Chapter 21: A Huntsman of Hearts

After the places he'd been since he last left the Stormcloak camp, the glowers greeting him on the faces of the ragged and dirty northerners huddled around their fires felt like the warmest of welcomes. It was like returning home.

Your glares aren't going to hurt me, Castorius thought, so long as you keep those blades in their scabbards.

He marched straight towards the tent containing his Imperial attire, not giving so much as the time of day to the folks whose lips so seemed to curl at his presence. What had he ever done to any of them, besides work for the wrong boss? Supposedly, at least.

"You," muttered one man upon seeing him approach.

Castorius gave the fellow the friendliest smile he could accomplish, pointing a finger at him. "And you!" he said chipper, before diving inside the tent.

The chunky Stormcloak, Hans, sat at the back, chewing on some desiccated piece of meat. Castorius thought the man's figure must have suffered badly in these austere conditions. He gave the man the most desultory wave of greeting, met with even less a response.

He looked around. "Where's my stuff?"

Hans simply stared at him a minute, his jowls working. It was as if he was trying to look dismissive but just came across as somewhat dull-minded. Finally he gave an infinitesimal nod towards a chest sitting in the corner. Castorius went to get out his outfit, which had been stuffed away inside the crate like some dirty secret. While he was getting dressed, Hans kept shooting distasteful scowls at him. Castorius paid no mind.

It felt disconcertingly pleasant once again wearing the outfit he'd always treated with such displeasure. He couldn't help feeling a bit like a slave who'd gotten so used to his master he felt reluctant once he was actually presented with a chance of going free . . .

However you looked at it, though, it was certainly a relief changing into a more respectable outfit after being once again forced to wear the humiliating tavern clothes all the way here. Thankfully they'd at least still been waiting for him at the guard tower in front of Solitude when he'd slogged in like a soaked dog in search of them. By that point he'd been starting to get so freezing cold he though he might just drop dead on his feet.

And now, as he'd managed to escape at least a very likely death at the hands of a more-than-likely sadistic lunatic, and another one at the hands of unrelenting natural forces, he was feeling more alive than ever. And for Janus Castorius, that usually meant one thing.

He gave the unhappy-looking Stormcloak slumping on his sizable backside an assertive look, having gained confidence from changing into his immaculate military outfit. "Hey, Hans!" he said, "Another thing. Where's Kirsten?"

The thought of the sullen woman was an inexplainable turn-on right now. What he'd taken as discouragement last time around, well, it felt like nothing but challenge now. Castorius could aver death, he could blow up a ship full of pirates—he could sure as Oblivion turn the head of some uppity girl playing at a revolutionary.

The look on Hans' face was, if possible, even more disgusted than before. "What do you want with her?"

Castorius shrugged. "Just talk." Ha ha ha—yeah right!

"Well, you're out of luck, friend," said Hans. "She's off hunting?"

"Hunting? Hunting for what?"

"What do you think? For the love and affection of some arrogant Imperial coward, of course!"

Castorius felt a flare on his cheeks. "I'm not a coward!"

Hans seemed less than impressed by the outburst. "No, of course you're not."

Castorius' patience was wearing thin. "Are you going to tell me where she went, or are you and I going to have a problem?" He was himself a bit surprised of this sudden rise of machismo. He pretty much felt like hitting this fellow right now, despite his right hand still being sore from the last punch he'd thrown. Still, it was a good feeling.

Hans blinked, actually appearing taken aback by the challenge presented.

Yeah, Castorius though, who's the coward now? "Well?" he pressed with a raised voice. He'd even balled his hand into a fist.

"They'd spotted some bear or something about the premises of the camp," replied the Stormcloak with surly resignation. "So she went to check it out."

"What, alone?"

Hans frowned. "You think she's some helpless laundrywoman, do you?" He shook his head. "You Imperials are all the same."

"Just tell me where she went!"

"Towards west, that's where the thing was last spotted."

"Alright," said Castorius. He started to leave.

"She's not interested, you know," Hans said, stopping Castorius in his tracks. "She's way too good for you."

