Blacklight was seemingly untouched by the Oblivion Crisis. It seemed that the Redoran did a good job protecting the city. It was a thriving and bustling city, Dunmer selling their wares on the street while several of the many tourists from Skyrim now flooding in perused the wares. Jobasha and Quill-Weave were quite relieved to see that no one had bindings or masters tugging them along on leashes. They wouldn't stand out.
The first order of business was to dry themselves. The fire in their room at the Frozen Guar Cornerclub did a near-good job of drying them off, though Jobasha's fur stayed uncomfortably moist. Their mood was lightened greatly by some hot food – an odd mix of Skyrm-style Horker and Saltrice all fried together with some local vegetables. Of course, with having spent the money for the room and food, that left little remaining funds for clothes, save for some… substandard substitutes.
At least, Quill-Weave thought they were substandard as she constantly readjusted her chafing towel.
"In Elsweyr, it is common for communal nudity." Jobasha said, trying for the seventh time to persuade Quill-Weave to let him ditch the towel. An Argonian from Black Marsh may not have objected, but Anvil was a far stuffier and pretentious place when it came to nudity.
"Look, this towel is scratchy and uncomfortable and… and very, very small… But we're keeping these on until we find clothes. So aside from these towels and a warm bed for the night, what do we have?"
"These two have… er… Aha!"
"What the – Just where were you hiding that lockpick?!"
"Spend time with the…" He pointed at two different candles on separate tables, contained in lanterns, "And you learn trade secrets."
"…Just what is your involvement with them?" Quill-Weave said, carefully leaning over to check how dry their clothes were.
"Ah ah ah! Perhaps when we are out of Morrowind. Never know when a Telvanni is spying, yes?" Jobasha chuckled, exaggeratedly cupping a claw over his ear towards the window.
"Spying for runaway slaves, or nude people?" Quill-Weave scoffed jokingly. "Alright, alright… So aside from the lockpick?"
"Jobasha thinks there is nothing else."
"…Nothing at all?"
Jobasha shook her head, Quill-Weave groaning. "Okay. So… We have no money – that we didn't have to pay for the room, mind you."
"No wares for sale."
"No clothes-"
"Enough about clothes!" Jobasha sighed. "Jobasha assumes we do not have the note Curio gave us?"
"Well, that got wet, yeah. Buuuuuut…"
Jobasha raised an eyebrow at Quill-Weave, who moved the side of her towel. He was about to protest until he saw that there were words written on her upper leg. They were hard to make out, but he managed to catch glimpses of College of Winterhold, Password: Barenziah in Daggerfall, and The Frozen Hearth.
Quill-Weave simply smirked as she readjusted her towel. "One time I was taking a break when I was studying something. A mudcrab stole my satchel with my notes while I was eating. Scales got used to the feeling of waterproof ink since then, just in case."
"Unorthodox, but… effective, Jobasha supposes." He murmured, looking back at the fire.
The silence went on for a while, being filled with an occasional sneeze or shiver from Jobasha and the crackling of the fire. For the moment, the two tried to forget about the reaver attack, but it kept nagging at the back of their heads, filling the room with an uncomfortable air.
"…Does Quill-Weave suppose the boat made it safely?"
"I'm… I'm really not sure." She sighed. "Our first day and we're attacked by pirates. It's all lot to take in."
Jobasha nodded in agreement, though out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed what he understood to be what passed for an Argonian's smile.
"Is Quill-Weave okay?"
Quill-Weave coughed, looking down. "I mean… It was exciting, wasn't it?"
"What?!"
"Pirates, Jobasha! That's the stuff you hear about in books. I always thought I'd have to go to Stros M'Kai to see pirates."
"Quill-Weave…" Jobasha murmured. "How much does this one know about such things?"
"Such… things?"
"Pirates. Crime. All of that stuff."
Quill-Weave darted up from her chair, her towel barely falling off. "Ooh! Lots of stuff. I've done my research and-"
"Research aside." Jobasha said. "What is the term – The nitty gritty of it. Having to duck from the law and such."
"E-er… Well, I never committed any real crimes but I know lots of…" Quill-Weave sighed. "Discreet informants?"
Seeing Jobasha's tilted ears, Quill-Weave continued. "Not slavers or assassins or anything, of course. Just some beggars who get desperate and thieves and… skooma deale-"
"Skooma dealers?!"
