Chapter Two
21 Sun's Height Fourth Era 221
The Pale, Skyrim

"I hope the Blackbriars are sent to the very depths of Oblivion!" Ralsa whispered furiously, as she and Tra-Vel trotted through the light snow.

"Ralsa, calm down." Tra-Vel said quietly.

"I shall not! They cheated us and forced us to leave the Rift. And after all that work we had to do to capture that damn-"

Tra-Vel urged his horse to ride in front of Ralsa's and stopped. The Dark Elf stared at him with her fiery eyes. "Ralsa, I know you're upset about the pay. Yes, they only gave us 300 septims out of the 900 septims they said they would give us. But we're talking about the Blackbriars. They have ties everywhere. Even if we could've taken all of the septims, fought our way through the town guards, and escape the Rift we would've been marked as criminals. And while you may not like your head, I would personally like to keep mine attached to my shoulders."

Ralsa looked down at her horse, and then rose back up to meet Tra-Vel's gaze. "You're right, Vel. I know how much you hate criminals, I shouldn't complain about it. Not after everything you've done for me."

Tra-Vel placed a hand on her shoulder and grinned. "Hey, you're my friend. And more than that, you're my partner. I'm not upset."

Ralsa nodded, and looked towards the sky as tiny white spots began to drift down on the wind. "It's starting to snow again" She pulled the hood up on her cloak.

Tra-Vel bared his teeth as he did the same. "This is the only reason why I hate Skyrim," he shivered as he maneuvered his steed from in front of Ralsa, allowing her to proceed again.

"You hate snow? If you can't stand it, why do we live in Winterhold?"

"Well, I don't exactly hate the snow. The coldness seeps into my scales, makes my body as stiff as a log and dries me out. My entire race is sensitive to cold weather; it makes us sluggish. But we can deal with the cold far better than the heat. That's why you never hear about Argonians traveling to Hammerfell that much."

Ralsa laughed, and rode forward until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Tra-Vel again. "I'm sure you would travel to Hammerfell if you ever got the chance."

"With all due respect, Ral, I prefer not being cooked."

She wrinkled her nose. "I could imagine the smell. Not a pleasant thought." Ralsa stared at Tra-Vel's cheek, where the scar from Maius's dagger was still trying to heal. "So, why do you live in Winterhold?"

"It's near the Sea of Ghosts, which I've always wanted to see ever since I was a hatchling. And the water is very clean, with plenty of old wrecks to explore and loot"

"You hate the snow, but you enjoy swimming in icy water?"

Tra-Vel shrugged, and a thin layer of frost on his forearms cracked. "I'm estranged that way I guess."

Ralsa nodded, and decided to stop asking questions. While Tra-Vel wasn't much of a conversationalist, he was the most talkative Argonian she had ever met. But she could tell that he was starting to get uncomfortable answering her questions.

The two rode in complete silence until Tra-Vel pointed at a small wooden cabin covered in snow near a bunch of trees. Behind the cabin was medium sized pond, iced over from the weather, and an old stable.

"There's my cabin," he said. "I don't like to stay in villages unless I have-" Suddenly, Tra-Vel broke out into a fit of coughing.

"Tra-Vel, what's the matter?" Ralsa inquired, worried about her friend. Her worriedness increased when Tra-Vel fell off his horse and into the snow, and coughed up a string blood from his mouth.

Ralsa immediately jumped off of her horse and crouched at Tra-Vel's side, pulling a small flask from her pocket and uncorking it in one fluid motion.

"Drink this, Vel. Come on!"

Tra-Vel coughed up another pint of blood before emptying the flask down his gullet. The coughing subsided as Tra-Vel took in a deep breath.

"Thank you, Ralsa. I completely forgot to bring that. Thank you for remembering."

"Of course I remembered! Vel, you should see a healer. This is getting more frequent-"

"No!" Tra-Vel said in sudden anger. "It's just the weather causing it to act up." Ralsa stared back at him, uncertain. "I'm serious, Ralsa. I am fine"

Ralsa nodded, and returned to her horse and mounted it. As she positioned herself more comfortably, she noticed something about her friend's cabin.

"Vel, I think we have a problem."

Tra-Vel turned to follow her gaze. She was right. Sitting on the steps of the cabin as they drew closer was a young Nord with short blond hair, and wearing simple attire. A small dog was sleeping in front of the man's feet. When he saw the two horses and their owners approach, he stood up and waved them down.