Castorius turned, frowning at the man. "What, are you in love with her or something?" It was more than likely, as Hans seemed precisely the type to harbor hopeless romances for women out of his pudgy little league.

But the Stormcloak just replied with a scornful scuff. "I'm not a puffed-up blowhard like you. Even if I didn't look upon her as just a sister to the cause, I'd still know my station, and when someone is unreachable for me."

At least the man was honest. Still, Castorius felt like harassing him a bit more. "She's royalty now, or what?" he said, giving a laugh that even in his own ears sounded overly offhand.

Hans' brows went up. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" Castorius asked with a frown.

Hans laughed. "Of course, how could I expect you to. You don't know anything."

"I know I'm this close to kicking your behind. Speak!"

Hans gave him a pitying look. "Kirsten is Ulfric's niece."

Oh. Castorius blinked. "Well, you got me there. I did not know that."

"Yes, well, now you do. And since she's the closest living relative Ulfric has, she'll be a more than likely heir to the throne. That is, when Ulfric ascends to his rightful place as the High King of independent Skyrim."

Castorius grunted. "You know, for someone who's purportedly not an arrogant blowhard, you sure make bold assumptions."

There was a good measure of pride in the Stormcloak's eyes as he regarded Castorius, his chin uplifted. "And for a purported turncoat, you sure seem to lack faith in your new cause."

Oh, right. Castorius felt a little stab. He'd nearly forgotten he was still supposed to pretend at having joined the doomed cause of this insufferable dolt. How much of his true character had he let show?

At that, he decided to retreat. "You worry about your own faith, now," he said lamely, and rushed out of the tent before Hans had a chance to say anything more. There were more pressing issues to think about anyway.

He started walking out of the Stormcloak camp, heading West. Hans had better not have been leading him on.

An heir to the throne, eh? It was too obvious a detail to pass over as if nothing at all. The second Castorius thought it, though, his minded started to gallop ahead of itself. Wouldn't mind me some of that, no. Janus Castorius, the husband of—

He all but had to slap himself to keep such a presumptuous idea from fully forming. Last time he'd met the woman, the closest to intimate he'd gotten with her was a good slap in the face. As confident as he was now feeling about his chances of softening her up enough to bed her, it was still perhaps a touch too early to start devising a guest list for the wedding.

He did his best to focus on the present moment. It had been snowing last night, and the weather had gotten a bit colder. Fresh snow crunched under his boots, and the wind was once again chilling his bare legs. He'd have to suggest they add some kind of leg wear to the outfit the next time he spoke with someone in charge of the paraphernalia. That is, if I ever speak with any of them again.

This was no place for such grim thoughts! Castorius took a deep breath and let it flow out through his mouth. It was a new day, and that meant a new chance. No matter how gloomy he'd felt about the situation he'd been pulled into, there was always the opportunity to take matters into his own hands, to steer his destiny in the direction he best saw fit. What had that obnoxious Captain Malaney said again? The limits of our worlds are only as narrow as the limits of our minds? Maybe there was something about the man, after all, not entirely rotten. He just might have been on to something!

Castorius smiled. He'd find Kirsten, show her how mistaken her earlier, unfavorable view of him had been. He'd show her that Janus Castorius charm—the one that had the power to sweep any woman off her feet—and he'd prove for once and for all that—

He froze. Was that the sound of someone screaming? He cocked his ear, but for a second, heard nothing but the wind whizzing in the trees. And there is was again. Definitely somebody screaming.

Kirsten!

Castorius took off running towards the direction of the sound. Another scream. This time it was accompanied by something else. A low growl.

The bear!

The sounds were getting closer, and he picked up his pace. He nearly surprised himself by the nimble manner in which he oriented himself in the midst of rocks and tree roots, his feet finding a solid place to land at each step. The idea of Kirsten being devoured by the beast served as a good incentive.

Then, after what felt like ages of running, he arrived at the scene. There was Kirsten, dressed in her full Stormcloak armor, standing at the edge of a cliff. In her right hand, she had a shield lifted up protectively in front of her face, and the sword in her other hand was pulled back with the tip pointed forwards at her adversary.

