Nefasteri slowly strolled down to the city gate and out. The trademark dragonscale armour attracted far more attention than she had as a simple, angry Nord woman. People stopped to stare and quietly whisper to one another, but nobody stopped Nefasteri. She was just that legendary.
The carriage was already waiting at the stables. A lithe Breton woman in blue mages' robes sat in it reading, while an impressively bearded Imperial in Legion armour was negotiating prices with the driver. Very loudly. At Nefasteri's approach they two men even didn't spare her a glance, for all the impressive armour. The Breton looked up briefly, then turned back to reading her book. Nefasteri was mildly annoyed. She hated all the shows of respect and awe, but only by habit. To be just a bystander again was even worse.
The Imperial finally concluded his argument with an angry hrumph and mutters about the prices rising, and shoved quite a hefty bag of clinking gold to the driver. Nefasteri took his place and took out her own coin pouch.
"To Falkreath," she said quietly.
The driver was fairly young, and not one she remembered, but he eyed the woman with recognition nevertheless. As Nefasteri began counting out coins, he coughed nervously and said, "Err... that'll be twenty septims... Ma'am."
By the outraged look of the Imperial who'd over-heard, that was not the right price, but Nefasteri didn't argue. One doesn't get rich by refusing discounts, after all. Nefasteri climbed up and sat beside the scholarly Breton, with the Imperial facing her and still looking mildly disgruntled. Still he didn't say anything and Nefasteri preferred to leave it at that. Though she didn't mind company at all, sometimes she needed time to think and plan. Skyrim had obviously changed much in her absence, though some things had stayed depressingly stagnant. A war still raged, probably the same there had been when Nefasteri had first left Skyrim. The only difference was that Whiterun had joined the Legion, as indicated by the Imperial guards outside and inside the walls, but nothing else had changed. It was a clash between two forces matched too equally for one to eventually gain the upper hand. And she knew her value. Once news of her return spread, one or possibly even both of the leaders might try to persuade Nefasteri to join their cause.
And yet, something else drew her. Those two little thieves had obviously been under-fed, their clothes had been patched and old. This rag-tag group of kids needed her help more than two warlords who'd been going at it for twenty years already.
The carriage rolled forward with a start. No one else had joined them, except for a heavily armoured man who'd joined the driver on the front seat and was now chatting quietly with him. Nefasteri strained her ears to her the conversation over the rumble of the cart.
"Nah, I was hearing that she's marrying Lady Beyra off to the snooty princeling. To help with the politics'n'stuff, I reckon," the armoured guard was saying in a dismissive tone to whatever the driver had said before.
"No, no you got it all wrong. I remember, I was driving a pair of nobles to Solitude and they talked how Ladyship herself was marryin' Faustus," the driver insisted.
The guard sighed loudly and tried to continue the discussion, but Nefasteri interrupted. "What are you talking about?"
The driver glanced backwards hesitantly, his posture stiffening, and replied, "Rumours are about, ma'am. They're saying that Jarl Elisif's going to marry the emperor's third son Faustus. Or that Lady Beyra is going to marry Emperor Julianus' grandson."
"And Lady Beyra is?" Nefasteri prompted.
"Jarl Elisif's daughter. She's twins with Lord Torygg." He coughed and added, "Twenty years of age in a few months they'll be."
Nefasteri nodded and stared off into the distance. The two men started chatting again, about news in war and life. This little piece of information the woman had learned didn't change anything, only reminded her that in her twenty years of absence life had not stopped here. There would surely be other things to be learned and taken into consideration.
The ride was uneventful. When arriving in Riverwood, Nefasteri was pleasantly surprised by how the village had grown. There were five new houses she saw for the first time, and another one next to the mill was under construction. Children ran and laughed in the streets. Obviously the war hadn't hit as hard as it seemingly should have. They stopped there to stretch their legs and give the horse a bit of a rest - they had been going fairly quickly. It was late afternoon, and they were supposed to be in Falkreath after midnight. Nefasteri strolled over where the forge was, intending to chat with Alvor if he was still there, but working the forge was a short and sturdy Nord woman with brown her sticking to her forehead in wet strands. She looked at Nefasteri briefly, then got to work, but looked again when Nefasteri stopped to watch the smith at work.
"I'm sorry... But do I know you?" the smith finally asked, frowning.
Nefasteri laughed faintly and said, "I believe we've met a few times, some twenty years ago. I see you finally got your mother to let you become a blacksmith. Is Alvor here?"
"Oh, no ... No. He passed away last year. Been working the forge too hard in the winter. Caught a bad chill and never recovered. But who exactly are you?"
"I'm sorry. He was a good man." She paused. Tell the woman? There was probably no use keeping it a secret, rumours were going to spread sooner or later anyway. "I'm Nefasteri. I came here with Hadvar and stayed for a few weeks twenty years ago."
Dorthe's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. She let go of the bellows she'd been holding and sat down on a nearby stool, all the while staring at Nefasteri. "But you're... You're the Dragonborn..." As Nefasteri prepared to wave off admiration, the short woman unexpectedly bristled and accused, "And you've been gone for so long! You're a daughter of Skyrim, and you left us in our greatest need! They're still raging on with this war, and you've done nothing to help! How can you even call yourself a true Nord?" The woman got up and continued with her work - a half-finished greatsword - and left Nefasteri completely speechless. Her surprise was interrupted when the driver called out their leaving.
Dorthe's indignant outburst left Nefasteri in a pondering mood for the rest of the ride. She reasoned with herself that she had left to help people in other places - her gift was from the Divines themselves, and what right did she have to use it to help only the Nords?
She got down off the carriage before Falkreath. The sun had set, but it was three hours to midnight at the very least. Pinewatch stood silent before her as the cart rumbled away. The cottage looked hardly big enough to hold five people, instead of the, what, twenty the boy had mentioned? The straw roofhad fallen in on one side and the chimney had crumbled to dust. Either the boy had been messing with her, or the Guild was in an even worse state than she imagined. Nefasteri hesitantly walked up to the door that was hanging on one hinge and stepped inside. It was time to see if all the elders were right and the youth really were nasty, ungrateful little scoundrels.