Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. It's been almost two weeks since my last posting. Things have been on hold while I rewrite the next story (ever end up looking at something you've done and just not been happy with it?) and draft the followups. As always I'm thrilled to welcome every follower and offer my gratitude for every favorite, so clobber those buttons at the bottom of the page. Even better, post a review! I'm always willing to hear your thoughts on how I can make my work better. Readers have made a huge difference in the past. Thanks for reading and I'll post again soon.
"Good morning Maven," I slurred from my chair before the foot of her bed. Some of the clots in my wound had burst with the motion of my mouth, allowing warm blood to begin trickling down my face again. I gave Maven my most fearsome scowl, even though any expression other than total neutrality caused the damaged muscles of my jaw to ache.
She woke with a start and with the unaccustomed weight of her thugs' weapons and armor over her blankets. It had taken Aela, Aerin, and I the rest of the night to silently break into her house and place the pieces of iron and leather gently on her bed. There had been a moment of panic before we realized she slept with her eyes open. The message I was sending her now was worth the effort and risk. A few pieces clattered to the floor when she sat up to look at the scowling, angry man with a bleeding face and filthy armor that had broken into her bedroom.
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, "I didn't appreciate you sending those thugs after me and my friends last night. I've got a lot of things on my plate right now, so I need to end this feud of ours quickly," I held up a curved finger to point at her for emphasis, my voice dropping by degrees to the rough growl that only comes out when I'm furious, "Now you. Listen. Good: Don't fuck with me. I will leave you poorer than the crazies in the Ratway if you cross me again," I let the threat sink in for a moment before continuing, "You will find a way in coming weeks to apologize to me publically and gracefully. And remember: Try anything against me and mine again, and I will ruin you."
I walked out of her house by the front door and went to sleep off the morning at Aerin's place.
Lydia, Esbern, Aela, and I spent the rest of the day preparing for our march to Riverwood to meet Delphine. We had decided on using a less popular, but more direct route that would keep us in the southern most portions of the Rift and so cross the Jearl Mountains south of High Hrothgar before coming to Riverwood. My original leather armor was so worn and rotten it wasn't worth selling. I tossed it and tried on the Thieves' Guild uniform instead. The padded armor and hood reeked of enchanting. The Guild's hood came low over my eyes and its cloth material matched the cuirass and greaves of the armor perfectly. The black and red gauntlets and boots of the Dark Brotherhood completed the comfortable and practical outlay. To keep up tradition, I had a local smith carve a red diamond into the right shoulder pad. Standing in front of the mirror in Aerin's house, I beheld an intimidating figure that became handsome with the removal of the hood.
Later in the afternoon, I was able to detach from my group and go to the local church. I've stated earlier that I am not comfortable with organized religion. This lack of comfort arises more from my personality rather than any lack of faith or animosity towards the cults of the Divines. While I do not participate, I do respect the churches. I know that in any of the temples to the Divines, I will be made welcome.
Such was the case at the Temple of Mara in Riften. The day's services had let out and the acolytes had time to speak with a smitten young man. I sat on one of the pews with Maramal, one of those worthy acolytes.
"Tell me young man," he said, "What brings you to the Temple of Mara?"
"Well sir, I'm only recently come to Skyrim. But early on in my time here, I encountered a Nord woman."
The Redguard priest smiled, "You are not the first Imperial man to lose his heart to a fierce shield-maiden of the North. The issue seems simple enough: Mara has shown you one to love. Go to her."
"And that is the issue sir. Back home I barely understood the courtship rules. I knew just enough to not be totally unsuccessful. But here I'm completely out of my depth. For all I know it was just a one-time event." I'd had too many women use me that way.
The middle-aged Redguard nodded his understanding. "You'll find things are much simpler here in Skyrim," Maramal replied, "Life here is hard and often cut short. There is no time for a long, careful courtship. If you have found someone you are interested in, you simply wear an amulet of Mara and approach her and ask if she feels the same way. To improve your chances, remember that Nords are a people who respond to deeds. If you have done something she respects or finds admirable, she will be very inclined to say yes."
