar.
Farkas was silent, but clearly just as disturbed as the others were. Ria and Aela exchanged glances with one another, but neither said a word to the other. The news was far worse than they could have imagined. The Silver Hand had been all but been revived as an even stronger incarnation of itself. Krev had managed to recruit a large number of followers to his cause, many of whom were skilled, disciplined warriors.
Mercenaries, adventurers, mages, bounty hunters and even ex Stormcloak and Legion soldiers now made up a large portion of the Silver Hand's ranks. The largest bulk of their forces were the bandits and other criminals they had recruited, all of whom were being trained by the more skilled warriors, and from what Aler had told them, it was paying off.
"How?" Farkas finally asked. "How were they able to gather that large a force in a short amount of time?"
"People fear what they do not understand," Aler answered, arms crossed. "Krev knows this, and uses it to his advantage. He recruits his followers by using their fear of Lycanthropes and the love for their families or whatever else would move the people of Skyrim to action. After all, love will always move men and women to do the unthinkable."
"But Krev and his lot were never as organized as you now claim them to be, nor as well equipped," Vilkas stated, his fingers stroking the dark stubble on his jaw. "It would take a massive amount of coin for him to buy the great quantity of supplies they'd need to equip and feed all the people under his command."
"They receive a steady flow of coin and other provisions through contributions given to them by the nobles of this land." Aler said, stating his answer as fact than speculation.
"It holds no sense," Aela mused, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nobles care about their public image more than anything. Being associated with a group of fanatics—as many call the Silver Hand—would undoubtedly tarnish their reputations. So why would they ally themselves with a group almost everyone in Skyrim despises?"
"As I said before, people are easier to sway when their fear and paranoia is manipulated. The nobles must be convinced that the Silver Hand are some form of heros, risking their lives to protect them and their families, not to mention their interests."
"Sounds like blind loyalty to me." Ria said with a shrug.
Aler shook his head. "Whether it's blind loyalty or not is irrelevant at this point. The Silver Hand have been revived, and you Companions are at the top of their shit list."
Vilkas looked alarmed. "They aim to attack us?"
"Not just attack," Aler clarified. "They plan to wipe you out completely. Not just The Circle, but the other lesser members as well. Krev believes that anyone who sides with werewolves is no better than the beasts themselves. If they succeed, they'll take over Jorrvaskr and use it as their main base of operations."
Aela and the other Circle members, save for Skjor, all turned their attention to the Nord.
"You know?" Vilkas said, his tone becoming hostile. "How did you—"
"Krev has been trying to kill the members of The Circle for years," Aler explained. The Nord didn't seem the least bit put off the hostile glares he was receiving from the pack of wolves. "The only time he would go after anything other than the Companions with such zeal was when he was hunting Lycanthropes. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together."
He then looked to Skjor. "Not to mention I've worked with this grouchy bastard for many years. I'd be a fool if I didn't catch the subtle clues."
Aela's eyes drifted to Skjor's, a flicker of anger held within. "You told an outsider of our secret, yet admonish Ria for her gift?"
"I didn't tell him anything." the war veteran clarified, careful to keep his tone civil. "He figured it out on his own. I feigned ignorance on the matter but Aler is as sharp as a Skyforge sword. You don't have to worry, I've know Aler for years, he can be trusted."
The Circle members glanced sidelong at one another, eyes questioning whether or not they could believe their brothers words. Skjor was an honorable man and had never once lied to any of them before, but revealing their secret to one they themselves did not know was a serious violation of their secrecy.
"We'll discuss the matter of your friend another time," Aela decided, casting the man one final glare. "As of now, our primary concern is dealing with the Silver Hand."
"Easier said than done," Farkas stated. "We may be more skilled than even their toughest fighters, but if they decide to attack us in force we'd be in trouble."
Vilkas placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You make a valid point, brother. But remember, the Jarl wont allow those bastards to simply run free in his city. If they do come, they'll have the city guard as well as the Elites to contend with, not to mention getting past the gates."
"Even so, we shouldn't rely on the Jarl and his men alone." Ria stated, concern apparent in her tone.
"No one is relying on anyone, Ria," Aela corrected with a wave of her hand. "Vilkas is simply stating the tactical advantage we have over them. Before they can even think about touching Jorrvaskr, they'd have to get past all the armed guards posted outside the city walls.
