Chapter 5: At Large, By And Large
Torygg had not been kidding. As Castorius had walked the streets of Solitude, nobody had given him as much as a second glance.
Well, a few women had, but that was to be expected.
But, in the main, everyone had just been skimming the pavement as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had ever taken place. Castorius had heard it said that, of all animals, fish had a peculiarly short memory; that they just about lost all recollection of things that had taken place just seconds ago, no matter how traumatic.
Perhaps, he reflected, plebs were the same.
He was sitting on a low cobblestone fence by a guard-tower just outside the city, munching on a Juniper Berry Crostata he'd snatched for a quick lunch. Despite the fresh-out-of-the-oven crunch of the crust and the highly pungent snap of the fresh-picked berries hitting just about all imaginable spots after weeks of near-definite culinary drabbery, it would of course be nowhere close to a sufficient feast. He was saving himself, though, for he anticipated a more satisfying meal lurking in the near future. Nothing quite matched the sweetness of the fulfillment of a pleasure delayed, and he was looking to pillage all the forborne enjoyment stashed within that particular cache.
Though, obviously, the culinary sort was not the only sort of flesh he anticipated rejoicing in. The thought of the soft, warm folds of feminine dimensions was enough to send his entire body into a state of aching. It was long overdue!
At that moment, as Castorius distractedly stuffed the last morsels of the pastry into the confines of his maw, a young woman of salient proportions sailed right past him, as if conjured by his roused ribald mind. The woman's purple-and-green gauze dress was light and skimpy in fabric, perfectly suited for such a warm summer noon. The hem just about reached the knee, allowing for a charitable view of the well-formed smooth legs, the skin of which was so pale as to reflect the rays of midday sun right back at it, rivaling with the star in brightness, practically one-upping it. And as the sun gave life, the sight stirred its own within Castorius' amorously deprived physique.
The rest of her had also been put together with care, and the snug-fitting cut of the gown didn't leave much quarter for guessing. Auburn hair framed her delicate but strong-cast features, and cascaded in voluminous curls about her freckled shoulders. It waved in interlocked layers as she walked, further tousled by the soft breeze.
The sort of feeling captivating Castorius right then he supposed the closest to love he'd ever get. The shallowness of the notion did not escape him, but there were times a man and his fate simply had to shake hands and learn to get on.
The woman, noting his stare, then briefly returned it. A knowing smile appeared on her lips, and she gave Castorius a not-entirely unappreciative look, scanning in a matter of seconds his own undeniably firmly-shaped form before continuing on her way down the path to the left leading to the Solitude docks. The swing of those well-rounded hips may have picked up an extra sway at the face of Castorius' yearning gaze, as she sashayed down the slope with self-assuredly disenchanted casualty, like any care in the world would without question step out of her way upon encounter.
There was nothing for him to do but to stare after her, until all possible care had been taken to ingest every last drop of the near-divine vision.
No, a divine vision would have come far behind. There was a paradise, Castorius knew, and it resided in the nooks and crannies of the artworks of mundane design like the one now disappearing behind a bend on the ascending path.
He wondered if he should go after her. Surely everything else could—should—wait.
"Not bad, huh?" It was a voice behind him, startling Castorius out his reveries.
A tall and slim man around his mid-thirties with neatly combed dark-brown hair, dressed in worn-out black robes, smirked at Castorius. He winked an eye, the lid of which drooped slightly, and nodded after the now gone apparition. "Like the look of that, huh?"
Lewd as he may have been, the nudge-nudge-wink-wink type of chatter partaken of by concupiscent men looking to bond in their shared depravity had never rubbed off on Castorius. Nonetheless, he'd gotten sufficiently proficient pretending at it upon challenge; just enough not to evoke their scorn, and to shake their caddish schoolboy-waggery off his back.
So he twisted his face as a mirror-image of this sneering lout's self-pleased cast, and said, "Yeah, I wouldn't mind a bit of that!" in his best brute-voice. He threw in as extra spice an impish little chuckle, complete with a click of his tongue and a grossly exaggerated wink.
He was just about to congratulate himself on account of this thespianic feat, when the face of the other man suddenly assumed a seriousness verging on gravity. "She's my sister," the man said flatly.
Oh.
There was a stretch of silence right then, with nothing but crickets and the wind.
"Um, sorry," muttered Castorius awkwardly, the man staring at him with the angriest lack of expression he'd seen. He was quickly weighing his chances of beating this guy in a brawl; then trying to figure out the last time he'd ran really fast. "I, uh, didn't of course intend to—"
But the explanation was cut short by a sudden burst of air scratching its way out the man's nostrils. His face convulsed, and he folded up, taken by a fit of guttural cackles.