I dug out my coin-purse. "How much for an amulet?" I asked.
"200 Septims and I'll even throw in some advice for free," Maramal replied.
"What is that advice?" I asked as I counted the necessary coins.
"Mara has spoken to me about you at length. She knows how badly you have been hurt by the two you loved most. She knows your disappointments with a dozen others. She knows that you have been avoiding love for a long time now. She knows that you are terrified of being disappointed again," Maramal said to me.
I looked down at my knees and knew the truth in his words. It always seemed that those two had laid a curse on my love life that I could not break. The priest continued, "Lady Mara has bidden me tell you to let go of your terror. She has a love set aside for you, but it will not come to fruition unless you act against your fears."
I looked at the simple necklace in my hand, "I have every intention of asking for this woman's hand," I said, "But I want to do so when the time is ripe. When I feel ready for it. Able to offer her something more than the life of a wandering soldier."
Maramal frowned at me, "You have been feeding yourself that same self-pity since Diana broke your heart seven years ago, and there was a gap of another five between Lykiska and her. All that time caused by the same terror."
Shocked by how much the man knew about my past and having no excuses, I clutched the amulet and departed for the local jeweler in silence.
I had originally thought to have our group take turns riding the horses the Dark Brotherhood left us, but Lydia's common sense prevailed. Our horses were instead loaded down with the supplies we would need to get to Riverwood.
The southern portion of the Rift is a beautiful wooded country overlooked by the Jerall Mountains that separate Skyrim from Cyrodiil. The roads are in regular repair to handle the caravans that carry goods between the two provinces. Naturally, violence is common as the Stormcloaks seek to disrupt Imperial commerce and the Legion seeks to counter them.
The three of us listened politely to Esbern's continual flow of chatter. He was a social creature for whom booze had never been an adequate friend. The years of hiding in the Ratway had been a trial on his sanity. As we marched along, we got to hear what seemed to be every exploit of the Blades from their arrival on Tamriel forward. At last as the sun set on the third day out from Riften, the torrent of his voice slowed to a trickle that allowed the rest of us to participate and get his views on recent events.
Esbern insisted that we camp at Autumnwatch Tower, a small redoubt a few miles south of the road. Being so hidden, we thought to all be rested for tomorrow's approach to Arcwind Pass. The old scholar almost dragged me by the wrist to the top of the intact tower. There was a word wall cut into the face of the mountain just above the tower's parapet. The smell of damp wood burning wafted up from where Aela and Lydia had a fire going for the evening.
"I've wondered about this wall since the first days of my exile," Esbern explained to me. "The ancient Nords left so little behind over the years. I was wondering if you could read it since you're dragonborn."
"It doesn't all come at once," I explained. "The old Nords were a grim people from what I've read on the handful of these walls I've found. I pointed to each of the words that appeared to glow at me from the wall. The words that stand out here are krii, lun, and aus. Kill, leech, and suffer."
The whole wall's meaning came apparent after a moment's concentration. "One may kill with more than steel: Here fell Ulf the Quarrelsome to the witchcraft of the Deep-folk. Long did he suffer when the leech failed to cure him," I translated the grim testament.
Esbern nodded soberly, "The chroniclers among the Akaviri were shocked by the brutality of the wars between the Nords and their Elf neighbors," he remarked.
Our curiosity satisfied, we descended to the fire where Aela and Lydia had skinned a few hares for the evening meal.
I woke with a headache and blurred vision in a small shack. As my head cleared, I saw a female form lounging on a shelf. She was wearing a familiar black and red armor.
"Sleep well?" she asked in a sultry feminine voice. What little of her face I could see was alive with sky blue eyes and burn scars.
"Where am I?" I croaked. The room swam. Whatever drug she had used to subdue me made my body feel like it had been stuffed with sand and alcohol.