"Just one!" She yelled, perhaps a bit too defensively. "Trust me, if there was a way to safely approach anyone higher up for material, I would. But I don't want to find myself a corpse washing up against Hammerfell's beach, or another slaver's product. By Oblivion, the worst I did was buy some drugs when I was a teen."
Jobasha raised an eyebrow. "Skooma?"
"N-no. Something else. Something a little… worse?" Quill-Weave coughed. "But that's the stuff I want to see! The real, gritty crime world!"
"All for the sake of books?"
"You sell books, don't you? The better and more accurate books people write, the more people buy them. And the more people buy them, the more septims you make. Right?"
Jobasha was silent for a while, wondering whether to agree with Quill-Weave or press further on her reckless viewpoint.
He opted to laugh instead. "Well, I'm sure this one will have a field day when Winterhold is in sight. Jobasha knows he will have much things he would write about, like that… white sand?"
"Y-you mean snow?" Quill-Weave said, stifling a laugh.
Jobasha scoffed, standing up and heading towards one of the two beds laid out for them. "Well, whatever it is called, these two will see it soon, no? Jobasha figures the earlier rest comes, the more light there is for… however we are getting to Winterhold."
Quill-Weave, as she took off her towel and slunk into the fur covers of the bed, suddenly had that thought dash through her mind.
"That's… a good question."
"It was not a question."
"Oh, you know what I mean!" Quill-Weave clamored. "I don't suppose there's an easy between here and Winterhold across borders?"
"And Jobasha figures there are no Silt Striders."
"You… You don't think we'll have to foot it, do we?"
Jobasha let out a yawn, reaching over to the lit candle on the nightstand separating the two beds. "I am sure there are ways to Winterhold that will reveal themselves come morning, yes? As for now, the moons are calling for me."
Quill-Weave, seeing Jobasha turn to the open window, sighed. The open window let in just enough moonlight from the pair in the sky, mingling across the stars.
It was a nice view to fall asleep to.
"Unless you're payin', I'm gonna have to go." The Dunmer bartender said, her tired eyelids being all she could see aside from the vague outline of two near-naked beastfolk. "I got lots of other… clothed customers to serve, ya know."
"W won't take up much time!" Quill-Weave pleaded, putting on a big smile. "We were wondering if there was any transport to Winterhold in Skyrim. Preferably of the cheap variety?"
The bartender practically snorted as she laughed. It would be cute, Quill-Weave thought, if they weren't wearing towels. She felt very exposed in the environment, with people leering at them.
"Do not worry." Jobasha said, sitting against the bar and exposing his slim chest to the crowd. "They are mostly here for Jobasha."
Quill-Weave stifled a laugh. That did a little to ease her nerves.
"So that's a no, then?"
"Plenty of transport to Winterhold, yeah. Ever since the crisis there's been this annoying toll though. Some S'wit thought it best to charge people for crossing from one ruin of a province to another. Unless you have fifty-something septims on you, I'd say you're out of luck."
As the bartender went to pour some drinks for actual paying customers, Jobasha sighed. "Jobasha hopes we can make that money quickly. The Perverted One said he would give extra rewards for an early delivery."
"As for how, though… Think we can board transport and sneak through, getting off just before the border?"
"Tsch… It is most risky. Many slaves are caught crossing the border by sneaking before they even cross the border."
The two sat at the bar thinking, occasionally spitballing ideas that were shut down by the other, until Jobasha pointed behind Quill-Weave
"We could always ask this one?"
Quill-Weave turned to face a blue-robed woman. A Nord, judging by her blond locks spilling from her hood and her tall figure. Her muscles, though thin, showed up on the torso of her robes. She was smart and tough, then? Not to mention her nose—
"Quill-Weave!" Jobasha snapped his claws in front of her.
"Huh? What?"
"Look at the bookbag." He whispered. "It is the mark of Winterhold, yes?"
He was right. Three spiraling towers arising from a castle, sewn in the light blue bag with a dull yellow thread.
Tekla drank from her cup silently. It'd be the last cup of greef she'd enjoy before they left for Winterhold. Shame, too, since the stuff was just starting to grow on her. She'd supposed her trip here was good, considering the sacks and barrels full of Morrowind-specific alchemy ingredients in her room.
