Thank you to AsparagusZeTurkey for reviewing!

I do not own anything you remotely recognize, since those probably belong to Bethesda Softworks, the company that made Morrowind. The unnamed character is my own, and that's about all I own.

Note: Whenever it says "the male," that signifies the main character. "He" in ambiguous circumstances generally refers to the main character also, unless it is clearly not so from the context.

A grim smile flashed on the face of the young male before it disappeared immediately. He suppressed any outward expression of the glee he felt inside, knowing that to appear anything other than angry and miserable would earn the suspicion of his fellows. Despite the shift in his countenance, his mind was still laughing at the ineptitude of the guards and merchants in their response to his latest feat. Leaning against the crumbling stone wall in a narrow alley, he turned over the events of the day in his head.

Earlier that morning, he had penetrated deep into the wealthy section of the capital city, heading directly to the fine clothier. Next to this shop was the weapon smith, to whom he would pay a visit shortly after. Once he reached the square where the merchants were located, he straightened his stance and sauntered nonchalantly to the entrance of the clothing store. Dressed in expensive shirt, pants, shoes, and robe he had taken from a caravan the week before, he looked much like everyone else in the area. In the deep pockets of his robe were clinking pieces of septims. Fake, of course, but even to the experienced eye, they appeared authentic. Only he knew they were worth less than muck, for he made them himself. Clearing his throat, he opened the door and was instantly greeted with brilliant colors of all hues imaginable. Bolts of fabric were stacked in a storage area near the back while the counter was drenched in a beam of sunlight from a high window.

"Greetings," the storekeeper, a medium-height Imperial woman, said, "How may I help you?"

This was the hardest part. The rich fools had a distinctive, imperious accent that he could not imitate, try as he might. As a result, any verbal communication would have to be short. In fact, not to speak at all would be ideal.

"Sera?" the woman inquired.

The young male narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin, copying the attitude of the nobles and guards who occasionally graced his canton with their presence. He gestured at the fabrics in the back and indicated his shirt. By not speaking, he thought the storekeeper would conclude he was mute. He was right. She blinked and gaped at him for several second, then grew red.

"Oh, sera, I am so sorry," she hurriedly said. "Please, point and I will fetch the materials you desire."

Forcing a smile he hoped was conciliatory, he inclined his head in the direction of a radiant golden cloth. Then, indicating his pants and robe, he pointed at a bolt of deep blue material. The clothier, meanwhile, was bustling about, responding to his every look and gesture. After gathering the two colors, she spoke again.

"I have not seen you around, so you are probably new around here," she said. "Please allow me to take your measurements."

He took a deep breath and nodded once in agreement. With any luck, the dunks he took at a river outside the city gates would pay off, because people who lived in his run-down canton with its exploding rat population tended to emit a certain odor that was easily detectable. Fortunately, the half hour he spent submerged or partially submerged in the freezing water had washed the stench off him. The woman did not smell a thing.

After measuring him, the Imperial told him the clothing would be ready by next week. Expecting the long wait, he had planned out his next steps carefully. Gathering an angry storm in his eyes, he emphatically shook his head no.

"Uh, sera, it takes time to make exquisite clothing. You must understand, there are other customers, some who have been waiting days already," she tried to explain.

Setting his lips in a thin line, he still shook his head.

"I would ask you to have just a little bit of patience," she tried once again. "They will be worth the wait."

Sighing in feigned frustration, he waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal, indicating he did not want to have his clothing made any more. Then, taking great care to walk quietly and with dignity, he turned around and made his way to the door. Along the way, he slipped his hand into his pocket and jangled the coins, making sure the clinking sound was audible throughout the room.

"Sera!" the fine clothier called out. "With some compensation, I might be able to…"

With his back still to the woman, he smiled, then let it fade and turned back towards the counter. He took out 40 jade green and gold coins and laid them on the counter.

"Your clothes will be ready by tomorrow."

He shook his head and started gathering up the coins, but doing it slow enough so that the merchant would have sufficient time to stop him again.

"I shall begin right away and you can retrieve them this evening…"

The original 40 coins were joined by 10 more on the wood panel. He pretended to hesitate, then took out 20 more coins.

"… this afternoon, sera."

He inclined his head and strode out of the store. He could hear her calling out something about it being nice to do business with him, but his mind was already preoccupied with thoughts of the weapons shop next door.

To him, his plan was simple and brilliant. He would order a set of clothing and in the time it took for them to be made, he would loot the weapons shop. "Loot" might not be the right word, since he aimed to do it so discreetly that no one would notice anything was amiss. If all went as planned, he would soon be on his way to unknown power and influence. With the proper garments and dazzling weapons, he knew he could impress (or frighten) most people enough to get what he wanted out of them. It was a tactic he had seen often enough, usually employed by filthily wealthy nobles against the traders near his hideout. These were traders who scraped by on a few coins a day, barely able to feed their hungry children.

