7
It was surprising how easily my life fell into a routine. After spending three years in a dark prison cell in Cyrodiil, I had learned to hate routine. I wanted to explore, to experiment, to do something new every day. I wanted to see new things and gain new experiences, perhaps to make up for the three years of my life that I had spent imprisoned. I hated the thought of living my life by a predictable schedule, and to have that schedule even partially dictated by the Imperial Legion made it even worse. When I thought about it, I realized that I had spent almost my entire adult life under the watchful eye of the Legion.
But somehow, I began to enjoy my time at Fort Frostmoth. I needed time to train and learn how to use a sword again, and an Imperial Fort was as good a place as any. And I had my freedom, even though there wasn't much opportunity to use it.
Each morning, I helped with breakfast and spent the rest of the morning exploring the nearby woods and shoreline. After lunch, I spent some time in the library studying or reading, or spending time with Gaea. She showed me around the entire fort and introduced me to most of the other guards. I was always busiest around dinner time, helping Liman with the preparation and the cleanup afterward.
Right after dinner I usually did my weapon training and exercises. I worked with my sword until I felt more proficient and confident, but I knew that slashing at an immobile target was hardly the best way to develop my skills. And when I was sure no one was around, I found some knives and practiced throwing them at the practice dummies. It was difficult, since the knives were not properly balanced for throwing, but after a couple days of practice, my skill started to come back naturally. Pretty soon I could whip the knives with reliable accuracy, although my arm strength and aim still some work. It would take months of practice before I was as good as I used to be.
After training, I would get cleaned up, and then in the evenings I spent time talking with Carius, or hanging out with Gaea and the other guards, playing cards and telling stories.
I also became the Command Office's unofficial messenger, taking notes and delivering information to almost everyone at the fort. I learned almost everyone's name that way, and the administrators and priests at the Imperial Cult got used to my presence there, going back and forth while I ran my errands.
"You know," I told Carius one afternoon while I sat in his office, "I think I should be getting paid for some of this work I'm doing."
Carius leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "I thought you were working to pay for room and board?"
"I'm working in the kitchen for that," I said. "I should be getting paid for all these errands I'm running for you."
"I suppose I can work something out," he said. "I'll talk with the treasury officer. Money is pretty tight, but I think I can swing a few septims a day or something."
"I'd appreciate it. I'd like to leave here with more money than I came with. I'll need it to afford passage to Skyrim."
"Are you still planning to leave in a few days when the supply ship comes back?"
"Pretty much," I said. "I don't see much reason to stick around, do you?"
"Oh, you know I do," he chuckled. "Maybe I can persuade you to stay for a little while. I'm sure I can come up with a good reason."
"Go ahead and try," I said with a smile.
I didn't exactly have any plans, just a general desire to return to my homeland in Skyrim. Although it was possible that I might not be very welcome there, I doubted that anyone would hold a grudge against me. And even if that was the case, it was still preferable to staying at Fort Frostmoth. As much as I enjoyed spending time with Carius and Gaea, I knew that I would tire of the place within a few weeks. There was simply not enough for me to do.
"Maybe I'll stay a couple of weeks," I admitted.
"That would be wonderful," Carius said, grinning broadly.
After all, I would need at least that long to get into proper fighting shape, and the training area was the perfect place to do it. And training with Imperial soldiers would be excellent experience if I ever needed to fight them again. And that depended on my reception back in Skyrim.
Carius sighed. "Carnius Magius will be here shortly. I have another meeting with him this afternoon. I know you don't like him, so if you want to get going before he gets here, that's okay."
"What are your meetings about?" I asked. "He works for the East Empire Company, right? They aren't really part of the Legion."
"I know, but Solstheim is an Imperial colony, and I'm the official Imperial representative here. They want to start up a mining operation here, so I'm the person they have to do all the negotiations with."
"Negotiations about what?"
"Oh, you know," Carius said, waving his hand. "About the mining rights, Imperial taxes, who shares in the profits. They'll need Legion help defending the operation, so that means assigning Imperial soldiers to a private enterprise, which means more paperwork and more fees and laws they have to follow."
"Defending it from what?" I asked. "Wolves and bears?"
"From the Nords, actually," Carius explained. "Now don't get offended. I know that you're a Nord."
"I'm not offended," I said. And it was true; I was actually rather pleased to think that the Legion had problems with the local Nords.
"Most of the Nords on Solstheim live in villages north of here, and for the most part, they leave us alone and we leave them alone. But there are a few loose tribes of berserkers, and we've heard rumors about a some kind of Nord cult."
"A cult?"
Carius shrugged. "I don't know, they're just rumors. A tribe of berserkers who worship werewolves. They try to get infect themselves with lycanthropy, but if they can't manage that, they dress up in wolf skins and act like animals."
"That's insane," I said.
"I know, but the East Empire Company is taking the threats seriously. They want Imperial guards at the mining site to defend it in case the berserkers cause trouble."
"Sounds like a lot of fun," I said sarcastically. "Where is this mine, anyway?"
"It's northwest of here, about five miles inland. A place called Raven Rock."
A knock on the door interrupted our conversation, as it usually did. The door opened and Carnius Magius came into the room, looking as weaselly as ever.
