CHAPTER 1

The meeting

If it hadn't been for Mjoll the Lioness, I wouldn't have made it. Without my new-found friend and motherfigure, there would be no more Raven. After she liberated me, she offered to escort me back to wherever I came from. However, this was easier said than done. I was certain everyone back in Raven Rock assumed I was dead, and I didn't see a point in returning. There would be questions, fussing. Instead of telling Mjoll I came from Raven Rock, I explained to her that my family had been slain by bandits. Instead of saying my father was a powerful politician back in our hometown, I said he was a travelling merchant. The kind Nord woman swallowed the bait whole.

To my surprise, she adopted me as her own. As we walked, she explained that she was currently hold up in Riften, a fishing town in the south of Skyrim. There was a sour tone in her voice as she came to who were running the city. A family called the Black-briar, along with something under the name of the Thieves Guild. It wasn't exactly a challenge to guess what their primary occupation consisted of.

For two years, Riften was my home. Mjoll took great pleasure in teaching me about the art of both two handed and one handed weapons. I soon discovered I had a natural talent for wielding a knife, as well as a bow. The smith in the town, Balimund, created a strong, powerful bow and knife for me, as well as teaching me the art of smithing. It lead to the point where I created my own armour. Of course, it was light, made out of mostly cloth, but reinforced with steel, ebony and silver. It was perfectly fitted and I was very fond of it.

Behind Mjoll's back, I took magic lessons from a mage that was held up in the town named Marcurio. As all Dunmer, I was skilled in fire magic and soon became powerful. I was described as a jack of all trades, which made me feel quite proud of myself. After years of hideous torture of all kinds, it was pleasant to be cared for, to be appreciated. My chest swelled with pride every time someone complimented me.

Another activity I partook in without Mjoll's knowledge was spending time in the Ragged Flagon. At first, I had shared my adoptive mother's view of the thieves. However, after spending an evening drinking cold mead with Brynjolf and Delvin at the Bee and the Barb, I changed my opinion. Down in the Flagon, I was trained in both sneaking and the art of picking someone's pocket without them noticing. I became quite skilled, and it was rare that I paid for anything with my own Septims.

But, my curious nature soon caused a restlessness to spread in my body. There were only so many times one could practice bow skills on deer out in the forest, practice magic on a temporary target, or refine the blade wielding skills on a training mannequin. Mjoll, being the same way, understood when I approached her to explain my predicament. There was a sadness in her eyes, but she did not attempt to stop me. I left the morning thereafter.

The Frostfruit Inn was surprisingly busy. It was possible that the harsh cold and driven the normally hardy people into the warmth. I was sat at a table as close to the fire as possible, yet as far from the rest of the crowd. For a few months, I had been making my living as a sell sword. It brought a steady stream of coin into my pocket, but the tasks were often mundane. It often consisted of little more than slaying a pack of wolves that had been bringing hardship to a farmer.

The bowl that had a few moments earlier been filled with Rabbit Stew was now empty and had been pushed to the side. Left in front of me was a pint of spiced wine. I preferred this to the mead which was often too sweet for my taste. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the innkeeper approaching me until his hand touched my shoulder. Concerned that there had been an issue with my payment for either the room or the food, I turned around and looked up at him.

"Excuse me." He said, leaning back a bit to cross his arms over his chest. The way he was built suggested that he had not always been an innkeeper. "You don't happen to be a mercenary?"

The fear of another mundane task almost made me deny my profession. What on earth could a innkeeper want from me? Possibly, a costumer had left without paying for what they had ingested. However, the fact that my amount of Septims was beginning to reach critically low levels. The last job had paid miserably low.

"That is correct." I said instead, turning my whole body as he now had my full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"It's about my son." Thoughts started spinning. Was he missing, had he wronged his father? "He wants to become an adventurer. However, I doubt he can look after himself. I need someone to follow him, look after him. He has agreed to this."

Well, this was an unexpected turn. It seemed like an interesting task to watch over a completely inexperienced adventurer in the quite dangerous world of Skyrim. But yet, I hesitated. How much was the father willing to pay for the protection of his son? This was extensive mission, it would stretch over a large amount of time. If, the other didn't get killed, of course. It was require more Septims than other, lesser jobs.

"What are you offering?" I said as I drummed my finger against my thigh. I noticed a tear in my armour and reminded myself to fix this later that night. A broken armour was useless.

"Five thousand Septims." The father said, his voice indicating that it was take it or leave it. There was no room for negotiations here. And it was a large amount of money. All doubt was swept from my mind and I rose.

"I'll be glad to look after your son for you. My name is Raven." I introduced myself as I grabbed my pack. "May I meet him?"

Relief spread over the older man's face. Apparently there was something about me which seemed to make him think that his son was in safe, secure hands. Little did he know that I had yet to complete any larger tasks. The most extensive quest I had completed was to retrieve a stolen piece of jewellery from a nest of bandits. It had been exciting, but over far too quickly.

With a short nod, the innkeeper started to lead me through the busy inn. His assistant took over behind the counter without a need to be ordered. The elder led me into a larger living area, where I assume he and his family spent their time when they weren't tending to the inn. Looking around the room for my protégé, my eyes landed on a young man with hair the colour of flames and eyes blue as the sky. He was around my own age, possibly a few years older.

"Erik, this is the woman who is going to accompany you." The innkeeper, placing a hand between my shoulder blades.

Erik's eyes scanned over my body. I felt as a livestock being up for sale, being examined by the farmer intending on buying her. Crossing my arms over my chest to shield his view, I bit my jaws hard together. His eyes drifted form my body up to my head. They scanned over my mostly shaved hair, except for an inch wide band of thick hair which went from my forehead down to my neck. His eyes then travelled to my eyes, and the warpaint covering my face.

"My name is Raven." I said, breaking the quietness in the room.

"I'm Erik." He reached out a large hand, which was calloused from the work around the inn, not from holding a sword. "Erik the Slayer."

It was difficult for me to keep my face straight as he told me about his name. It was obvious that he had made it up for himself, in order to feel more powerful and under the illusion that he was bringing terror into his opponents. But, I doubted this milk drinker had even slain a skeever. I returned his handshake, giving him a lopsided smile.

"It's very pleasant to meet you Erik. I hope we have great adventures together." We withdrew our hands.

"I am planning on setting off tomorrow. Are you ready for that?" The arrogant tone in his voice made my blood rise a bit.

"Of course I am." My tone turned sour.

"That's enough introductions." The father said, sensing the tensioning in the room. Ushering me out of the room, he closed the door behind us.

"I see why you need a sell sword to keep him safe." I said and turned around to him, blocking his way back into the inn. He looked at me with a slightly confused face as I blocked his path.

"Yes. He can become arrogant." After giving an answer, he once more attempted to get past me. Instead of stepping out of his way, I stretched out my palm. Finally, he realised what my intention was.

Muttering something about robbing him raw, he pulled out the bag of Septims and placed it in my hand. It felt nice and heavy as I weighed it in my palm. Brynjolf had taught me how to estimate the amount of Septims in a bag my simply looking at it, or feeling it. My estimate was that there was indeed five thousand Septims in it.

"Please to do business with you." I grinned as I started to make my way towards the room I had rented for the night. As I passed the inn's desk, I grabbed another small bag of Septims which was resting among the mead. Smiling to myself, I closed the door to my room and got undressed for the night.