The male shook his head to clear away the image of famished children gazing out of empty eyes. They were not his worries. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand—acquiring power. He would use the nobles' own strategies against them, he would throw their taunts in their own faces, he would outwit each and every one of them, and he would prevail. Too long had they lorded their status over him, and now he was ready to strike back.

Surveying the front of the weapons store, he waited for the right moment. He did not have to wait long, lounging casually against the door of the clothier, before a potential customer, a High Elf, went into the shop. Counting softly under his breath, he reached "five" and strode to the entrance, grabbing the door which was about to close behind the customer.

Upon his entry, the weapon smith, who was a female Redguard, looked up from the sword she was examining with the Altmer.

"I shall be with you in a moment, serjo," the merchant said.

Nodding, he stood behind the Altmer and glanced around the room. It was rectangular, with a set of stairs behind the counter, presumably leading to the Redguard's living quarters. To his right, there were multiple shelves filled with an assortment of blades, darts, and bows. Immediately to his right, near the door, stood an Imperial guard who looked like he would rather be at a bar, sipping away at a bottle of shein. To his left… Perfect! There was a small alcove that extended back from the counter. If he ducked into it, he would be out of the guard's line of vision.

He slowly made his way to the left side of the room, pretending to be interested in the blunt weapons displayed there. He picked up a mace and weighed it in his hand, then replaced it on the shelf. All the while, he could feel the guard's eyes boring holes in his back, but that was of no great significance, since he was the only moving object in the room at the moment, and bored people tended to look at moving things. To show the guard that he was not a threat, he inspected every single piece of item on one shelf, then moved on to the next. Pretty soon, he could tell the guard was growing tired of his inspection because the feeling of someone staring at him was gone. Seizing the moment, the male scooted into the alcove and backed into the corner. So far, so good.

Reaching into his robe, he withdrew a bottle and uncorked it, swirling the contents inside. It was a Standard Potion of Invisibility, which he had been saving for just the right time. Holding the bottle to his lips, he was prepared to drain it all before he paused. He would only have 35 seconds to swipe the weapons and exit the shop, so everything would have to be planned out and coordinated beforehand. Corking the bottle once more, he considered what to do.

The Altmer had finished the transaction and was now browsing the wares. If there was ever a time to act, it would be now.

He uncorked the bottle once more and drained it in one swallow. When he brought his hand up to the level of his chest, it was no longer visible. Knowing he had precious few seconds to accomplish what he wanted, he swiftly dashed towards the weapons, quickly considering which items to make off with. He never had any professional arms training; no one in his canton could afford such lessons. Therefore, he had not the slightest idea whether he had skill with blade or bow or staff, so he would have to take one of each kind. In less than half a minute, a silver dagger, a steel claymore, a bonemold long bow, an orcish battle axe, and a dreugh club had made their way inside his robe. Just when he was contemplating taking a few darts, he almost failed to notice that his fingers were slowly reappearing. When he did, he could feel his heart in his throat; he had stayed too long. It would only be about five seconds before his whole person would become visible.

Running hastily toward the door, he found his way blocked by the Altmer who had one hand on the doorknob and was turned towards the merchant, taking his sweet time saying farewell. In one rapid maneuver, the male spun the High Elf around and jerked the door open, all while invisible. Before making good his escape, he slipped a hand into the Altmer's robe and deposited the silver dagger there. It was a costly sacrifice, but arrest would be an even costlier alternative.

Moments later, safely hidden behind the weapons shop, he heard a cry of "Help! Thief! Guards!" Suddenly, a great clatter filled the streets as armored guards poured into the area and into the shop.

"There is no escape! Surrender now!" the guards cried.

Soon, the male could see the commotion from his hiding place. The Altmer was held between two guards, who were not at all gentle in their treatment. The two guards, the now-prisoner, and their escort made their way towards the town center, where the jail was located. He was about to emerge from his spot when he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he saw it was the High Elf staring at him. There was nothing but burning hatred in those eyes. He met the stare, acting as though he had nothing to fear, though his inside had turned softer than squib jelly. Never before had he been so thankful at the sight of those bracers on someone else, draining away deadly magicka that could surely have reduced him to a pile of ashes before he had time to say "Tiber Septim." The Altmer would have been a formidable enemy indeed.

After he had recovered sufficiently from the unnerving gaze, he ate some bread the local baker had wastefully thrown away. The chewing motion calmed him further. Waiting until the sun had traveled further towards the horizon, he had gone to the clothier to collect his clothing, an altogether uneventful transaction that depleted his supply of counterfeit coins. The package tucked under his arm, he had carefully clung to the shadows and overhangs of buildings until he reached the poorer sections of the city, where he now leaned against the wall of a narrow alley.

Tomorrow, he would start his new life. Tonight, he would simply savor the success of his undertaking.

What do you think? Is this story worth continuing?

Was it too drawn out?

Comments, questions, suggestions are welcome.