"I guess that means it's time for me to go," I said, standing up.
"Feel free to stay," Magius said with a grin, briefly touching my arm. "I'm sure you'll find our discussion fascinating, my dear Sasha."
"I'm not your dear," I said.
Magius laughed heartily, but not very sincerely. "Oh, I do love your little jokes. You have such a lovely sense of humor."
"See you later, Falx," I said on my way out the door.
The guards outside, having gotten used to my presence by now, nodding in greeting as I passed them. They were probably jealous about me spending so much time with their Captain and not with them. I left the command office building and walked out into the fort, clenching my fists at the blast of bitterly cold air that swept down across the open courtyard. My breath billowed away from my mouth in a white cloud.
I still had some time before supper, so I decided to take a walk beyond the fort. I headed out the northern gate and crossed my arms, bracing myself against the cold. Specks of snow drifted past me, blown from the branches of nearby trees. The cold felt good, reminding me of my roots. It had taken me a little while to get accustomed to the cold here on Solstheim, but I felt comfortable with it now.
My feet crunched on the icy ground as I walked along the tree edge, about a hundred feet from the walls of the fort. I caught a glimpse of movement in between the trees and tensed up, expecting a wolf or a bear. I put my hand down to my sword and curled my fingers around the hilt, waiting for more movement.
From around the side of a thick fir tree, a man appeared, wearing dark brown leather armor and large fur boots. He had a handsome face, long blonde hair that fluttered in a ponytail behind his head, and a longsword strapped across his back. He casually walked out into the open and looked over at me, an indifferent look on his face.
"Greetings," he said in a deep voice.
"Hello," I said, letting go of my sword. "Who are you?"
"My name is Reinhardt Red-Spear. You must be Sasha."
"How in the world do you know my name?" I asked, stunned.
"One of the guards mentioned you," he said with a shrug. "I came by the armory yesterday to get some repairs done and they told me about you."
"What did they tell you?"
"That you were a young, pretty Nord girl." He smiled briefly and glanced down at the sword at my hip, and my natural defensive posture. "Hmm, I wonder if maybe they underestimate you. I expected you to be some helpless city-born girl. I can see that's not the case, however."
"No, it isn't. I grew up in Skyrim."
"What is your surname?" he asked.
"Frost-Wind," I lied.
Reinhardt smiled, as if he caught the lie. I had the uncanny feeling that he knew who I was, but that was impossible. Of course, maybe he was from Skyrim as well. As unlikely as it seemed, the possibility existed that some of the Nords on the island might have heard of me, or at the very least, had heard of my father. I would have to be watchful of that in the future.
"Sasha Frost-Wind," he said. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
He extended his hand and I took it somewhat hesitantly. "Likewise," I said. "You told me your name, but who are you?"
"Just a traveler," he said, smiling briefly again. "I live up in the hills. I do some trading with the villages to the north and here at the fort. I also work as a guide to fellow travelers here on Solstheim. I do some work at Raven Rock as well."
"That's the mining operation, right?"
"Yes. They've found a rather large amount of ebony rock deep in the hills. Very valuable, or so I'm told. I'm afraid I don't have much use for ebony."
"You know the island pretty well, then?"
"Oh, yes. You might say I'm an expert."
"I heard a rumor today about a cult of Nords who worship werewolves. That sounds pretty crazy to me. Maybe you can tell me a little bit about it."
Reinhardt reached up to scratch idly at his cheek, looking toward the fort. "Well," he said, "It's a very strange thing. I haven't seen them myself, but it seems there is a group of men who dress up as wolves. Maybe they are Nords and maybe they aren't, I really can't say." He pursed his lips thoughtfully and glanced sideways at me, raising his eyebrows curiously.
I would have to keep an eye on this one. Reinhardt Red-Spear knew more than he was letting on, and he was being far too obvious about it. He might as well have winked at me. If he was trying to be discreet, he was doing a terrible job at it.
"I have to get going," I said. "I'm working in the kitchen at the fort."
"Well, I hope I'll see you around, then," Reinhardt said.
"Yeah, maybe we can talk about that cult some more."
"I'd love to. I'm a bit of a historian, actually. I know lots of things about Solstheim and Nord history that I would love to discuss."
"I bet you do."
"Have a good day, Sasha," he said, giving me a slight bow.
As I headed back toward the fort, Reinhardt called back to me. I turned to see him standing among the trees, his blonde ponytail shipping past his face.
"Try not to get any snowon your crown," he called out.
With that, he walked off into the forest, and within a few moments was already out of sight, hidden among the trees. I stood in place for a little while, letting the cold air blow past me, although I barely felt it. I stared at the trees and slowly shook my head, and then regretted it, because it occurred to me that Reinhardt was probably watching me at that moment to see my reaction. Of course, he may have been so certain that he didn't even bother.
Try not to get any snow on your crown, indeed. It was a cute little phrase, and would have gone over the head of anyone who might have heard us talking. But Reinhardt knew I would recognize what he was really saying to me.
Snow-Crown was my actual last name. Reinhardt knew who I was after all.
"Damn," I whispered.