Also, Balgruuf has men patrolling nearly every road leading to the city, not to mention the men he has stationed at the Western Watchtower and Whitewatch tower. Any large force would be spotted and engaged before they reached the city."
Vilkas nodded his head approvingly. "Exactly. If the Silver Hand actually decide to launch an assault, they would be met with heavy resistance." he paused, then continued. "That being said, Ria holds point. We must prepare ourselves for the coming storm."
"Someone ought to inform the Jarl," Aela told them. "He'll want to know what we're dealing with."
"If you would permit, I will tell the Jarl of my findings." Aler offered.
"Very well," Vilkas agreed. "I'll accompany you to Dragonsreach, I'd like to discuss a few plans I have with him."
"I'll go inform Athis and the others." Ria said as she strode away from the group.
As Ria, Farkas, Aler and Vilkas took their leave, Aela turned her attention to Skjor.
"What are your thoughts?" she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.
The older Nord leaned against the wooden beam in back of him and let out a tired sigh. "We're outnumbered ten to one in this, I don't like those odds."
"We've faced far worse." the Huntress ground out, her silver eyes never leaving his.
"Not like this, Aela. Before this, the Silver Hand was just a minor nuisance, and Krev nothing more than a bug that needed to be crushed. But now... now he has a small army at his command, armed to the teeth with the one metal that could easily kill us."
Aela's jaw hung open for a brief moment before she composed herself again. "I would understand if this came from the mouth of one of the whelps or even Ria. She hasn't fought with the Silver Hand, not like we have anyway. But to hear these words spring from your lips comes as a surprise. You speak as if you fear going into battle against them."
Skjor gave the Huntress a deadly look, eyes flashing with anger. "I hold no fear of Krev or his band of hunters!" he snapped. "This is unlike anything we have ever faced before, Aela, and it could lead to not only our deaths, but that of the name Companions as well."
Hanging her head, Aela closed her eyes and went silent, letting everything Skjor told her sink in. A long moment passed as she struggled to find what she was going to say to the man without striking out at his pride as a warrior. Finally, opening her eyes, she turned to Skjor.
"Eyes on the prey, not the horizon."
Skjor's brow furrowed in confusion, and she repeated what she'd said.
"Eyes on the prey, not the Horizon. Those are the words we live by. We live and fight in the present, in the here and now, never worrying about what the future will bring."
Skjor could only stare into his friends eyes, searching them for the meaning of her words. The answer he sought however was lost to him, as was always the case with the Huntress. She prided herself on being able to mask her emotions as well as the cryptic words she sometimes spoke.
"The moment we became Companions," she continued, her silver eyes boring into the older Nord's. "Was the day we consigned ourselves to an early grave. We wake ourselves each dawn with the knowledge that it may well be our last on this earth. We, as Companions, don't have the luxury of long lives.
Kodlak, a man who was like a father to many of us is dead and the bastard who took his life yet lives and is now trying to send the entirety of the Companions to the afterlife. I tell you now, Skjor, that I will hunt down and kill every single one of those silver wielding bastards even if I have to do it myself. I will slaughter my way through their ranks until I stand face to face with Krev.
I will show him and all who follow his command true fear before I send them to Oblivion. But if the cold hands of death are to take me, I will show them how I fucking embrace it."
Skjor suppressed a shudder of fear than ran down his spine. Though she looked similar, the woman that stood before him with the fires of vengeance burning within her liquid silver eyes was not the friend he had known for so many years. Standing before him was the savage she-wolf that he had encountered on rare occasions, the she-wolf that had once nearly single handed wiped out an entire fortress of Silver Hand and a dozen master vampires.
Suddenly, for the first time in his long life, Skjor felt a pang of sorrow for Krev and the rest of the Silver Hand. This was a battle none of them would live to tell.
Tobias nearly bit his tongue in surprise as he saw one of the members of The Circle and a man he didn't recognize ascended the steps to Dragonsrach. For weeks he and a large clutch of other Silver Hand agents had been posing as new Whiterun guard recruits in order to keep watchful eyes on the Companions. Other than learning how the guard operated and the strength of the city's defense, Tobias knew next to nothing about his true quarry.
