Disclaimer: I do not on Skyrim.
-If you don't know the plot or setting, go read the first chapter.
Alexander drew back tentatively, "I'm sorry, but you must understand; if I didn't do that and you were part of something sordid, I would probably end up dead."
Marcus could see Alexander trying to balance between being polite and not scraping.
"No, I get it. It is good that you can mix good morals with self-preservation," Marcus was still a little nervous, and rather flustered.
"My other question is, why don't you just carry your own stuff, and I be your bodyguard?" Alexander knew he was being brazen, but he didn't really care, and Marcus probably didn't give a shit.
"It's a culmination of three things: I would rather do the fighting than the carrying, You're better suited for carrying heavy objects over long distances than I am, and I don't trust other people's swords," Marcus replied.
Alexander cocked an eyebrow, "You think you're sword is better than mine?"
"What you have hanging from your waist is an iron toothpick. It's long, but horrid quality."
"It is not horrid. It certainly gets the job done, and it's more about the wielder than the sword."
"I don't think you're a bad swordsman or anything, I couldn't possibly know that yet, but I know I am a good swordsman and I trust what I know," by now Marcus was grinning from ear to ear, thinking of alternative meanings for 'sword'. He wondered what how Alexander would react if he knew what Marcus was thinking.
At this point Alexander had given up trying to argue with Marcus; he wasn't going to get anywhere. It was a gorgeous sunny day on the road to Riverwood, but it was still frigid. This was especially so for Marcus, who had only recently come to the province.
When several wolves attacked them along the way, Alexander finally saw why Marcus refused to carry his things. Marcus had probably been training with the legion his whole life. His fighting was light and swift, possessing a certain finesse that could not be accomplished when weighed down by heavy things. It was far more refined than the brute Nord strength Alexander had grown accustomed to. Marcus held up his left arm as if he was trained to use a shield, but his fighting style was too light and quick for one.
After skinning the wolves, Marcus looked up at the sky. He soaked in the sun with wolf-blood spattered skin.
"It's time like this that I can almost forget how fucking cold this place is," Marcus sighed.
Marcus gathered up the pelts and went to attach them onto Alexander's packs, much to Alexander's dismay.
"Is it really necessary to have even more stuff. You're richer than The Nine," Alexander grumbled.
"We need these to make you some better armor. Can you smith?" Marcus grinned as he replied.
"Why don't you just buy the armor?"
"All those things you're carrying, I brought them for a reason. That's everything I truly own. Nothing that was given or attributed to me; only the things I worked for. I would rather that you smith your armor from wolves I killed and ore I mined," Marcus strutted about ironically in mock speech style.
"First of all, I Completely believe that you have iron ingots in these bags. More importantly, you can't smith can you?" Alexander asked inquisitively, since highborn Imperials are usually taught basic smithing as teenagers.
"That is one of many things you must never tell my father," the look on Marcus face meant he was dead serious.
Alexander furrowed his brow, "So how come…?"
"I … was busy with other things." Marcus's tone made it sound like it was personal, so
Alexander did not press the subject any further.
The air warmed up significantly as the day went on, and the two found themselves in good moods. The trail wound on, eventually coming alongside a gorgeous river with salmon jumping up a small waterfall. An elk across the river looked up for a moment, and then gently trotted off. Not long after they came upon Riverwood. It was small village centered around a mill, but it had far more business than Ivarstead. As they walked to the village forge, they passed a general store, and Alexander gained an idea for later.
"Do you mind if my friend here uses your forge?" Marcus asked the blacksmith.
"Eh, whatever. I's just heading in for lunch anyways," the thickset blacksmith answered as he walked away.
Alexander unloaded the packs and gathered all of the raw materials.
"So, what shall I make, Leather armor?" Alexander asked as he started tanning the hides.
"No, studded," Marcus replied with a sidelong glance off into the distance.
"Why? Leather would be more effective," Alexander wondered at Marcus's reasoning.
"Just make studded armor, okay?" Marcus grumbled; studded armor would fit Alexander better, and show more chest too.