Castorius' jaw dropped. Not on account of seeing the woman, but rather the thing she was up against. It was in fact no bear all, but a giant, ugly animal on two legs, covered in a coat of white fur, and with a pair of massively muscular arms hanging almost all the way down to its feet. A hefty simian head stood on wide shoulders, a mouth full of sharp teeth hanging open and a feverish look in two of its eyes—the third eye sitting largely expressionless between its brows.

A frost troll. Castorius had so far managed to avoid seeing one of them in person. In that regard, apparently, his luck had changed.

Kirsten did not look to have noticed his arrival, and he could scarcely blame her for it. She was yelling something at the creature that he could not make sense of. Either it was some language he'd never heard before—maybe some ancient Nordic tongue revived by the Stormcloaks—or she was simply too in the grips of horror to make any intelligible words anymore. Castorius thought it might have been the latter option, for he himself felt abundant fear even from this distance—even when he himself had not been targeted by this horrible beast.

He cursed inside. And they'd let her come here by herself!

The creature then made a lurch at Kirsten. It threw its massive arms at her, and she caught the blow with her shield. She was pushed backwards a step from the undoubtedly enormous power behind the strike, and made a pained grunt.

The troll took a step back itself. It cocked its head backwards and spread its arms, then gave a gut-wrenching scream. Castorius felt his legs start to wobble. Not now!

The beast then looked to prepare for another charge, and Castorius felt something surge from the pit of his stomach. Surprisingly, it was not horror. It was anger. He would not stand idly by and watch this woman be torn apart by this disgusting beast! He would do . . . something.

So, just as the frost troll took a step towards Kirsten, Castorius did what he had gotten into a habit of doing these past few days, and went with his gut. This time it prompted him to run.

And not towards safety, either. No, he found himself charging straight at Kirsten and the monster. A passing inquiry went through his head, wondering what it might possible he'd do once he'd reached them, but this was no time for considering such details.

He was smart enough not to yell as he charged. He'd still not been noticed, which was exactly the way he wanted it. He needed his attack to be a surprise. With his long legs, it did not take him too long to reach his destination. He prepared himself, clenched up each muscle in his body and slammed against . . .

Kirsten.

The woman had had just about enough time to catch a glimpse of Castorius storming at her. A quick succession of different emotions quickly flashed on her face—first surprise, then confusion, and then shock—and she opened her mouth as if to say something, but by then it was too late, and his bulk hitting her sent her backwards. She hit the ground right at the edge where the hill sloped downwards, rolled off her shoulder, and was sent rolling down the hill.

At least it wasn't a steep fall, Castorius reflected, if a little late at that.

He just about had kept himself from losing his footing as well. He steadied himself as he watched Kirsten skidding down the hill, and hoped she hadn't hurt herself—and that she could stop her fall before she did.

Castorius then thought there might have been something else—

A hateful roar beside him snapped him out of his stupor. The frost troll had quickly recovered from the disappointment caused by the loss of its prize, look as it did that a fresh one had immediately taken its place. It rejoiced in this convenient happenstance by letting out another blood-chilling bellow. The sound was a bit as if a mountain were being dragged out of its place—that is, if the mountain happened to be very upset by this sudden act of relocation.

"Uh," Castorius said to the beast. His blood was pumping in his ears with such intensity, he could hear nearly nothing else. Somewhere in the distance was the faint hiss of his own ragged breathing. Time slowed down, and the monster kept blurring in and out of focus in front of his eyes. A tiny voice somewhere in his head was trying to reach out to him. What did it want?

Do something!

Castorius shook his head. Of course!

Out of the blue, a powerful jolt of energy surged through his body. The fear subsided, and all of a sudden the beast in front of him looked half as frightening as it just had a second ago. That was not to say it still wasn't a very disconcerting sight. But at least now Castorius could feel his limbs being free to move again, and not crippled by sheer terror.

