Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Hey everybody thanks as always for reading and particularly to Wolfisboy15 for the fave & follow. I think I'll be posting a few times this week. I'm hoping if that if I get a good chunk of this story down, I'll be more motivated to finish the sequels. I'm thrilled that so many people are reading Ieago's adventures and I hope I continue to entertain.
Silence ruled while we made our way out of the Karthspire. The morning had passed by, leaving a tranquil summer afternoon polluted by the bodies of the Reachmen and the bones of dragons. At last as the four of us joined the main road toward Markarth, Iona dared to break the brooding quiet.
"Someone want to tell me what that was about?" she asked.
I sighed deeply and strode on for a few more paces, listening to the waters of the Karth River keep pace with us on our trek west. In truth I was still not sure myself.
"She's spent almost thirty years of exile praying for a savior," I replied at last. "But now that she knows I'm all she's getting, she knows a savior isn't really what she wanted."
"Then what did she want?"
I thought for a moment, trying to put my impressions into words.
"She wanted a weapon," I said at last, "Something to stab into the heart of everything that destroyed her world. But I can't offer her that. Nothing I can do will ever rebuild the life she knew when I was an infant. And I don't think that this dragon crisis can be solved by killing everything she thinks is her enemy."
"So what are you then?"
I winced and rubbed the red diamond etched into my pauldron before speaking slowly.
"Back in Cyrodiil, I was vain enough to think I was a holy crusader. Fighting The Good Fight against those bastard Thalmor. In my first real test, I had my ass handed to me. I got people killed, even killed people who weren't my enemies. Here in Skyrim, I'm under a lot of pressure to live up to that vanity. If I fail against Alduin, no other conflict will matter. Not this feud between the Nords and the Forsworn, not the Civil War, not the Empire against the Thalmor. And I feel myself being called into each conflict. One after the other. I'll need the grace of all the gods to get through all this."
"We're with you, Ieago," Lydia said, putting her hand on my back.
"I expected nothing less, Lydia. I'll need every ally I can find. Every friend, housecarl, and Companion."
In that fatalistic mood, the four of us pressed on for Markarth.
We came in sight of the city just as the white afternoon sun touched the tips of the mountains before us. There is no more glorious moment for the famed City of Stone. For a few brief moments the waterfalls and stone of Markarth glow white in the descending sun, filling the shadowed valley with light. The brassy metal plates on the roves of the city's innumerable spires flare brightly, bathing the narrow streets in yellow and gold. Yet the city's soul was more rotten than Riften's. Glad to be near the trappings of civilization however, that reflection was far from my thoughts as we passed through the final wall and into the city's cramped market.
And just in time to foil a murder.
My party and I were barely five paces into the city when I saw a young man in worker's clothing pull out a dagger and advance on a woman facing a jewelry stall. I opened my mouth just as he put one arm around her neck and begin to pull her onto the dagger he was about to thrust into her back.
"Wuld!" I shouted. My sudden dash crashed me into them at an angle, breaking his grip on the woman. He was about to turn the dagger on me when the arrows of five town guards perforated his body.
"Forsworn!" The man screamed with his dying breath.
A crowd of locals began to gather around the remnants of the altercation. I looked more closely at the young man. He was a Breton, old enough to no longer be a boy but not yet a grown man. His skin and clothing were filthy from work in the mines. I heard the word 'Forsworn' whispered nervously through the crowd.
"Move along people, there are no Forsworn here!" A guard shouted at the crowd as he broke through to the scene of the young man's death. "And you," he pointed at me, "We're watching you. You make any more trouble here, you go to Cidhna Mine."
For once I was sensible enough to keep my mouth shut. This guard in Markarth green and a face-covering helmet was not one of the Blackbriar clan's impotent men or a Nord looking for an excuse to pick a fight with an Imperial. There was something in this man's voice that made me take him more seriously. This wasn't some bully trying to feel better about himself. This was a man who could and would make my head touch my ass if I pissed him off. I bowed my submission to the law and turned to my companions. I had just opened my mouth to ask them what they saw when a Breton Lydia's age came up to me.
"Gods! A woman attacked right on the streets. Are you all right? Did you see what happened?" He asked me.
I shook my head, "It was too quick," I said. "I saw a man pull a knife on a woman from behind. That's all I had time for. Sorry."
"You don't have to say sorry to me. I just hope the Eight bring us more peace in the future. Oh, I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important."
"Do you know anything about this attempted murder?" I asked him. Folding the note he had planted on me into a pouch on my armor.
He answered me almost before I was done asking the question, "No. I was just getting some fresh air. Had one too many pints of mead at the Silver-Blood Inn. I have to get to work; I hope the rest of your day is better." He practically ran away from my companions and me.
"What an odd person," Iona commented as we stepped into one of the few unoccupied spaces on the edge of the market square.
"And he's scared shitless," I replied, looking up from the man's letter. "He wants me to meet him alone at the shrine of Talos tonight."
"But there are no shrines to Talos anymore," Lydia said woodenly as an Altmer in a distinctive black and yellow robe passed by.
I waited until the tall elf was well away before continuing. "Back home in Cyrodiil, after the Thalmor began their crackdown on Talos worship, people found ways to advertise their faith. The most common sign was hanging dragon's tongue flowers to a dry in a window. Is there something like that in Skyrim?"
The three women looked decidedly uneasy and for good reason. I doubt there was a citizen in any of the remaining Imperial provinces that didn't know of someone who had been made to disappear in the night by a Thalmor Justiciar.
"Any shrine kept in-city will likely be near the public temple," Aela volunteered.
"I'll know where to look then," I commented, "Let's get some rooms for the night and then get to work."
I was surprised to discover just how public Talos' shrine was in a city with visible Thalmor agents. The stone chamber housing an eight-foot statue of the Ninth Divine was directly beneath the Temple of Dibella in a wide tunnel that saw frequent foot traffic. Leaving my housecarls and Aela outside, I went in. Hidden in the dim candle light I heard the man who give me the note whisper to himself, "An outsider. Dangerous-looking. He'll do."
"What will I do?" I asked.
The stranger scowled at me. "You want answers? Well so do I. So does everyone in this city. A young man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess," he replied, pacing in his frustration.
"How long has this been going on?"
"This has been going on for years," he elaborated. "And all I've been able to find is murder and blood. I need help. Please. You find out why that woman was attacked, who's behind the Forsworn, and I'll pay you for any information you bring me."
Common sense told me to cut him off and leave. I had my own quest to see through and a list of enemies a mile long already. "You've looked into these murders?" I found myself saying instead.
"Yes. It all started when I was a boy. My father owned one of the mines. Rare for anyone who isn't a Nord. He was killed. Guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I've been trying to find out why ever since. Gotten nowhere so far, and then I got married. Have a child of my own on the way. I swore I was going to just give up, for my child's sake, but it's like my father's ghost is haunting me, asking me "Why?"
"Who was that man in the market? Where did he live?"
"He was one of the smelter workers. I used to have a job down there myself, casting silver ingots. I never knew much about him.
"What do you know about the woman he attacked?"
"She's not from Markarth. The air about her screamed "outsider." Visitors to the city usually stay at the Silver-Blood Inn."
"I'll see what I can find out," I promised.
I know I know: The Forsworn quest had little to do with the main questline, but it does serve a few purposes in my story. I promise.