Chapter Three
One Month Later
Rain. Torrential rain. It had been three days since we started travelling from Cyrodiil to Skyrim, and now we had arrived, rain had been haunting us wherever we travelled. From the outlying regions, to the green plains outside a city called Whiterun.
I was in the carriage, being escorted by the company of soldiers along with General Tullius and my father. They were outside, on horseback.
I peered out of the frame of the carriage, at the rolling plains, smiling to myself. It was so different to Cyrodiil - there was wildlife everywhere! I even saw giants in the distance! This land was amazing! I was fascinated by it. The humungous rock formations and the towering mountains made me feel a decade younger - this land was perfect. The mountains crept up into the clouds, which masked them to all eyes below.
This calm did not last for long.
Within a second of the tranquility of the plains and the streams, the journey had changed - flaming arrows flew into the frame and landed into the wooden bench I was sitting on. I ducked down, more arrows flooding into the carriage. Outside I could hear savage battle cries, and the sound of clanging steel. I peeked through the frame to see a small army of men running at full speed towards our escort. They continued on running like wild boar, until a small attachment of them slammed into our carriage, heaving it over onto its side. I fell onto the frame, groaning. The door opened, and I saw a man standing in the light, his silhouette casting a shadow across the entire carriage, a hatchet gleaming in the light. I threw a hand out in a feeble attempt of defence, only to have the man fall backwards, engulfed in the flames that escaped my hands. I pulled my hands back in shock as the soldier collapsed off of the carriage.
I hoisted myself up out of the carriage, and took in the situation: a number of soldiers in light blue cloth and chain mail were overpowering the escort of guards. I jumped up and out of the carriage, my father running over to me.
"Tenebraeus! Get on the horse!" He hoisted me up onto a bright white horse. "Ride! Get out of here! Go!" I opened my mouth to respond to him - to ask what was happening - to ask him what was going to happen: to me, to him, everything. But he hit the horse, causing it to start racing off down the cobbled road. I grabbed onto the reigns for dear life, and as I looked back, I saw him continue to fight the amassing hordes around him, his fighting skills waning as the hordes began to overwhelm him.
I continued on the horse, never looking back. I was too scared to. I clutched onto the reigns so I wouldn't fall off at the great speed. I couldn't stop running. I could never stop running.
And I didn't.
Three Weeks Later
Riften was a grotty place. A dirty, thug-infested sewer-like city, with grave yards greeting visitors by the gates, and canals founding the city. All manners of inconspicuous and unlikely characters populated the city - sparsely around the railings of the wooden decking that was stacked on top of the canals, with the stone houses crammed on top of one another, crowded with families. The more unfortunate people had resorted to living in the marketplace by the courtyard, or on the lower levels, by the canals. I was sleeping in the warehouse out by the docks, and had been doing so for the past few days. I was only small, and so could hide in small places - places where what few guards that manned the warehouse already didn't know about.
I sat beside a cart of meat, observing the crowds moving around the marketplace, a flurry of rags and furs as they bartered and traded goods. There was a mixture of merchants and mercenaries, who I had percieved to be little better than thugs.
"Are you thieving gutter-rat?" I looked up at the dark elf's scowl, and tried to stutter out my innocence. She simply hoisted my up by the ear, and threw me forwards. "Lurk around here again, and I'll put you in the orphanage." I had heard about the orphanage - it was the place no child wanted to be: a place of misery and cruelty until you were finally old enough to leave. I scampered away from the elf. "Get back to the Ratway!" She hissed at me, before starting to announce her wares of food to the crowds.
I stood up steadily and began to walk past the series of beggars, who had more coin than I did. I was starving - wearing the shirt and doublet I had arrived in three weeks ago. I felt weary. I seemed to have lost all hope - I had no chance of travelling back to Cyrodiil. I was stranded here - just waiting to die.
"Running a little light in the pockets, lad?"
I turned around to see a man - dressed in the fine noble clothes of what appeared to be a merchant. His knotted hair I looked around for who he was talking to, but his eyes stayed firmly placed on me.