The frost troll roared again. But this time Castorius roared back. And, for a second, it was almost as if the creature frowned at this unexpected response. It certainly looked surprised.

Now! Castorius reached for the scabbard at his side, swiftly unbuckled it. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and he brought the blade out in one smooth sweeping motion.

Maybe it was about time the thing saw some real action for once!

The beast looked at the blade with its bloodshot eyes, and Castorius thought he saw something like fear in them. Encouraged, he jabbed the blade towards the monster's massive head, and let out a confrontational exclamation.

That's right! Next time you'll think twice before setting yourself up against—

A flash of something not even anger proper—rather irritation, like the kind an elephant might express over a pesky little fly—visited the creature's face. It then took a quick step forward, tossed its tree-trunk of a left arm, and struck at Castorius' blade right above the crossguard. The impact was as brutal as it was sudden; a shock went down his arm and all the way up to his shoulder. The fingers loosened their grip on the hilt, and the weapon went flying off the cliff, crashing downwards like a weighted kite.

Suddenly unarmed—in more ways than one, since his right arm had gone all the way numb—Castorius found the tables turned on him in a manner most unwelcome. The frost troll's disposition was every bit as belligerent as before, and by blessing of nature, its own weapons—the gods-awfully overlong arms ending in a set of sharp claws, and the full set of sharp, yellow teeth which culminated in the very poignant looking pair of canines the length of Castorius' pinkies—were quite an unalienable part of its make-up.

"Uh," Castorius said.

The beast roared.

Then it charged.

It was a question of mere fractions of a second Castorius' head didn't get knocked off its pedestal, as the creature threw those sure-to-be-deadly black claws straight at it. He just about managed to throw himself backwards and out of the way—acting with not a hint of reason or self-awareness.

But, as it went, the omission of those two aspects of his being had its obvious drawback. While his foremost motivation was quite logically to avert the fatal blow of that freakishly thick and long arm, what would follow was left entirely without consideration.

He yelped out in agony as he landed back-first straight on a boulder lying right in his way. It took him on the right shoulder, and he rolled to his left, ending up on his stomach in the half-frozen muck. Wind half knocked out of him and the pain now radiating back from his shoulder towards the still benumbed fingers, it took him a second to find his bearings again.

The sudden sharp pain in his left calf helped to clear his mind right up.

Castorius screamed, snapping his head back. The frost troll had dug its claws into the back of his leg, and was holding on tight. With no cloth to hold them back, the sharp nails were biting right into his skin. The pain was sharp and hot, and he felt a wave of nausea seeing blood start to seep onto the dirty snow.

The creature bent down, opening wide its mouth lined with razor-sharp dentures. Castorius' leg must have looked like a juicy snack, for sure. He felt a panic, but couldn't pull his leg free from the frost troll's iron grip, and the claws sunk into his flesh hurt something fierce as he moved it.

So he used his free leg and aimed as hard a kick as he could at the monstrous head. The heel of his boot took the frost troll on the cheekbone, and the creature gave an annoyed shrug of its head. He took another shot, this one hitting the beast's nose. Another irked shake, but the grip still held. More and more blood was being relocated from his veins onto the ground.

Winding his leg as far back as he could, and putting all the force of his prone form into the motion, Castorius gave it one more kick—this time directed at the one eye sitting at the middle of the furrowed forehead. It was a clear hit, and upon impact the frost troll let out a roar. This time it was not out of anger, but clearly out of pain.

The animal pulled back, releasing his leg. Even the pulling out of those nails hurt like nothing he remembered experiencing before.

Taking the chance he was given, he clumsily scampered onto his feet. His wounded leg hurt, and since he couldn't put his full weight on it, he had to drag it behind somewhat. In addition, his right arm had still not regained its full sensation.

But he was alive and in one piece. For now.

The frost troll was still clearly intent on remedying that situation. It had quickly recovered from the assault directed at its extraneous ocular, and based on its fervent grunting, obviously harbored some resentment.

On the other hand, the beast clearly bore a permanent grudge for anything still living and not at its immediate culinary disposal.

