The longest night of his life began the moment he set foot in the Palace of Kings. In truth, he probably hadn't been in there for more than a few minutes, but it had felt like hours as he withstood Ulfric's demands, and ultimately his decree of banishment. Fearing for one's life certainly made time seem to crawl. Then, the walk home also felt like forever as he limped along, fighting the dull pain in his body from the rough treatment he'd received. The only consolation was that no one had been around to see him in his sorry condition. He'd had to stop and rest on more than one occasion, catching his breath and gently rubbing the sore spots where particularly vicious chunks of ice had caught his back. He felt truly pathetic. It would have been so easy to break down, but there was no time for that. Dawn would arrive before he was prepared the way it was.
Finally, Quintus unlocked the door to the shop. He stared as the light from the street braziers illuminated silhouettes of items along the counter. Ulfric had said this was not home, and at the time he thought perhaps the man had spoken true. Now, standing there, he didn't believe it anymore. He wasn't ready to leave the store Nurelion had founded, where he had spent a third of his life, where he had lost his master not long before. Throwing the door closed, plunging the room into darkness, he finally sank to the floor against the sturdy door and allowed himself to crumble. Better to get it over with than to withhold it and have it come out when they came for him.
As the tears poured from his eyes, he questioned why this was such a big deal. He had no real reason to stay in Skyrim with Nurelion dead. This had been a sort of study abroad, and now it was over. This wasn't his real home no matter how fond of it he had become. He had his family in Cyrodiil, he had his education and several impressive accomplishments to boast of. He would not be ridiculed or harassed for his race, and would blend in far better. He could easily get a good job, provided he made it back safely and wasn't killed by bandits on the roads. Wait, what if Ulfric staged some "bandits" so he could off him without it looking like he'd been too harsh in the eyes of his citizens?
But if he were being honest, the dangers of the roads weren't what kept him from embracing his return to Cyrodiil. What would Fjori think if he just disappeared and left the province? They hadn't been a couple for that long, surely she couldn't expect he'd stay just for her… But they'd shared something special, something intimate. Part of him would forever feel guilty for walking away after she'd revealed so much of herself. The whole thing would be so much easier if they hadn't just had that day together, even more so if they hadn't fooled around the morning she'd left! Suddenly, he realized that he NEEDED her to help him make the decision, and with her nowhere around, he felt helpless. It was terrifying, and it triggered a sudden swell of emotion as his sobs returned. Would she come running once she heard the news? Would she search for him, putting off her own missions? Would he become a burden to her? It frustrated him that despite the countless logically sound reasons to leave, this one hopeful reason could counter all of it and make this so difficult.
Finally, after several more indulgent minutes, he wiped the tears away and did his best to get back up. As much as he could carry. The rest he could worry about later. Quintus moved to light an oil lamp and begin taking stock of his options. It disgusted him to think Ulfric wouldn't know what to do with most of this stuff and would probably pawn it off or let it rot somewhere. If he could take a few simple tools, he could still prepare a couple of salves even while traveling. Better get the bag and start packing it in as carefully as possible.
Quintus dragged himself up the stairs, ultimately going on his hands and knees as his body protested. Once he reached the landing and his eyes fell on the bookshelves, he realized what should have been obvious the whole time: nothing in this building was more precious than Nurelion's research notes. His heart sank in dismay; he'd never be able to carry all of the books by himself! Maybe if he were a strong, beefy Nord he'd be able to carry all that weight, but not as he was! How was he going to select only the most important tomes? The idea of leaving them to Ulfric made him feel sick, but there were few options. He resigned himself to find the biggest pack available and start the selection process. Leave a little room for a mortar and pestle, his gold, and that would be about it.
It was hard to know how much time had elapsed when he heard a knock at the door. He had only just weeded out half of the books and begun arranging them carefully in the pack, and his heart thundered in apprehension. There was no way it was time! Had Ulfric changed his mind and ordered his execution? It took him so long to stand and make his way down the stairs that the knocking repeated. "I'm coming!" he announced weakly, teetering to the door. Damn, it seemed the more time passed, the worse his bruises seemed to feel.
When he pulled open the door, he was relieved to see the faces of Malthyr, Elthyr, Revyn, and a whole host of other Dunmer from the Grey Quarter. Before he could even ask, Revyn stepped forward. "We'll talk once we're inside," he hissed, and Quintus quickly stood back to allow the group entrance. Once the last one entered, the door was latched. "Now, serah, we must be quick. We know the guard patrol's routes, and we've got no more than ten minutes."
"To do what?" Quintus stared blankly.
"To get some of your goods out of here before Ulfric can snatch them up!" Ambarys declared, rolling up his sleeves. "There are plenty of places to stash things in the Atheron residence."
