Chapter Fifty-Four:

Missing Person

Milos had finally fallen asleep after midnight, but a knot in his stomach had awoken him in the wee hours of the morning. He stretched in his bedroll, his mouth open in a wide yawn, then he rubbed his eyes and absently looked around the room.

It didn't surprise him that Eduard was already in the room and fast asleep. He never changed his clothes, but kept them impeccably clean, and never removed his mask. Milos had to hold back a snide growl merely at the sight of the Dragon Priest. The only person Eduard even appeared to get along with well was Aldren, and even then their topics were the historical torture methods they enjoyed the most ("historical" meaning Eduard hadn't yet heard of them and was looking forward to applying them when he got back to his time). Otherwise, Eduard treated all equally... with disdain.

The Argonian sighed and scratched the side of his maw with his claws. He couldn't hear anything from Taryn's side of the room, which probably meant she was out cold. Good thing, too. Milos had noticed that she hadn't been getting much of a restful sleep lately. Maybe the guilt of killing that Bienne guy was sinking in, or maybe the thought of fighting that great black Dragon Alduin was beginning to look... difficult, to put it lightly.

There was another option that Milos didn't exactly want to dwell on. But wrestling it from his mind before had made him leave Taryn, his sister, alone. It wasn't something he was proud of, and he wasn't enjoying the repercussions, but what was done was done.

Still, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Milos sat up and rubbed his eyes, then slowly and quietly slipped out of his bedroll. Eduard didn't stir. Neither did Taryn. Lifting his tail so it wouldn't hit anything on the way out, Milos made his way to the second floor, sat in a chair and waited for service.

He had to wait longer than when their group had first arrived in Windhelm. He realized that Susanna wasn't around, which meant she was probably at home. Shrugging, Milos stood and went downstairs to the bar that Elda Early-Dawn was manning. The Nord hardly glanced up at him.

"What'll it be?" she asked as she busied herself with wiping the bar.

"Happen to have anything to eat at this hour?" Milos asked her as he slid onto a stool at the bar.

Elda stopped herself to think. "Nils made his chaurus pie. Interested?"

"Pie this early? For the love of Mara, yes!"

After paying Elda the appropriate amount of coin, Milos heartily dug into his odd (but delicious) breakfast. He was nearly done when he was joined by Hiemdall, who all but stumbled down the hallway. If he wasn't hung-over (and Milos had his doubts about that), he was just one of those people who, when tired, looked like they'd had a hell of a night.

"Hiemdall," Milos greeted the Harbinger.

Hiemdall's head planted on the bar. Elda frowned at that. "Gods, you're up too, Milos...?"

"I am?" Milos patted his chest and looked down at himself sarcastically. "Hm. I thought I was dreaming. I knew this pie was too delicious."

Hiemdall reached over and unceremoniously grabbed a handful of the stuff, and then began nibbling on it. "Mm... 'S good..."

Milos shook his head. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Harbinger."

"This is an everyday occurrence in Jorrvaskr. You should be flattered."

"Easy there. You're starting to sound like Prince Eduard."

Hiemdall made a show of rolling his eyes. "If I ever sound identical to him, kill me. It'll be doing Skyrim a favour." While Milos smirked at him, Hiemdall's nostrils flared. "Did Taryn come back last night? She was off with the Jarl for a while..."

"Somehow I figured that convincing Stormcloak of making nice for a few days would take some time," Milos remarked, "but I think she came back... I mean, I didn't hear anything from her side and I didn't see anything, but... It wouldn't take a whole night, right?"

"Whole night isn't finished yet, though." Hiemdall squinted out the window. "Still dark out. Must be, what? Four in the morning?"

"Hard to sleep when Skyrim's sitting on your shoulders. This war is no joke."

Hiemdall rubbed the stubble on his chin. "... I don't think she came back last night..." In a softer voice, so Elda couldn't eavesdrop, he added, "She barely left a scent as it is for me to notice, and that was only when she briefly dropped her stuff off. If she came back at any time, I would know."

Milos' brow furrowed. It was still difficult for him to peg Hiemdall and the Companions as Werewolves, but every now and then, Hiemdall would remind him, however unintentional it would be. But Hiemdall's blood was uninteresting to the Argonian, at the moment. Instead, he left his pie on the counter and strode back to his shared room with Taryn and the prince.

He opened the door gently, hoping it wouldn't make a sound, and peered inside.

Taryn wasn't there.

Well, that had to mean she was with the Jarl, right? And Eduard had announced he was going for a walk, so maybe they had crossed paths, as doubtful as it may be.