Castorius, in any case, was clearly still on the menu. As he'd barely gotten back onto his feet, the beast lurched after him. And while the creature was much larger than any predator had any right to be, it was also very fast. Castorius, unfortunately, was neither of those things. The frost troll was on him within a blink. It struck him hard in the back, and he was sent toppling back onto his face. At least he had just enough time to get his hands out to cut the fall, but still scraped his cheek hard on the gravel underneath the light coat of snow. He tasted blood. He thought he must have bitten the tip of his tongue.

He rolled to the left just before the frost troll's brawny leg crushed him underneath it. He didn't wait around for another try, but sprang to his feet as nimbly as possible, which was not very. He heard a whooshing sound as the beast's giant paw whipped behind his back, missing only by a hair's breadth. He stumbled, nearly loosing his footing, and just managed to stay on his feet by grabbing a hold of a the sturdy trunk of an old spruce.

He heard the frost troll's heavy steps as it charged at him, and flung himself behind the tree. On the other side, there was the sound of the creature crashing into the spruce, its claws splintering bark. Castorius pulled back a bit, staying behind the trunk. The frost troll appeared from the left side of it, trying to reach him with its long arm. Castorius strafed to his right while still keeping the tree between the monster and himself.

They circled around it a few times, then, the troll trying time and time again to scratch at him. But even with his awkward hobble, Castorius proved to be just fast enough to evade the attempts.

Then, quite unexpectedly, as he had gotten a steady rhythm going—trying to figure out how to break free from the limbo of circling the tree like a child playing tag—the frost troll took him off guard by changing directions. He almost ran straight into the monster's embrace, so completely unprepared was he for this sudden show of intelligence on the part of this humongous freak of nature.

There was almost a gleeful quality to the snarl on the creature's face, as if it had not missed the cleverness of this sudden move.

Castorius just barely dodged the troll's deathly hug, but, as he started to make a break for it, was hit in the rear by the creature's backhand. He didn't lose his balance right away, but instead plodded forwards with a series of long and uncoordinated strides, each one but an attempt to keep himself from falling flat onto his face again.

Then, finally, he ran out of those redeeming steps, lost the order of his feet, and the solid earth raced to greet him once more. Sparks of light flashed in his eyes as he hit the ground.

Once down, he flopped onto his back, feeling the last fight drain out of him. His body felt to weigh a ton, his entire right arm from shoulder to fingertips was throbbing with a dull ache, and the burning sensation in his bleeding leg was intensifying with every heartbeat. Should it not be getting numb by now?

The beast was walking toward him unhurriedly now, like it also knew what Castorius knew. There would be no more fight left. What would follow now would be strictly a formality—the clinking of the glass and the ill-prepared desultory speech of washed-out platitudes before the food could finally be served. The raw animal hunger behind the brittle facade of civilization.

Well, perhaps there were no facades where this beast was considered. There was something refreshing about such brutal honesty.

Me, die an honest death? he thought with sour amusement. There's just got to be an irony there!

The frost troll sauntered on with the sure gracefulness of a certain death, its raspy breath coming slow and heavy like from bellows of Oblivion. A low, steady growl from its throat accompanied the hoarse wheeze.

Castorius closed his eyes.

No! He opened them right back up. If he was going to die, he'd at least face it unblinking.

The beast loomed above him, a hulk of white shag and snarl blotting the sun, its shadowed bulk of a head crowned with a spiky halo, like some particularly hideous angel of death.

This is it. Do your worst. Castoriuswas quite baffled by the lack of fear in him. Or would have been, had he cared anymore. Everything felt distant; even the previously so prevalent pain in his arm and leg were nothing more but ambiguous little throbs in the back of his mind. A second time within the space of just a few days that he felt he might die within seconds; maybe he was getting better at it. He was an old hand by now, at being so close to the final frontier.

Though the faint sense of unreality about it he'd felt the last time was entirely absent now. In its place was a certain crushing certainty.

Yet all the pain and fear were gone, too. Perhaps dying—actually dying—was really less painful than living was.