"Hello there!" he said. Tra-Vel dismounted and walked over to the Nord. "I've been waiting for you folks for hours."

"Um, thank you for waiting. Why are you here?" Tra-Vel asked politely. His right hand opened in anticipation to grab his battle-axe in case the man was a hired thug. He looked out of the corner of his right eye to see Ralsa on her horse, smoke steaming from her hands.

The Nord reached into his pocket, and pulled out a note which he presented to Tra-Vel. "You are Tra-Vel, Argonian of Black Marsh, are you not? It's sure hard to get a hold of you! This note has practically traveled halfway across Tamriel."

Tra-Vel frowned, but told the courier that he was indeed himself and accepted the note. The courier nodded. "Well then, I have to go. More letters to deliver" The Nord stood up and whistled, waking up his pup, and the two of them began to walk away.

Ralsa followed him with her eyes until he disappeared into the hills. "He was pretty lively." She clenched her hands to dispel the small fires she had ignited in her palms, then jumped down off of her horse. She stared at Tra-Vel. "What did he mean your letter has traveled halfway across Tamriel?"

"Exactly what he said." Tra-Vel said curiously. He showed her the letter, which was written on something that was certainly not paper. It had three letters, in common Tamrielic, written on it.

"See here? This one stands for Cyrodiil, and this one is for Morrowind, and the last one signifies Skyrim"

Tra-Vel grabbed his horse's reins and started to walk behind the cabin to the stables.

"Let's tie up the horses and take care of them first. Then we're going to read the contents of this letter. I have a bad feeling about this."

************************************************** ************************************************** ********************

Tra-Vel's cabin surprised Ralsa. She knew from experience that her lizard friend only cared about the simplicities to life, but his home was surprisingly elegant.

While the entirety of the cabin was made from wood, the inside was decorated with some of the most beautiful pieces of stone and greenery she had ever seen. Each corner of the room held a stone podium, with a stone carving of a kneeling Argonian warrior presenting an egg on top of each one. Underneath the podiums were stone pots filled with strange flowers. But the most beautiful thing of all was the hearth in the center of the room, which was surrounded by a moat of water and filled with fish. Hanging above the hearth was another stone object, a large disc with a terrifying Argonian face carved onto it. It faced the door.

"Tra-Vel," Ralsa whispered softly. "This is beautiful."

Tra-Vel nodded, and the Dunmer could tell he liked the comment. "Thank you. My…I brought it with me when I left the Marsh."

"So you could remember your home?"

Tra-Vel didn't answer, and sat down in a chair near the hearth, his letter clutched tightly in his claws. "The spare room is up the stairs. You should take your stuff and get acquainted with it"
Ralsa frowned, and stared at Tra-Vel. "Your fine, right Vel?" Tra-Vel looked up from the letter, which he had been staring at intently.

"Yes Ralsa, I'm fine." The Argonian went back to staring at the strange letter, and then turned back to Ralsa and smiled. "I'm fine, really." Ralsa seemed to like this answer, and went up the stairs, leaving Tra-Vel by himself.

Tra-Vel set fire to the hearth, illuminating the room. He then retrieved some dried salmon he had cut into slices pieces some days prior, carrots, apples, cabbage, and some exotic herbs from the pantry and proceeded to ready them for a stew. After several minutes of slicing and cutting, Tra-Vel placed the contents into a pot of water and hung them from the hearth, alongside a kettle of water for tea.

Once settled again in his chair, Tra-Vel reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. He had hidden his surprise and immediate dread off his face when he had first saw the note from Ralsa to avoid concerning her. She had been through enough lately.

The 'paper' the letter was made out of was either the skin of a Wamasu or a Pantu that had been boiled to the point where it had the same consistency of normal paper. Vel lifted the letter to his nostrils and a sharp sour smell made him recoil. Definitely Pantu skin, he thought to himself. He undid the small rope that kept the letter together, and examined the contents. It was written in Jel, insuring that only an Argonian was intended to read it.

My son, I believe that you have long passed the desired time of the Hiljatunei. You were still a hatchling when I sent you to learn from the Mer of the north and the Men of the west. But you have been gone for far too long. When I requested your return, you refused to follow my call and traveled further away. Why did you do that? Why did you not listen to me son? But now, you must return home. Our king is preparing to speak to all of our people in three days' time, and you must be there to hear it. This is not something you can, or should, ignore my son. I miss you. Your mother misses you. Please return to the Marsh. It is time.

The letter shook as the hands that were holding it began to tremor.