It was just a bit boring for what she expected a trip to Morrowind to be.
"Excuse me?"
Tekla looked at the Argonian now by her side.
"E-er… I get that Morrowind can be a wee bit hot at times, but I ain't sure it's towel weather, lass."
"Yeah, that's not important. So are you from the College?"
"Of Winterhold, I'm guessing that's what you mean. Yep!" Tekla flexed her fingers, sparks dancing between them. "Why? You lookin' to be a student?"
"Actually, we were hoping to look at the library there. The… Arcaneum, I think it's called?"
Tekla raised an eyebrow. Putting on a smile and laughing nervously a bit, Quill-Weave tugged Jobasha's tail, which rested right behind her.
"These two are scholars, Miss Nord. Authors who wish to… expand their horizons, yes? There is a certainty that this Arcade—"
"Arcaneum." Tekla corrected.
"Yes! We are certain that this Arcaneum will provide to us the spark we need!"
The mage sighed, downing her cup. "I'm… I'm sure you two are harmless, but it's not really College protocol to let non-members see the Arcaneum, unless they have some sort of grant."
Quill-Weave dug through her mind in an attempt to remember if Crassius said anything about clearance into the college. Aside from the password, she didn't recall anything, much to her frustration.
"Um…" Quill-Weave coughed. "We were actually hoping to find a specific book. Historical."
"Hmm? What is it? There's a good bookseller in Blacklight if it's just one book you're lookin' for."
"I forget the title, but I remember that it's about… Barenziah in Daggerfall…"
Quill-Weave leaned in just a smidge, looking for any reaction from the woman.
"…Never heard of it."
Damn.
Tekla sighed. "I'm sure the bookstore has it. But… If you really want to see the College, I can bring you to Winterhold. Is this a vacation for you two?"
"Similar, yes."
"Sort of like that." The two spoke simultaneously.
"…Honeymoon?"
"W-what? No, just a—"
"I'm not... I'm not into..."
Holding in her laughter, Tekla started to stand up. "I can take you into Winterhold. I'm not sure how they'll let you in if you're not students though. At the very least, you'll enjoy Winterhold city itself?"
"So you'll take us?"
"Free of charge, as long as you can help on the road."
It was midday. Quill-Weave and Jobasha had helped their new companion Tekla loading ingredients and supplies onto a covered cart. It was obviously made for two people at the most – Tekla had apparently come alone – but it wouldn't be hard to fit the Argonian and the Khajiit on. It wasn't like they had much, anyways.
"I still demand to know where you were hiding that lockpick."
"Well right now, Jobasha is hiding it in his new pockets!" Jobasha did a jovial spin, watching his blue robe open like a spinning ballgown. "This is a warm robe! Very good for what I assume Winterhold's weather will be!"
Quill-Weave picked at her own blue robe. It must have been woven with wool. There were all sorts of inner pockets for what she assumed holding spell reagents. She'd have to interview some mages for her books.
Already she could see her new character. A dashing Dunmer – no, Breton – pulling off heists regular thieves could only dream of with a simple wave of his hand and a few magic words. Of course, she didn't understand much about magic to write about it, but that's something her visit to the College of Winterhold will fix.
As Tekla fed an apple to the horse pulling the wagon, she lit the lantern hanging on the wagon with a wave of her hand.
"We'll be there in three days, if we're lucky."
"And what of these tolls? Payment is needed to enter Skyrim, yes?"
Tekla gave a smirk as she floated onto her horse. Quill-Weave was always saddened by the Levitation Act of 421, even though she wouldn't know how to tie her shoelaces with magic let alone cast a flying spell. Tekla seemed to enjoy the freedom of being able to cast such spells in Morrowind's territory.
"Don't worry about it." Tekla chuckled. "It's been paid for by the College, so long as I get what they sent me here for. And I…" Tekla shook one of the sacks behind her, full of comberries and canis root, "…Have everything and more."
"Jobasha finds these ingredients very… pungent."
"No offense, but so does Quill-Weave – so do I!"Quill-Weave stammered. "I swear, the Khajiit dialect is contagious!"
"Well if you're already offput, I'd stay clear of the alchemical stations. They got decades on decades of stink."
As Tekla started scratching her horses head, she turned back as far as she could as she faced forward, towards Skyrim. As the horse started trotting off, Quill-Weave and Jobasha relaxed against some ingredient sacks. Staring at the sun now highest as it could be in the sky, Jobasha basked in it's warmth.