"You're safe for the moment," she replied, "The effects of the laudanum will wear off soon. I didn't give you that much. In the meantime, we have business to conduct.
"Do tell Speaker," in hindsight, it was not wise to be sarcastic to a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, but the drug had yet to leave my system.
"You terrified the poor boy sent to kill you," She purred, "Especially in light of recent events. You got the Listener's attention though, and the Brotherhood is willing to waive your contract... For a price. Look behind you."
Obeying, I beheld three people on their knees. Each was bound with their hands behind their backs and a sack over their heads.
"You see, we can't just let you go. There is a legitimate contract on your life. It would be bad for our reputation if it became known that we dropped contracts just because someone asked."
My head finally cleared and my stomach sank as I figured out where this was going.
"One contract in exchange for another," she whispered in my ear, so close I could feel her hot breath, "One of these people has a contract on their lives. Find out which one and kill."
Talk about awkward moments. I looked over my three options. One was a man in nondescript scale armor and visibly weeping with fright. Next to him was an old woman who held her head up to us even though the sack was tight over her face. The third was a Khajiit who held himself in a relaxed posture.
I walked up to the armored man. He shrank back at the sound of my approach.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I... I'm nobody," he stammered, "I'm just a mercenary."
"Any specific reason someone would want you dead?" I asked.
"I don't know! I'm a mercenary, I kill. It's what I do. Maybe there were times... times I got carried away? But war is war right?"
I shifted over to the old woman. "You should be ashamed," she snapped at the sound of my approach.
"And who are you?" I asked.
"None of your damn business. And before you ask, no, I don't know who would want me dead. I'm too busy at the orphanage keeping those unwanted brats in line to make enemies."
"Coward," she spat as I stepped over to the Khajiit.
"And what's your story?" I asked.
"I am Vasha," he said, "An obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters.
"You seem pretty calm about this."
"My friend, if I go a month without being bagged and dragged, I start to wonder if I'm losing my edge."
"Any particular reason someone would want you dead?"
"Fool! Don't you get it?" he sneered, "I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, a knocked arrow on every rooftop! If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult. Tell you what: let me go and I won't have my people hunt you down and carve my name on your corpse."
I drew my dagger from its sheath and stepped behind my victim. I pushed the head forward as far as reflexive resistance would allow. The blade went smoothly up through the base of their skull. A few spasms and a twist later, it was over.
A quiet clapping from the Speaker's hands filled the otherwise silent shack.
"Interesting choice. The frail old woman who was spending her remaining years looking after orphaned children," she said.
"Well? Did she have a contract on her or not?" I asked.
The masked woman shrugged slowly. "That's really immaterial. What is important is that you killed on command without mercy or regret. Sithis is pleased today. Consider yourself among the living again, congratulations. And welcome to the Family. Now if you'll excuse me," she said as she drew an elegant black dagger, "I have a coward who abandoned his friends to die and a rapist to finish."
I shut the door behind me as Vasha began screaming.
I discovered the road not far from the abandoned shack the Brotherhood had taken me to and by the drag marks; I easily made my way back to our camp. The three of them were sitting down to breakfast as I came up.
"Where've you been?" Lydia asked.
"Did any of you notice signs of other people nearby last night? Tracks? Noises?" I asked.
The three of them shook their heads.
"Spooky," I commented, rubbing the diamond on my shoulder like a worry-stone, "But anyway, good news: the Dark Brotherhood is no longer after me."
"Do we want to know the price of this freedom?" Esbern asked.
I shook my head, "It was nobody who didn't have it coming to them."
Am I the only one who thought it was crap you couldn't force Astrid to live with her betrayal? I remember being at the end of that questline, casting Healing Hands and saying, "No! No easy out for you!" And if any of you are feeling a bit confused by the Maramal scene, don't think on it too much. Instead recall that this story is a glimpse into the life of a guy almost 30 years old. At this stage Ieago's personality is as much a product of his past insecurities as it is of his professional and personal triumphs.