He all but scoffed out loud at the pathetic sentiment. Was that the truth of him, in the end?

Luckily, though, it seemed as if all such inconvenient questions would soon be rendered void.

The hideous thing bent down towards him, drool glistening in its fangs. Castorius' eyes were open. Come on, then!

A thundering bellow erupted out of the creature's gaping maw, and Castorius' eyes squeezed shut tight. He felt a smelly wad of spittle splash on his face. He thought with half a mind there'd been an odd high-pitched side note to the roar.

The things one noticed, as it was all about to end.

And he waited.

But nothing happened.

It might have been a fraction of a second or a stretch of several hours, but all Castorius knew was how very silent everything was.

Had it happened already?

When he finally managed to crack open an eye, he was stunned to find himself once more face to face with the sharp end of a blade. At the other end, this time around, was the head of the frost troll, mouth still hanging belligerently open, saliva dripping off the fangs. The blade jutted out from between the gaping jaws, stained red. A trickle of blood ran down the groove at the middle of the flat side, falling off the tip and drip-drip-dripping on Castorius' breastplate.

He blinked, trying to take it in. The animal's eyes stared at him with intercepted hatred from beyond.

"Could you possibly," came the feminine voice from behind the animal's dead grimace, "get out of thefucking way!?"

"Uh?" Castorius said. He peered past the frost troll, saw Kirsten standing there, holding on to the hilt off the sword stuck in the dead beast's skull. She looked a little strained from holding the creature up.

Castorius came to, and rolled out from underneath.

Once he was clear, Kirsten let the frost troll slump onto the ground. She pressed her boot against the creature's neck, and pulled out her sword. She wiped the gore off into the dead animal's fur, and stuck the blade back in its sheathe.

Castorius ran his hand over his face, and it also came back red. Not spittle, after all.

Kirsten then turned to him. She was all quiet, just stared at him. It was not a happy stare. Her clothes were covered with snow and dirt, and there were scrapes on her face and on the backs of her hands.

She walked beside Castorius as he scampered back to his feet.

"Uh," he said.

Kirsten still said nothing, just stood in front of him, staring, the look in her blue her eyes getting harder and harder, the muscles in her face all tightened up. Her overall coloring was gravitating towards bright crimson.

Probably this would be a good time to say a little something more. "Sorry—"

He was cut short by the powerful open-handed smack Kirsten dealt him. She put all her weight behind it, too. And it stung. A lot. His head whipped to the side, and he felt something crack in his neck.

Okay, probably I had that one coming. Castorius faced the woman anew; she wasn't looking any less mad. "I was only trying to help," he tried.

Backhand this time, and his head whipped the other way. It hurt even worse, and he though a tooth might have been knocked loose. He tasted blood, and his ears rang.

Before there were any more chances for him to try and explain himself, Kirsten was all over him. She grabbed him by the collar and violently pushed him backwards.

Castorius' back slammed against a tree, and what little wind there was left in him was knocked right out. Kirsten pressed him against the tree, her eyes aflame with rage.

He was fumbling for words, any words, but none were available.

Kirsten nailed him with her intense stare. "You are a fool!" she hissed, spraying him with spit.

At that moment, even if he had managed to get a word out of his mouth, he was not feeling inclined to argue. As Kirsten stared at him with those eyes like burning ice, he could not bring himself to look away—despite really, really wanting to.

Then, something in the woman altered. Her face twitching with anger shifted a little, and if it didn't exactly soften, a different, more conflicted, emotion found room on it. She shook her head. "And a moron."

Castorius blinked.

Kirsten breathed long through her nose, eyes still on his. "But damn it if you ain't a cute one!"

Huh?

The Nord woman then gave him a kiss most aggressive. Castorius' bruised lip hurt, but despite the pain he did nothing to resist. He answered to the assault to the best of his ability

Feeling himself immediately start to harden up, he realized his body had fully recovered from its state of numbness. In the midst of all the sensation, though, the pain was also as present as ever.

But, at the moment, he did not care in the least.

I'll take what I can get! he thought.

And so he did.

And it was good.