"I'm as discreet as I am resourceful," Aval Atheron winked with a smirk. Wait, Quintus had seen him before at a stall in the market. What was he doing here?
"Well, that does sound better than letting them go to waste," Quintus admitted, scratching his head. "I'd hate for him to…wait a moment, how do you know about that?"
"The court wizard stopped by the Corner Club," Malthyr supplied. "A bold move, to be sure. Apparently, he may be Ulfric's staunch supporter, but he doesn't like this. He told us what was going to happen to you, and suggested we get over here to help.
Quintus was simultaneously baffled and touched. He'd have to think about it later. "I must say, your appearance is very welcome, but won't you get in trouble when Ulfric finds an empty store?"
"True, we can't take everything," a Dunmer woman admitted, "But we can take the things that are the most valuable." She seemed familiar. Perhaps the woman who was often walking around with Grimvar Cruel-Sea in tow?
Quintus nodded slowly. "I'll be glad if you can use it to help yourselves. You have been good neighbors to us for all these years."
"O-ho, I think you misunderstand, my boy," Revyn smiled gleefully. "And I think you will find us even better neighbors when you do understand. We're not going to use the stuff or sell it, we are going to stash it for you so when you return, you can claim it again."
The Imperial gawked. "You would…do that for me? But what if I don't make it back?"
Ambarys barked a laugh. "Boy, do you really think Fjori is going to let this stand? Once she finds out, she'll have Ulfric's head on a platter, and believe me, I won't shed any tears over it."
"You…know Fjori?"
Almost everyone in the room nodded.
"She doused the lights of Rolff Stone-Fist. You know, the Housecarl's idiot brother? I can't tell you how satisfying that was for all of us!"
"She paid double the price of our Sujamma and downed the shot better than half the Dunmer customers I've ever had! Hell, she paid for my drink too!"
"She saw I was in a rough place and bought several things from my stall. Traded me some real nice things that caught the eye of other customers to boot."
"She helped me get my crops in before the snowstorm!"
And on it on it went, much to his wonder and pride. Somehow, when he hadn't been paying attention, his Fjori had been making a name for herself among the lower classes of the city, not just with the rich citizens that hired her out. "She is pretty wonderful," he smiled for the first time all day.
"She is. And even though many of us would have helped you out because we know you're a good guy and you've always dealt fairly with us, even more of us turned out because you are important to her." Revyn gestured grandly at the group assembled. "But enough talking. We've wasted half of our time just explaining. Come on then, point out the good stuff!"
"…Okay." He inhaled deeply, drawing on a newly-found sense of energy. "Let's do this."
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
It was lucky for Wunferth that he went towards the White Phial by way of the cemetery. He still almost missed the shadow of Quintus Navale in the faint light of dawn as he knelt before the newly erected monument to Nurelion, even though he was purposely looking there. When he looked down, he noticed the bulging pack on the ground near him. Ready to go, it seemed, or at least as ready as he would ever be.
Wunferth cleared his throat. "Giving your final goodbyes, eh boy?"
Quintus nearly jumped out of his skin. He snapped his head to look at the source of the voice, regretting his hasty movements immediately as a sharp pain coursed through his neck. His eyes went wide when he realized who was addressing him. "I, uh, yes. Here I was so happy that he was granted a burial in Windhelm, but now I won't be able to visit him." He seemed to reflect on his words and instantly recoiled. "N-Not that I'm complaining, of course. I'm grateful that Ulfric is allowing me to leave instead of, well, you know…"
Wunferth cast a critical eye on the ground, where despite the permafrost, fresh dirt had been moved. "And you spent your final hours planting for your master, is that right?"
Quintus frowned. "I put off the planting because I couldn't decide what would be best. There was no more putting it off. I put in blue, red, and purple mountain flowers, one of each. They all have restorative properties, you see. I thought that would be appropriate, even if they are all so common…"
"You honor him, that is what matters. I hope the old fool recognized what he had in the end."
He recalled the letter left to him, and nodded silently. "I hope they can grow without any tending. I'm afraid no one else will see to them."
"They are hardy flowers. They will bloom." He cleared his throat, signaling a change in topic. "Now, I am here to escort you out of town. But first, there is one more thing you need."
Quintus scrambled to his feet, still sore and off-balance. "What's that?" he inquired meekly, very much afraid of the answer.
"I have secured you a helper for your exodus. No doubt you had more of value than you could carry, especially in the way of books."
Quintus didn't even stop to think of what he could mean. "Yes! Thinking of leaving those notes behind was killing me!"
Wunferth chuckled. "Very well then. Follow me and we'll get the last few things from the store." They began the short walk back to the marketplace, Quintus's thoughts a jumbled mess as he tried to decide which few additional books he could bring. Wunferth said nothing until they rounded the corner and came face to face with a young street urchin. Quintus nearly ran her over he was so deep in thought, and she so small. The girl couldn't have seen more than eight or nine winters. "Good, you made it. This is the man you will be traveling with." Wunferth gestured to Quintus, who now realized just what the old wizard had meant. His eyes widened in surprise.