The damned commander of the guard, Caius, made it clear that they were to stay way from Jorrvaskr, stating that they didn't need to waste men patrolling the grounds of trained warriors who were ready to do battle at the drop of a hat. Despite his urge to utterly ignore the man's orders, Tobias did as commanded. He and the other Silver Hand agents were to play their parts as guards to the letter. That meant they were to follow every order given to them by the commander or the Jarl himself.
Krev had warned them that the Circle members were very perceptive, and that overreaching in their attempts to help or befriend the Companions could lead to their discovery as spies. Tobias knew he and the other Silver Hand agents were playing a dangerous game. If even one of them were caught, they others were expected to stick to their ruse as guardsmen, even if it meant they were ordered to execute one another.
Besides the Companions and the overbearing Whiterun commander, Tobias had yet another problem in his growing list. That problem took on the form of the Jarl's Dunmer Housecarl, Irileth, and the Elites of the Whiterun guard. To say the Elf was paranoid was like saying a werewolf was a puppy. The woman had drilled every single new recruit with questions about their background and previous line of work.
Day after day she would watch them like a hawk watched its prey as they went about their assigned duties, causing quite a few of them to grow frightened of her. The Jarl had told her her that she was being overly paranoid, but the Elf had simply dismissed him. The Elites weren't as bad as the Housecarl, at least not as far as Tobias was concerned. They would purposely use their sparring sessions with the newer guardsmen as an excuse to beat on the poor bastards. At one point they had beaten one of the men so badly that he'd been rendered unconscious for an hour straight.
That incident, along with many others, had led to the men involved having a month's wages deducted from their pay as well as being reprimanded by the Jarl's daughter. Tobias couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Despite Whiterun being considered the most peaceful of the Holds, it was never without its moments.
As Tobias made his rounds in the Wind District, the Commander of the guard made his way toward him.
What in Oblivion does he want now?
"Tobias, you've got a visitor." Caius informed him.
"A visitor?" Tobias repeated, rather confused.
"Yes, I told her that you and the rest of the men were busy with your duties, but she insisted that she speak with you. I'll have Tove pick up your route for a bit, but I don't want you chatting with your friend all day, I need you back here as soon as possible, understood?"
Tobias was surprised that the old bastard even agreed to let him speak with his 'visitor'. "Yes, sir."
Caius nodded and made his way towards Dragonsreach. Curious as to the identity of his visitor, Tobias quickly made his way towards the city gates. As he drew closer, he could see that there was indeed a woman waiting for him. His heart nearly leaped right out of his body as he saw who it was that awaited him.
"You wear that Whiterun armor well, Tobias," the woman said, a large smile on her lips.
"Artemisia?" Tobias nearly bit his tongue for the second time that day. Standing before him was none other than Artemisia, the greatest warrior among the ranks of the Silver Hand, as well as Krev's daughter. "What in Oblivion are you doing here?"
As she slowly strode closer to him, Tobias took a good look at Artemisia's features. She was pale for an Imperial, her skin being nearly as white as the Skyrim snows. She had long, flowing black hair that traveled well past her shoulders. Her eyes were an eerie light brown color, almost red in their appearance. She wore a braided vest, armbands and skirt that fell just past her knees, likely made of werewolf fur. Tobias gave an involuntary shudder, if Artemisia was here, that meant she was either checking in, or he and the others had somehow botched their mission.
"Take off that helmet, Tobias," the woman commanded. "You look foolish."
Tobias gave an annoyed grunt. "It's not like I want to wear this thing," he said as he removed his head gear. "That goddamned Caius makes all the guardsmen wear these blasted buckets."
Artemisia smirked as she looked upon her old friend. He hadn't changed in all the years she'd known him. He wore his dark brown hair short, barley going past his ears. He had a lean build, unlike most other Nords in Skyrim. Tobias wasn't the most handsome man, be he wasn't ugly either.
"Why are you here, Artemisia?" Tobias inquired. "I thought your father ordered the rest of the Silver Hand to stay away from Whiterun until we'd gathered enough intelligence on the Companions."
"My father's orders remain the same," Artemisia explained as she began to pace back and fourth. "I was sent to collect the information you and the others have gathered thus far."
Tobias ran a hand through his hair. "In regards to the Companions, next to nothing, other than one of their senior members just showed up awhile ago."
"You've at least gathered information about the city's weaknesses, correct?" Artemisia inquired.