"I'm...I'm sorry, what?" I managed to stutter out at the adult.
"Your pockets: they're a little low on coin. I can tell." I gulped at this man. Something seemed shady about him.
"How could you possibly know that?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the figure, trying to keep my distance.
"It's all about sizing up your mark lad. The way they walk, what they wear, it's a dead giveaway."
"My wealth is none of your business." I managed to stammer out. He chuckled at me - at first I thought it was because of my stammering, but his response informed me it was my choice of words.
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong lad." He grinned "Wealth is my business." I examined his knowing face suspiciously. "Maybe you'd like a taste?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"I have a bit of an...errand to perform, but I need a pair of extra hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid."
"What do I have to do?"
"Simple, I'm going to cause a distraction, and you're going to steal Modesi's silver ring from the strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, you're going to place it in in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing." He said, pointing from the lizard-like person (?) to the dark elf. I shifted uneasily - my father had never approved of stealing.
"Why place it on Brand-Shei?"
"There's someone that wants to see him put out of business permanently. That's all you need to know." The figure shrugged. "Ready?"
"Wait!" I said urgently. "How am I supposed to do all of this?"
"Do you want me to hold your hand?" He rolled his eyes. He handed me two small metal tools. "Lockpick the stand and strongbox."
"How should I know how to lockpick?"
"If it's meant to be, it'll come to you." He said, pushing my along gently.
"Wait!" I called again, turning back to him. "Why are you doing this to Brand-Shei?"
"We've been contracted to make sure Brand-Shei remembers not to meddle in affairs that aren't his own. Now, since we're not the dark brotherhood, we're not going to kill him, we're just going to make sure he sits in the prisons for a few days." He said, almost innocently. "You ready lad?" I bit my lip, looking back over to the cart of food. If I did this, I would have money - I could have food. I could survive. I decided I would do this - I had to do this. Necessity beckoned. I nodded.
"Sure." He grinned, a sort of grin a friend would do - eager yet wise. A mixture of age and youth. He walked back to a large stand that I presumed to be his, and began calling all manners of the crowds, including the other store owners - Modesi and Brand-Shei. I sighed and set about to start my heist. At the mere age of twelve, necessity beckoned.
"Looks like I chose the right person for the job." The merchant grinned, watching the shouting elf being restrained by guards. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bulbous coin purse, tossing it to me. "Here you go - your payment, as promised." He grinned once more, letting out a relief of breath. "You know, the way things have been going around here, it's a relief that our plan went off without a hitch."
"The way things have been going?" I asked, perplexed. He let out a grunt of frustration.
"My organization's been having a run of luck," his grin shifted slightly, "but I suppose that's just how it goes." I started to feel sympathy for the man - I mean, he was a shady type, and had just essentially imprisoned a man, but so had I - maybe this man was doing it because he didn't have a choice either? He was as innocent in the matter as I was. "Best of all, there's more where that came from..." He smiled "if you think you can handle it." I instantly knew what he meant - more stealing? Becoming a thief?
Immediately, I felt repulsion to the idea - I was a noble! Soon to be a member of the gentry! But then I remembered that my father would likely be dead. I had no way of returning home - I doubted the Imperials would recognize me out here. Maybe thieving was the only way I could survive? But did that mean I would give up everything I was?
"I don't know..." I said eventually.
"Look, I'll make it simple for you. You can make some coin with us, or stay up here and end up in the orphanage. Your choice." I bit my lip, glancing around. It seemed like I was being thrown a lifeline in this whirlwind of people and starvation. "Come on lad, we'll feed you, give you a bed, whatever you need."
"But..." I tried to think of any reason not to listen to this mans very convincing promises. "But that doesn't mean anything if I get caught."
"I doubt you will get caught - you're a natural lad." I felt a strange pang of pride at the words. Like when my father was pleased with me. I had almost forgot what that felt like. "Besides, I'll show you the ropes." He winked. I couldn't think of a reason not to accept his deal. I mean, I could think of some obvious reasons, but none that outweighed my situation of starvation and inevitable death on the streets.