Still, it was enough for Milos to decide it was time to pay a visit to the Jarl himself. He might not be tolerated in the Palace of the Kings, but as long as he knew Taryn was all right, he could rest easy. Better safe than sorry, after all.

The Argonian grabbed his gear, fastened his banded iron armour to himself, and then slid his glass greatsword into the sheathe on his back. Stretching, he hurried back to the bar, where Hiemdall was ready to accompany Milos. (He also noticed that the remainder of his pie had been consumed.)

"Should we get the others?" Hiemdall asked.

Milos paused. Cha'qim would be a help with quickly looking around the city... Aldren, too. But two non-humans looking around a Nord city would arouse too much suspicion. And Eduard... Milos didn't much like the prospect of inviting the Dragon Priest along to find the missing Dragonborn. That was a recipe for disaster.

"Meet me by the Hall of the Dead with Javin. I'm going to the Blue Palace first. If I find her there, I'll just let you know and we'll return here. All right?" Milos asked.

Hiemdall nodded curtly. "Got it. Beardsy it is. See you in a few, Milos."

"You too."

Milos walked quickly to the Palace of the Kings, hoping no guards would delay him, and was lucky enough that they didn't. He opened one large door to see the Jarl wasn't on his throne, but there was a Nord man sitting at the long table with a long, brown moustache and a hat to keep his head warm. He was seated among the two dozen city guards feasting there. Assuming that Nord was the steward, he approached him first.

"Excuse me?" Milos prompted him.

It took a few moments for the Nord to realize that Milos wasn't a dock worker, and only then did he offer Milos his attention. "Yes?" he grumbled.

"I'm looking for my friend, Taryn Greystone. She's here on Greybeard business. Is it possible she's still in talks with Ulfric Stormcloak?"

The Nord twirled his moustache as he looked Milos up and down. "Why are you looking for her?"

"She didn't get back to the inn last night."

"She didn't?" Milos was both relieved and shocked that the Nord seemed genuinely concerned. "The Imperial that came here last night left maybe less than an hour after she arrived. Don't know what happened after that."

"But you saw her leave?" he pressed.

"Aye. Practically took off with a spring in her step. Ulfric agreed to attend this... meeting."

Milos nodded, letting his words sink in. "Thank-you for your time, Nord."

The Argonian spun on his heel and hurried out of the palace. He needed to find a trail, now that he had a starting point... For all he knew, Taryn could be drooling over the ships at the docks. But for... for what? Seven hours, give or take? No, she'd never spent that much time daydreaming. Always had something she needed to do—somewhere she needed to be. Still, it'd be a good place to look. But he knew he needed to meet the others.

So Milos set out of the palace at a brisk jog, ignoring the morning snow that was slowly swirling to the ground. He didn't expect to see what he did when he turned the corner.

Four people, excluding Javin and Hiemdall, were standing over a body, which was laying on a grave in a pool of its own blood. Clothing was shredded both on and off the body. From the lack of stench, it was probably only a few hours old. Milos' heart restarted in his chest as he rushed over, but he quickly ascertained that it wasn't Taryn's body. He knew her; Susanna the Wicked, the barmaid of Candlehearth Hall.

One of the four, a guard wearing the navy regalia of Windhelm, immediately approached the Argonian with his palm facing Milos.

"Hold it there!" the guard commanded. "Keep your distance."

Milos looked at the body of the barmaid. "What happened?" he asked, his eyes scouring the ground covered in blood.

"Another girl killed. This is Susanna, from Candlehearth Hall. Served me a drink just a few nights ago... but I can't say I knew her."

"Another?" Milos pressed suddenly.

The guard jerked his thumb towards the body. "Susanna's the third. It's always the same; young girl, killed at night, body torn up..." He sighed as Milos eyes widened. Taryn was missing... And these murders were going on?! "We're stretched thin as it is with the war. Nobody has the time to spend on this. Not pleasant, but it's the truth."

Hiemdall stepped forward and caught the guard's attention, his eyes flickering to Milos. "We're looking for our friend, an Imperial girl with brown hair and a scar that goes like this down her face." Hiemdall traced the path of Taryn's joined scars.

"She had an audience with Ulfric last night, but she didn't get back to the inn afterwards," Milos added hastily.

The guard placed his hands on his hips and set his eyes on the ground. Milos thought that if the guard wasn't wearing his helm, he'd be scratching his head.

"I'm not sure about your friend, since Susanna is the body here. But if you think your friend might be the next victim, you could start by asking these gawkers if they say anything useful," the guard responded, gesturing to the three others around the body. "I'm going to examine the body before the rats can get to it."