Tobias Shook his head. "The security in Whiterun and the surrounding areas have been significantly increased. They've stationed guards at every post imaginable, even more so in and around Dragonsreach."
Artemisia gave Tobias a curious look. "You sound worried, Tobias. Even if Balgruuf has increased the number of guards it makes no difference. Our sleeper agents outnumber them ten to one, taking Whiterun will be a simple task."
A look of utter confusion fell upon Tobias's visage. "Ten to one? Who informed you of such exaggerated numbers?"
Artemisia eyes flashed. "Exaggerated?"
"We do not outnumber the guards in the city, as you believed. Our numbers are significant, but not nearly enough to take an entire city on our own."
Artemisia clenched her fists, face distorted with barely controlled anger. "That fool Alorn has given my father incorrect information. If he marches on Whiterun too soon, it could prove disastrous for the Silver Hand.
I will return to my father and inform him of the current situation. In the meantime, you and the others are to continue with your mission. Tobias, you must find a way to thin out the number of guards within the city, understand? My father wants as little resistance as possible when we take Whiterun."
Tobias nodded. "Of course, but what of the Companions? They will undoubtedly be among the ranks that defend the city."
"Leave them to my father and I, Tobias," the Imperial anwered. "He has something special planned for them. One more thing, Tobias. Have you or any of the other agents spotted the boy my father is after."
Tobias shook his head. "Unfortunately, the have been no sightings of the one your father seeks. Apparently, there's usually a big commotion whenever he makes a public appearance, and nothing like that has happened in the past week. Rumor has it that he's out on some important job in Ivarstead. Other than that, he's a ghost."
"Unfortunate, but it matters not," Artemisia said. "Keep your eyes open, and if you see him, send word to us immediately."
"Of course, Artemisia." Tobias said as he donned his helmet and walked off into the city.
Wasting no time, Artemisia turned on her heels and headed out of the city. She would have to come up with a new plan if Whiterun was to be taken. But attacking too soon could be disastrous, especially with the Companions defending the city. No, she would have to bide her time and strike when the time was right.
Fridas, 2nd week
The Inn was quiet for once, something Lydia thanked the gods for. For the past week large groups of mercenaries had been coming into Ivarstead and staying at the in for a few days before moving on. More often than not that meant many nights of drunken revelry, singing, prideful stories of accomplishments, unwanted advances and inebriated confessions of love.
Lydia smirked as she remembered one particularly drunk mercenary's confession of falling in love with her on sight and his sudden marriage proposal. She let him down as gently as she could, but that did nothing to numb the pain of what he called "being rejected by the goddess Dibella in the flesh".
Still, despite her dislike for the rowdy, drunken escapades of the sell-swords, she was grateful for the distraction it gave her from her growing boredom. Another week had passed and her Thane had yet to return from the monastery. Though she was fully aware of the importance of her Thane's training, the time it was taking for him to complete it was beginning to get to her. Whatever it was the Greybeards were teaching him, Lydia could only hope they did so faster.
The Elite's attention was shifted as the doors of the Inn were all but kicked open and four steel plated individuals strode inside. Each of them were male Nords of varying height and physical appearance. Three of them were strongly built and stood at the average height of their kind, while the fourth was a two heads shorter and had a wiry build. With the way they walked and carried themselves as well as the immaculate looking state of their armor, Lydia guessed they were the personal guards of some noble in the region.
"Let me guess," the barkeep started as the four men approached. "You lot want a round of mead, right?"
One of the men, who Lydia could only assume was the leader of the group, took a seat on one of the stools. "We seek information, not drink."
"Information, hmm? Well, that depends on what you wish to know."
The mercenary pressed the tips of his fingers together. "We seek information on the whereabouts of the Dragonborn."
The low chatter of the Inn's patrons ground to a complete halt. Lydia's body tensed at the mercenary's mention of her Thane, but she remained seated at her table. What in Oblivion did these men want with him?
Wilhelm, the barkeep, gave a dry chuckle. "You'll have to seek it someplace else, then. I hold no knowledge of the Dragonborn or where they might be."
"The Dragonborn was summoned by the Greybeards some time ago to High Hrothgar, the monastery at the top of the mountain just outside," the mercenary leader explained. "You mean to tell me from that time until now that no one has made the trip up and returned?"