"You're sending a child with me?"
Wunferth waved. "She has nowhere better to be." When the alchemist continued to stare, he grumpily added "She chose for herself, it's not like I forced her to do this."
"Won't her parents worry?"
"No parents."
Quintus looked down at the girl, who was shuffling her feet uncomfortably in the snow. She looked like she wanted to disappear, and for the first time in his life Quintus thought he'd found someone even more meek than he was. "If you chose this, then I owe you my gratitude. I'll make sure you are well taken care of in exchange for carrying some of my books, I promise." His soft words earned a tentative glance in his direction, and despite the situation he smiled a warm, genuine smile. The girl risked a hopeful smile back.
"Come, come, we haven't got all day!" Wunferth's rough voice interrupted. "You are supposed to be gone at dawn, and here we are still. Fetch what you want the girl to bring. You have two minutes."
The poor young man jolted, and darted into the shop without another word. He hadn't bothered to lock it, after all. Wunferth followed behind, with the girl bringing up the rear. They watched as he dug out a second pack from back in his storeroom. He then gave the bag to the girl. "There are several books on the table upstairs. Put in only as many as you think you can carry. Anything would be a big help." He smiled again, forcing himself to push down the frenzy eating at him. She quickly nodded and scurried to do as he asked.
"Trusting her, eh?"
"If I tried to choose, we'd be here far longer than two minutes. And to be honest, I couldn't bear the thought of going up the stairs again," he replied. Every time he shifted, he was reminded of his injuries…
"You have been limping."
"Yeah."
They fell into silence, the only sounds being those of the little girl rustling around upstairs. Wunferth surveyed the space. "Still looks pretty full. Didn't some help show up last night?"
Was this a trap? Quintus looked away. "Help? Who would help me?"
"Don't be coy, boy, the help I sent."
Well then. "They did. They took some of the best potions in stock, and the rarest ingredients that would not go bad. They were careful to leave enough so as not to raise too much suspicion. They couldn't take the books, though. If that was found, they would be instantly connected to me and it would be all the worse for them."
"They are clever, those Grey-skins." Wunferth paused. "I'll see to it that the books the girl cannot carry are stored away safely in my laboratory. You may have them whenever you desire."
And that brought up the most important question Quintus had been forgetting to ask time and time again. Only now, with a moment to breathe, did it occur to him to ask. "Why help me so much? Not that I don't appreciate it, of course, but you swear loyalty to Ulfric, and he thinks I'm an enemy!"
Wunferth frowned. "Ulfric has my loyalty, it is true, but that does not mean I agree with every decision he makes. Suffice it to say I do not agree with this decision. You are harmless, not at all a threat to him, but he still perceives a threat because you held fast to your own ideals rather than yield to his. It's become a matter of pride for him now. You should know, for the record, that I did try-"
He was interrupted by the patter of feet as the girl clambered down the stairs. "I could only carry four, sir," she admitted with some embarrassment. "There were more on the table. I'm sorry…"
"Don't be," Quintus soothed. Secretly, he was impressed that the wisp of a girl could carry even that much. "That is four more than I would have had without you. Thank you."
The old wizard began to head for the door, apparently forgoing whatever he had planned to say before the girl's arrival. "Then it is time."
Quintus's eyes did one last scan of the shop. Nothing left but cheap odds and ends and… A glimmer of gold caught his eye, and he realized with great shame that he had nearly forgotten one very important thing. He walked towards the counter where a Dwemer gyro lay on display. It had absolutely no practical application, which was probably why he hadn't considered it until this moment. It was, however, very sentimental. Fjori had delved into Blackreach for days on a mission and brought this back to him as a gift. Even in the midst of danger she had been thinking of him. He had to find a way to bring it along! The item was not heavy, but took up a lot of space. If only he could attach it… And then he remembered the stash of leather strips behind the counter. Ignoring Wunferth's annoyed harrumph, he reached over and withdrew one, then began to tie a knot around one of the metal bands. Once he was on his way, he'd fasten it to his back, like a quirky bauble of some kind.
"NOW are you ready?"
"Yes, sir, sorry sir."
"Then we'll be on our way to the stables. I've arranged for a carriage to any one city of your choosing. I hope you have an idea in mind, but if not, you'd best think quickly." Wunferth pushed the door open and began a brisk pace, leaving him no choice but to follow without looking back. This was it. No more White Phial. He gripped the straps of his pack to bolster his courage and followed.