Milos took a few steps back and began to pace. Gods, he couldn't think. Susanna was dead, and what? Now Taryn might be another victim?

He couldn't jump to conclusions. For all he knew, Taryn actually could be at the docks. Maybe working for extra coin? No, the Argonians down there didn't even work through the night, as much as the Jarl might want them to. Even they needed sleep. And he doubted that any sailors would enjoy having someone working on their ship while they were trying to get in some shut-eye. Unless they took her on board...

No. Taryn wouldn't run away, and she wouldn't be so naїve as to let a bunch of sailors get the best of her. Something was definitely wrong...

Rubbing his tired eyes, Milos took a deep breath and approached one of the three people there. He cleared his throat to get the Imperial man's attention. He was averting his eyes from the body.

Milos thought it best to be direct while Javin and Hiemdall attended to the other two with the questioning, so he didn't even bother to introduce himself.

The Imperial rubbed his forehead. "Always sad when someone has to die..." he mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Milos tried to appear non-threatening. With all the prejudice in Windhelm, he hoped even his imposing figure appeared peaceful, at most. "Did you see what happened here?"

The Imperial rubbed the grey goatee on his face. His hair, which looked as if it was usually slicked back, was tousled a bit. Milos wondered if he'd been more deeply disturbed by the death than he was letting on.

"Sorry," the Imperial muttered sadly. "I thought I saw a fellow running away, but didn't get a good look at him."

"Which way did he go?"

"Um..." The Imperial glanced around. "Gods, there's so much blood here... I didn't know a person could bleed so much... Poor girl..."

Gods-dammit, he's too damn disturbed about this body to answer straight... Milos, stressed, bade the man a farewell and went to speak with Hiemdall and Javin. Hiemdall was looking at the body with a bit of a green face that could rival Milos' own scales.

"How could anyone do something like that to another person...?" Hiemdall shook his head. "And people would think the Circle are monsters..."

"Let's just focus on finding Taryn," Milos said to get the Harbinger to focus.

Javin crossed his arms. "You think the bastard who did this got to Taryn?"

"The guard said himself: young women. She was out walking by herself, and let's face it, I saw half the guards in this city feasting at the Jarl's table when I went to see if she was there." Milos shook his head at the thought.

"From your being here and Taryn's not, I assume she wasn't there?"

"Or the Jarl's lying..." Hiemdall grumbled.

Milos glanced at the city guard perusing the body of Susanna. "Possible, but unless Taryn marched in there announcing she was the Dragonborn and a supporter of the Empire, I have my doubts. She's not that stupid. But I spoke with the steward of the castle and he assured me that the meeting hadn't lasted any longer than an hour. If we ask around the market in a few hours when it's busy, chances are someone may have seen her. Until then, let's assume the worst and Taryn has been plucked off the streets. What did you two learn?"

Javin chanced a look over his shoulder at the witnesses. "That beggar there said she heard a scream and ran here. She also assured me that the woman was already dead by the time she arrived."

"And that priestess there saw nothing," Hiemdall added. "But she said that Susanna's coinpurse was intact. If the killer was after money, he wouldn't have left that. And if this is a series of murders like the guard said, then he must be targeting something specific."

"Yeah..." Milos rubbed the underside of his jaw. "I'll talk to that guard again. The sooner we find Susanna's killer, the sooner we may find Taryn."

"I'll get that beggar a meal and see if she can't remember anything, in case she's holding out," Javin offered readily. "Meet me at the inn when you're both finished."

Milos noticed that the Imperial had already left, likely for his home. The beggar was lingering, but not for long; Javin took her up the steps towards Candlehearth Hall. The priestess of Arkay was shooing the guard away so she could prepare it for burial. Milos took his chance then while Hiemdall flanked him.

"Seems like no one saw anything useful," Milos told the guard.

The Nord cursed under his breath. "The bastard's escaped again..."

"Look, my friends and I are willing to help. If our friend's in danger, we need to be involved."

Clearly frustrated, the guard snorted. "If you think you can do better than the legion of guards, be my guest. You need to talk to Jorleif, though. We can't just let anyone go around claiming to be on official business. If he's willing, then we'll talk."

"He's the castle steward?"

"Aye. He's been trying to organize the guards to find this murderer, but with the war, it's been difficult."

"All right." Milos spun on his heel and looked at Hiemdall. "Let's go," he told the Companion.

Hiemdall nodded curtly. "Right behind you, Milos."