"Quill-Weave may as well enjoy the sun now." He said, handing Quil-Weave a small wineskin. "It may be the last seen until we leave Winterhold."
"…And where were you hiding that?"
"Shh… Khajiit is relaxing…"
As Jobasha reclined on the sack, face to the sky with his eyes closed, Quill-Weave managed to get a peek of what was under his neck. It was hard to tell because of the fur, but she recalled a book where a detective could tell certain things behind a Khajiit's fur to find signs of a murder weapon.
Well, it wasn't a murder weapon of course. Whoever had tried to kill Jobasha obviously failed.
The mark still bothered Quill-Weave. It looked something like a whip, or even a rope. Squinting her eyes and staring closer, Quill-Weave soon found herself close to Jobasha's neck. It was faded by now, but it seemed like a scar.
She made a point to ask about it when they were off the road. For the next few hours of the trip, though, Quill-Weave's stomach sank thinking of what had happened to Jobasha.
Alessia skipped the carriage this go around. Kynareth had blessed her for todays journey, truly, for the road from Whiterun to Winterhold was full of warm sun and a breeze that at most cooled her.
Skyrim was… acceptable. Most of the time it was an icy dump, but there were certain places of natural beauty that Kynareth – or Kyne as the Nords apparently called her – decided to bless the land with. Volcanic tundras were on the top of her To-Do List, but first she had a mission to do. She was sure seeing the Volcanic Tundras would be much more rewarding after witnessing the hellscape that must be Winterhold.
She sang to herself a hymn as she walked. The lyrics were a praise to the Divines, but the melody itself was catchy enough that many in Cyrodiil whistled it while they worked. Perhaps a call to Stendarr?"
Alessia was quite surprised when she heard someone whistle along with her.
"Who's there!" She demanded, looking around with a dagger she whipped out of her pack in her hand. "I-I'm warning you! I have a weapon and-"
"This one means no harm…" The Khajiit dropped whatever effect made him invisible. Humble brown robes and a bookbag well-past its limit. The Khajiit had a staff in one hand, and an open, surrendering palm.
"A mage, I see…" Alessia snorted.
"Please, take no offense to Khajiit. Khajiit simply loves the song you were singing. You are from Cyrodiil, yes? Your dialect is most familiar."
Surprised, Alessia coughed and regained her composure. "Yes. The Imperial City, specifically. You seem to be the… er… reading sort," she said as she eyed his book bag no doubt full of arcane scribbles. "Have you read any guides to the cities in Cyrodiil?"
"Er… not really. It is most hard to read anything other than research, usually." He laughed. Alessia sighed. Of course, a Khajiit decides to become literate and they never pick up the good books. Only the writings of wicked wizards.
"Well, then I suppose our business is complete then, unless you intend to tell me why you're stalking me?"
"Stalking? Khajiit would neve-"
"I am married, you know."
"There is no intention of romance. Thank Mara for that." He snorted back, crossing his arms. "This one noticed you were asking about Winterhold at the Bannered Mare, with no weapon aside from the letter opener you call a dagger in your basket. Khajiit thought, 'Hey, this woman will get herself killed by wolves or bandits or whatever nasty things lies behind the next stone over.' Khajiit was doing you a favor."
"Right, a favor. I'm perfectly safe, as you can bloody see, so—"
"Yes. Khajiit saw. Khajiit saw the bandits eyeing your valuable necklace and earrings, so Khajiit set their pants on fire and saw them run to a river. Khajiit saw wolves eyeing your fat head like a succulent sweetmeat, so Khajiit charmed them and saw them walk away. Khajiit saw approaching thief, so Khajiit cast a burden spell and saw him fall over under all the other stolen trinkets he carried."
Alessia was silent.
"This one is called J'Skar. Formerly of the Mages Guild's Bruma division, and a new student at the College of Winterhold."
Alessia looked at his extended hand. He… seemed to mean no harm, but that's what all mages propagated their image as. Still, if it was to be of some help on the way to Winterhold, Alessia was sure she could tolerate the trip.
She wasn't shaking that furry little hand though. She still had standards.
"Alessia Ottus. Author. Imperial City." She curtly replied. "Let's move. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible.