Wunferth ignored it, as if he'd expected it all along, but Quintus got quite a shock to see all the vendors in the marketplace standing in front of their stalls, watching the scene somberly. Hillevi and her husband, Niranye, old Oengul and his apprentice, even that Aval fellow from last night… The only person that did not surprise him was Viola Giordano; she most certainly wanted the scoop. They weren't staring, though. It truly felt more like a respectful salute. Damn it all, Quintus could feel the familiar lump in his throat forming. Not now, not in front of everyone. All he could do was nod in silent acknowledgement as they hurried by.
Turning the corner to the city gate, it only continued. Many dark elves leaned against the stone wall with their arms crossed and deep frowns plastered to their faces, but they too nodded at his passing. Good old Revyn wasn't afraid to speak up though. "The Argonians down at the docks send their regards, Navale." The Argonians? He hadn't even met the Argonians! Somehow he suspected that it went back to Fjori again, or at least had to do with one outsider speaking to another.
The moving scene was interrupted by a sharp command. "Move along, Grey-skins! This isn't a place for you to loiter!" A city guard out on patrol could be seen at the end of the passage, along with several colleagues. The alchemist panicked, fearing they would somehow start a fight over this.
Wunferth looked as if he were about to say something, but another powerful voice echoed through the alley first. "Standing near the gate is no crime, guardsman. They are causing no trouble. Leave them be." When he squinted, he could make out the form of Brunwulf Free-Winter. That was lucky. He was probably the only man who could get away with standing up to the guards besides the wizard. He may be oblivious to a great many things, but even he knew from his dealings with Dunmer customers that the man was respected by them for his willingness to come to their defense.
His voice of authority was enough to make the guards stand down, even if grudgingly. He could just make out their muted grumblings as they shuffled off. Finally, this got a smile from some of the Dunmer.
"Safe travels, Quintus," Malthyr called.
"You'll be back soon," Ambarys predicted with a grin.
And as soon as he reached the gate itself, Brunwulf turned to him with a melancholy expression. "May the Divines watch over you, Navale. I wish you all the best." Why did the man look so upset when he hadn't even really known him? How strange, even as he was being kicked out of this community, if felt as if he were being welcomed into it…
"Hurry, boy. Can't keep the carriage driver waiting," Wunferth urged impatiently, beginning to push the doors to the bridge open.
Turning one last time, he mouthed the words 'thank you', swallowed hard, and followed. Farewell, Windhelm.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVv
"So, where are we going, mister?" the driver inquired as he gnawed on a stalk of straw.
Quintus had a long walk across the freezing bridge to consider his answer. Before he took off for good, he wanted to find Fjori. The problem was, he had no idea how to. She would be off on an adventure, possibly anywhere in Skyrim. Given their prior conversation, he doubted she'd return to her home in Morthal any time soon. That meant the one place she might return to would be the city where she was a Thane. Damn it all, had he seriously never asked her where she was a Thane? It couldn't be Winterhold, that much was certain. And definitely not here in Eastmarch.
From his spot on the bench of the carriage, Quintus called out with more confidence than he felt, "Whiterun, please." It was on his way home if nothing else, and it was a busy crossroads. Maybe someone there would have heard of her.
"All right then, that's not so bad. We should make it before dusk just fine." The driver turned to face forward, and gave the reins a gentle slap to his horses. "Hyah!"
The carriage lurched forward, nearly sending the little girl flying. Only the weight of the books in her lap held her in place. It didn't feel too good on his sore back either. This was going to be a long ride…
"What's in Whiterun?" she finally found the nerve to ask. Perhaps with Wunferth's intimidating presence gone, she had grown a bit more courageous.
"To be honest, I'm not sure. It's somewhere that's not Windhelm, and right now that's good enough for me."
She nodded. "Me too. I overheard somebody say once that it's not nearly so cold and snowy. Maybe I could find more flowers to sell there."
His interest was piqued. "You sell flowers?"
"Whatever I can find. I know it's not much better than begging, but I try."
"Hey, that could be really helpful. I work with many different flowers. You could find them, and I could turn them into potions. We'd be a good team."
"You think so?" It was as if the girl couldn't bring herself to believe it could be true.
"Definitely…. Uh, say, I still don't know your name. That won't do at all. Mine is Quintus. What's yours?"
"Sofie," she declared. "And no, I don't want to go back to Windhelm, so don't worry about me."
"That's good to know." And it was. And maybe, with this girl hanging around, he'd have something to focus on besides his own worries. He could drown in them. Wunferth couldn't have known how helpful this was when he plucked her from the streets.
"Say, Quintus, what's that weird metal thing hanging on your bag? I've been wondering since I saw you put it on."
"Well, it'll be a long carriage ride. You want to hear the whole story?" She nodded eagerly. "Okay then. I warn you, I'm not much of a storyteller, but I'll try my best. The woman who found this thing, she's the real storyteller." His throat closed temporarily. "I hope you get to meet her."