Alexander rolled his eyes and set to work. Despite his utter lack of smithing knowledge, Marcus continuously critiqued Alexander's work, trying to be a perfectionist with something he knew nothing about. The end result was some well made armor that fit perfectly, and Marcus was quite pleased with the effect of his whininess.
"I noticed a general store across the road, Might we sell some of this mountain of stuff?" Alexander suggested with a sheepish grin.
Marcus glared at him, "No, none of it," he deadpanned.
Alexander cocked a single eyebrow, "Half," he stated.
Marcus replied with silent refusal, but Alexander smirked, and soon Marcus found himself entering The Riverwood Trader. Upon entry, a short Imperial woman sitting by the fire began flirting with Marcus.
"Well, aren't you handsome. Are you staying at The Sleeping Giant? I could visit you…" the woman smiled awkwardly.
Marcus furrowed his brow and frowned at the woman, "I'm just here to sell things," he snapped.
Alexander raised his eyebrows, but then shrugged and started sifting through the packs for the heaviest things to sell. He pulled out several logs and a banquet hall's worth of ornate silverware.
"Seriously? What is the point of all this?" Alexander asked exasperatedly.
"Save one log, and two sets of silverware." Marcus grimaced at the prospect of selling things.
"You're a bit of a hoarder, I hope you know that." Alexander snarked.
After they sold some more things, they had to leave because the shopkeeper was almost out of money, and most of Marcus's things were small tools and trinkets that cost more than the entire building. When they went to the inn to rents some rooms, Marcus was interrupted by a self-important bard.
"Have you met Camilla Valerius? A beautiful wench, one day I will make her mine," the Nord boasted.
Marcus who wanted nothing to do with the woman, gave the bard a psychotic glare and flipped him off. The blond Breton innkeeper was rather shocked at Marcus's actions, which was significant since she was pretty rude herself. However, she shrugged it off and offered them rooms.
"I've got two open rooms. I take it twenty gold won't be a problem for you?" The woman assumed correctly.
"That won't be necessary, one room will do fine," Alexander butted in and then trudged off to the room.
Marcus was left to pay the innkeeper and ignore her awkward, questioning look. He dropped the money in her hand and shuffled off as quick as he could. When Marcus was in the room he shut the door and faced Alexander.
"Why did you do that?" Marcus asked, red-faced with the possibilities.
Alexander simply waved his hand and gave no other explanation than, ""There was no point."
"uuh… Fine. Let's go get some wine or something," Marcus needed some alcohol to calm himself down.
"It's still early?!" Alexander coughed.
Marcus smiled and said, "Your point is?"
Marcus left the room immediately, and by the time Alexander followed suit, Marcus already had two bottles of wine in his hand.
"Ten gold says that's some sort of family problem," Alexander proclaimed as he rolled his eyes.
"Well, I wouldn't call it a problem…" Marcus grinned as he tossed Alexander the gold.
Alexander chuckled and said, "We should at least take the wine outside, this is the first warm day in months."
"Out to the porch we go then," Marcus smirked and shrugged.
The two went outside and sat down on the porch steps facing the sun. A few moments later Marcus found his sunbeam blocked by a drunkard named Embry. Embry berated Marcus and Alexander for not sharing their wine with him. Despite his slurring voice, Embry refused to believe he was drunk. Much to Marcus's disgust, Embry suddenly puked all over him before stumbling away.
"Eughh! You drunken imbecile!" Marcus threw up his arms in repulsion.
Before he could do anything, Alexander began wiping Marcus off with a rag. (Once again from the endless supply of mostly useless luggage.) Marcus felt blood going to his face, and to … other places. Alexander's hands crossed Marcus's chest and legs, and Marcus was immobilized with nervousness. Alexander looked up.
"Sensitive?" he joked with one cocked eyebrow.
Once Alexander was done and sat back down on the steps, Marcus to a large swig of wine. There was not enough hours left in the day to make it to Whiterun, and the sun was starting to disappear behind the mountains. Marcus and Alexander decided to go sit in the inn and eat dinner. Marcus was still flustered.