Forsworn Mass

Three days later, I was still shell-shocked at my battle with the faceless bandit. I couldn't get the words, the imagery, the scenery out of my head. It's been lodged their ever since, and even trying to work it off wasn't helping.

I hadn't told anyone of what occurred, and nor did any of the witnesses. I imagine that the witnesses had a hard time trying to forget his face as well.

I was sitting at the top of the guard's tower, looking at the bleak surroundings of Markarth. There seemed to be a massive storm gathering to the west, where I was looking, and it looked bigger and angrier than any other I have seen – or can remember. If the storm really was a big as it looked, it would be bad for the trade in Markarth. It could last a day, or it could last a week. The torrential rain wouldn't flood the populated area inside Markarth's walls, due to the way it's built, but it would still be dangerous to walk the roads – inside or outside of the walls. Most shops would have to close down, and, if it does get disastrous, most people, including my family, would have to take shelter inside Understone Keep.

I let out a sigh as I made my way back to the Tavern, to resume my job and earn my pay. People always wondered why Draco and I had worked at 'such a young age'. If they knew the situation we were in since birth, I'm sure they would keep an open mind about it.

Today was just like any other day, aside from the gruelling images in my mind. Not only was his lack of face traumatising, but it as the first time I had attacked someone to kill. Not once when I was training in magic and using my rapier (which I almost never take out of the house, because if I'm in danger in Markarth, my magic will surely be enough.) sparring with my mentor Aeliea.

I finished my shift and got back home. With it being the middle of autumn, it was already pitch black pretty early. A few torches lit up the main roads in Markarth, giving just enough light for me to pick my way through the obstacles to get back to my house.

As I got into my home, I was greeted by two boisterous "HELLO"'s, obviously giving off the fact that they're in a good mood.

"What gives you high hopes?" I asked Draco and Father, taking off my boots and chucking them aside, before taking off my cloak that I wore to ward off the cold that has seeped into Markarth the past week.

"Our Mentors have returned!" Draco stated, eating a sweetroll.

"When will we start training again?" I asked farther, grabbing three sweetrolls and a bowl of lukewarm rabbit stew for myself.

"Tomorrow. You needed more practice with your rapier. Speaking of it, are you going to name it?" He asked me, finishing his fifth sweetroll.

"I might. I haven't been needing it at all, unless the forsworn decide to mass against Markarth." I explained. As soon as I said this, however, the room had suddenly lost all of it's cheerfulness and was replaced by a heavy tension.

"What is it?" I asked, somewhat confused by the sudden change of mood.

"A few of the Markarth scouts and nearby farms have reported the Forsworn massing to the North East of Markarth." Draco said, immediately casting me into a tense mood.

"How many, and how long?" I asked, feeling a slight river of energy ebb through my arm.

"Well, they estimated that they would take up to two months to arrive at Markarth, giving us Markarth enough time to prepare for a siege twice." A slight wave of relief coursed through my body.

"But, that's not all. Our scouts have estimated that there are over fifty-thousand forsworn soldiers."

I felt the energy course through my hand in an even stronger way than before, flaring up a Fireball spell that I didn't intend to release, or even conjure.

My father eyed my hand warily, whereas my brother was calm about it. I had two other outbursts like this before, one similar to this and one that started a small wild-pyre in the forests in Markarth's mountains. No one but my brother knows that I was the one who started that, but the Markarth guards blamed it on the death of a flame Atronarch.

"I know that Markarth will only be able to muster twenty thousand trained men, and they'll be fighting outside the city and on the walls. Your Mentors returned to specially tuition you. The Jarl has decide the you, Vela, will best serve your talents helping any wounded and serving around the city. You, Draco, will help with the defence of the nearest windmill, the closest building to the city that has a strategic use." He informed us, afterwards allowing us a few minutes to let the news wash over us.

"What about you?" I asked father.

"I will either be fighting for the nearby mines or out on the field in between the mines and the windmill Draco will be at."

"Why are they letting people so young fight?" I asked, not worried for me but worried for some of the other people our age that live in Markarth.

"It's only you too. The elf blood you gained from your mother ages you faster, you are stronger, wiser, and more capable than most people just becoming of age." I could swear on the Divines that I could see a glimmer of pride flash in his eyes, but that might have been family love.

I was humbled by what he said, but the slight panic at the situation he had presented us with still resided inside me.

"But be calm, we have two whole months to prepare. That's time enough." He said, before retiring to his bed for the night.

Draco and I followed suit, giving each other our soft night-time wishes before retiring ourselves.

As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but think of that faceless bandit, and the situation the forsworn have presented us with.