Castorius stared at the man, blinking. "Um . . ."
The man howled, thumping on his thigh. "Oh!" he managed, between whelps. "You should have seen yourself." Finally, wiping his eyes, he gave Castorius an almost pitying look. "She's not my sister," he said. "I've never seen her before in my life."
"Oh," was all Castorius could think to reply.
"Do you think," the man said, calmed down now, "that were she my sister, I'd be here talking to you? Huh?"
"Well—"
"No, I think not. I'd have better things to do with my mouth, if you catch my tenor."
Castorius frowned. "Sorry, what?"
"Ah!" the man breathed, already moving on to bigger and loftier things. "What a beautiful day we're having, eh?" He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He went for his satchel and dug out a tanned leather-canteen. Unstoppering it, he offered it to Castorius. "Drink?"
Castorius put up a refusing hand, and shook his head. "Thanks."
The man looked at Castorius, mildly taken aback, shrugged and took a long swig. He let out an 'ah,' chugged another one, a third, then tugged the stopper back in the bottle and the bottle in the bag.
"Starts out the day, huh?" Castorius asked—in his mind—neutrally. Trying not to judge, stumbling at the countdown.
Something about drunkards to really twist at his gonads.
The man smiled, evidently oblivious to any sarcasm in Castorius' inquiry. "You bet!" he said. "Never saw the point of traveling this word stone-sober. Seems like what an utter moron would do!" He quickly raised a condescending brow, nudging at Castorius. "No offense, of course"
Castorius managed a unenthusiastic half-smile. "None taken."
"No," said the man, sizing Castorius up. "Of course not." He stuck out his hand. "Name's Sam. Sam Guevenne."
With some reluctance, Castorius offered his. "Janus Castorius."
"Nice to meet you, Janus." The man's grip was firm and sweaty.
Nobody ever called him "Janus." "Castorius, if you please," he said. "Or Castor, for short." If you must.
The man nodded, still gripping Castorius' hand. "Alright," he said.
When Castorius finally had his hand back, he conspicuously wiped it at the back of his trousers.
"So . . . Cas," the man said, "what's a man like you up to on such a lovely day? Up to no good, I'm sure! Huh?"
Castorius, unsuccessfully trying to evade the man's jabbing elbow, said, "Oh, you know. Imperial business," gesturing at his attire. He had to admit it felt good to be wearing it again, despite how he felt about the thing it represented. But perhaps mentioning the Empire would get this man off his back, as many around here tried to stay as far from Imperial affairs as possible.
Just thinking about it, though, only managed to bring his mind back to the errand ahead. His guts took a dive at the thought. Falk Firebeard—or Talk Tiredrear as Castorius had aptly, if not too cleverly, renamed the man while suffering though his verbose monotone of instruction—had left it quite beyond reasonable doubt this was not to be a leisurely assignment.
Castorius' head still felt rather loose on his shoulders.
"Ah," Sam said, not betraying any sign of being intimidated by the outfit. He produced the most slovenly mockery of a military salute. "Hail to the Septim!"
The Septim Empire had, of course, ended a couple hundred years back.
Castorius flashed a brief indulgent smile, and said, "Well, it was nice meeting you," making to leave.
"Where you headed, Cas?"
"Me?" He quickly fumbled for a lie. "Towards the Pale." Too slow.
"Ah!" Sam's features cleared. "That's where I'm bound, too." How did I guess? "What a pleasant coincidence!"
That, of course, it was not.
Castorius tried to think a way out of the predicament. He did not feel like listening to this fellow the entire way to the Pale. No doubt he was full-stocked with amusing anecdotes and tall-tales, all fished straight out of the fumes of the flagon. Castorius' mind was running on empty, though. Between the blood just slowly returning to the higher regions of his anatomy, and the dread of the pending execution still thumping in the back of his head—the memory of the earlier attempted head-extracting cleaver still fresh as pastries—he could not for the life of him think of anything to say that might sufficiently discourage Sam.
He cursed inside—why had he been damned with such good manners? "Oh sure," he said, the peppiness of his own voice grating his ears, "could always use some company, I suppose."
True enough, only not this kind.
"Great!" Beaming, Sam looked about. "So, how are we traveling?"
Firebeard had afforded Castorius a letter of attorney with which to lease a horse from the Solitude stables. "Well, I'm going to take a horse," he said, a flicker of hope igniting that this might be his ticket out of the thicket.
No such luck. "Alright," Sam said. "Lucky chance, I've got my own."
"Ah." Castorius hoped he didn't look too crestfallen on the outside.
"Sure is nice to have someone to talk to on the way!" said Sam blithely.
As Castorius revealed his teeth, he felt he may as well have been grimacing in great pain. "It sure is!"