"Do you have any idea how many people came and went up that mountain?" Wilhelm asked. "There were scores of people from all over Skyrim that came to make the trip to High Hrothgar. If any of them were the Dragonborn, they'd be long gone by now. I'd say you've lost any chance you have at finding them."
The Mercenary turned and began to examine the Inn patrons. "There must be someone in this town who knows where the Dragonborn is." the man asked in a raised voice.
Lydia was beginning to worry. The only form of protection the citizenry had were the small number of guards that patrolled the town, and as she had learned a week earlier, they couldn't be counted on to do anything. They would sooner let the mercenaries torture the entire town for answers than stop them.
Even more sickening was the fact that something like this was a common occurrence among Rift guards. Lydia supposed it was a reflection of the Rift's growing corruption. As she began going over how she could stop the mercenaries should they begin harassing the townspeople, the Inn doors suddenly swung open.
A man clad in full steel armor wearing a black cloak that covered his face and most of his upper body walked inside. There was a low chatter among the Inn's patrons as the man casually strode past them and the now silent mercenaries. As the man walked closer and closer to where she sat Lydia stealthily unbuckled the strap that held her sword in place.
"Calm yourself, Housecarl," the man said as he took a seat next to her. "There's no need for any of that."
At the sound of the familiar voice, Lydia slightly relaxed. "My Thane?"
"Yes." he answered, pulling his dark hood off his head. "Gather your things, Lydia. We're leaving Ivarstead.
The Elite opened her mouth speak but decided not to bring up what she needed to tell her Thane until they were well a ways away from the group of mercenaries. She quickly stood and headed for her room to retrieve her apparel.
As he sat quietly at the table, Spartacus noticed the three steel plate clad men approach him.
"Judging by your attire and the knapsack you carry, I take it you've traveled recently."
one of the men said.
"An astute observation." Spartacus said dryly.
The mercenary stared at him for a moment before speaking again. "My comrades and I seek information on the whereabouts of the Dragonborn."
Spartacus shook his head. "Then you seek information that is nigh impossible to find."
"So I've heard. But you must have heard rumors in your travels, correct? Stories being passed from Inn to Inn by other travelers and the like."
"I keep to myself," Spartacus answered simply, not bothering to look any of the men in the eye. "So if there are indeed rumors and stories circulating about the Dragonborn, then I am ignorant to them."
"I'm ready to leave whenever you are." Lydia told Spartacus as she approached.
"Good, lets get going. We've got a long road ahead of us."
The two Nords pushed past the three mercenaries and made their way out. Once they were an acceptable distance away from the town, Lydia decided to voice her concerns.
"My Thane, those men back there were—"
"Looking for the Dragonborn." Spartacus finished. "Sent by Maven Black-Briar herself, no less."
Lydia gave a confused look. "How are the Black-Briars involved?"
"Those men had the initials BB Forged onto the pauldrons of their armor," the young Nord answered. "The only person I know with those initials is Maven Black-Briar and the rest of her family."
"What in the nine holds does Maven want with you?"
"It doesn't matter," Spartacus said, undeterred. "I have more important matters to deal with."
Though it still worried her why Maven Black-Briar of all people was after her Thane, Lydia decided to not to press the man to take action. If he wasn't worried about it, then she could only follow his lead.
"My Thane, exactly where are we headed?"
"Ustengrav, Lydia. We're going to Ustengrav."
Hey guys, it's Zero. I know, I know... The wait for this chapter was fucking ridiculous. I mean, 4 months with no update is inexcusable. But believe me when I say I'm sorry for making you wait so long, I'll TRY to make sure it doesn't happen again, but no promises. Things have been going kinda up and down on my end, and I'm trying to get everything situated.
Now in regards to the story, you'll notice the character of Artemisia, Krev's daughter. I'm going to say this now so that it wont come up in the future or confuse anyone when they're reading, but the names of famous individual from our actual ancient history will make appearances in this story, like the name Spartacus. So, if those does not bode well with some of you, then I'm afraid you'll have to find a new story to read. There are serious liberties I'm taking with the story. It will still be the same Skyrim everyone knows, but with some changes that will make the story all the more enjoyable.
The back story and Origins of Artemisia will be told in later chapters, so be on the look out for that. I've already started work on chapter 18 of the story, hopefully I get it out sooner than this one. If you have any questions or want to give any suggestions feel free to slide me a PM. Till next time.
Bang~