Chapter 2

Wuuthrad is not a book! It's not a freaking book! Who the hell wants to steal an artifact so important to people who literally fight each other for fun? Are they new to this gods damned place like I am? I couldn't go back and demand a new job without looking like a coward. I needed to do this, even if it meant possibly being turned into a pinata by these guys. Though, how I'm supposed to get all the pieces of the thing when they're not all found.

Day six of my time as a Companion; I think Vilkas suspects something. I mean seriously, the guys like always watching me as if I'm the most interesting thing in the world. He already voiced his suspicions to the Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane. Luckily, the old guy just laughed him off, saying he worried too much. After that Vilkas backed off, becoming some suspicious brooder that questioned everything I did. I needed to answer the call of nature and he was standing at the door asking which house I'd just robbed. I almost burst out that I didn't even know where the hell my item of interest was.

Aela and this Skjor fellow didn't like me very much either. I really didn't care because neither of them were following me around at night, it's still annoying to have people glaring at you for no reason. At least everyone else is nice and doesn't make me run around to bring their shields to Eorlund Graymane. Ria seemed really keen on cozying up to me and I don't blame her, I am a very handsome man. Njada stopped being such a bitch to me when I clocked her in the face after she called me an, "unwanted bastard of a Nord and a milk-drinking Breton". I, of course, had to explain both my parents were Bretons and my father was the captain of the Queen's guard (which is true). Torvar just wanted to drink, which made me concerned as to how he could wield a sword. Athis liked to talk about glory, strange for an elf, but everyone's a misfit here I guess.

It's about one in the morning and I swear I can hear some very inhuman sounds coming from Aela's room. Maybe she has a dog? Or perhaps two? I've never seen any around though, strange. Not my problem right now; I just need to find where they keep all the fragments. Unlike the rich guys I've robbed, the Companions didn't leave their most valued possession in a lock box on display. I have a feeling they are all probably in the Harbinger's quarters because it was probably the safest place here. I don't think they expect inside jobs since I'm probably the only idiot to attempt it. The door was never even locked.

"What are you doing up so late?" A heavily accented voice said from behind me. Well, I really didn't need that pair of pants anyway.

I turn around to face a half naked Vilkas glaring at me. I didn't even hear him leave his room. Either I'm not being as cautious as I should or this guy should be a thief. I need a lie, "I was trying to find out what was going on with Aela. I sleep by the wall that separates her room from the whelp room and I can't sleep with all the strange noises. Do you know if she has dogs?"

"Why don't you invest in cotton for your ears and mind your own business," He said defensively, stiffening after that statement. What's so weird about asking if someone had dogs? "Go back to bed, whelp."

Gee, who put a bee in this guys smalls? "Why are you up so late?"

"I don't sleep well when there's a thief under our roof," He said icily. "Now go to bed."

I gave a sigh, "I'm not a thief, I just happen to wear the uniform because I like the fit. It makes my butt look good and the colors really bring out my eyes," He just glared at the sarcasm. "Besides, if I were a thief; why would I join up with you guys instead of just sneaking in and taking what I wanted?"

"Because you're not stupid," Vilkas deadpanned. "You know you would have to gain our trust to take from us without being beaten to a bloody pulp. We're not an ordinary mark and you had to come up with a better method."

Mara's mercy, if there were more guys like him in the city guard the Thieve's Guild would be obliterated. "Stop reading all the detective novels there, Vilkas. I think they're making you a bit paranoid."

"I know you're up to something and I will-" Thank the nine for small miracles because just as Mr. Broody was about to go off on some rant about what he was going to do to me, Kodlak walked out.

The old man surveyed the situation, "You two argue as if you're married and act as if you're children," He spoke to Vilkas first. "I thought I told you to drop the matter, I trust him and he hasn't wronged anyone yet," My turn, yay me. "If you keep sneaking around in the middle of the night people are going to get suspicious. Be thankful it's only be Vilkas and I who've heard you. Now both of you better get some semblance of sleep because tomorrow you two are going to follow up on a lead about another fragment of Wuuthrad. It'll be a nice team building exercise as well as a trial for you, Bayard. Go to bed."

Well, I can't speak for Vilkas, but I haven't been spoken to that way since I was a child. However those two had heard me was a mystery since I've snuck past a wood elf before. Now I have to go on a trial with a guy who thought I was worse than daedra. On the upside, I was going to retrieve a piece of the freaking axe I needed to steal and that would probably open up a way for me to see where they kept the other pieces. Or this could all totally backfire; I'd never get the axe, never return to the Guild, and be stuck in a group of warriors that didn't pay all that well. Or worse; they find out I'm part of the guild and make sure I never breathe again. Lucky me.

Traveling with Vilkas was like getting your rocks off on a grindstone; painful and will end in disaster. The guy was a barrel of oil under a lamp that was held by the world's thinnest rope that was fraying. He just keeps looking at me like I kicked his puppy under a cart right in front of the vindictive bastard. My usual charm is not cutting it with him and I could charm a miser out of his last coin. Do I just be all taciturn and untrusting like him? Is that how I win some brownie points? Seriously, I'll try anything to get him off my back.

"How much farther 'til Dustman's Cairn?" I asked without even looking at him.

My peripherals told me he did the same thing, "Just over the bridge."

Thus, the conversation died, and the bridge was so very far away. I wasn't going to bother asking him about the crumbling castle to our left. He would probably give me some curt response about it being some famous landmark in Skyrim and I was an ignorant outsider who just came to join the Thieve's Guild. It wasn't like I came to Skyrim unprepared. Unless you count the fact I sauntered right into an Imperial ambush because I didn't realize the nice Nords I was allowed to travel with, were in fact rebels that were wanted by the empire for treason and murder. You know, that story could prove to be a nice talking point...

"Do I just have a face that people mistrust?Or do people who spend any amount of time here become automatically suspicious of everybody?" I gave out the rhetorical questions to see if he would bite. Nope. "I mean, this bitch at Helgen just wanted to behead me because I was there."

"You were at Helgen?" Vilkas asked in a not accusing tone. Now we're getting somewhere.

I nodded, "You see, I was actually on my way to Winterhold to visit my cousin at the college. I had to go through Cyrodiil first to deliver a letter to my Mother's aunt in Cheydinhal since couriers are too expensive," The whole aunt thing was true and I swear I gained ten pounds when I visited for a day. "I came up through the border a little while afterwards and happened upon a camp of Nords heading in the same direction. Back in High Rock I used to know a Nord named Gunjar who told me he had fought alongside a man named Ulfric Stormcloak. On the way here I heard about him killing Skyrim's High King from some innkeeper. Neither had given me a description of the man and no one in the camp was acting as if anyone was important. So I had no way..."
"You camped...with Ulfric Stormcloak...and did not know who he was?" Vilkas asked as if that was not knowing who Talos was. "You came to Skyrim and can't identify any of the Jarls?"

"Not the point of the story and I don't think he wanted to be noticed by outsiders while near the border of Cyrodiil. I can say that he is very idealistic and I beat him at charades," And I did, no joke. "Anyway, these Nords let me travel with them because they thought I was a Nord, like most everyone else does. Except for Ralof, who figured me at least half Breton because what full-blooded Nord has dark, loose curls. So that night we were all going to sleep or drinking or whatever, when suddenly there's the entire Imperial army surrounding us. Plus a few Thalmor.'

"Well, here's little ol' me, all tucked in bed scared out of my wits because I have had some trouble with the Thalmor in the past," Truth was I had accidentally pissed off the ambassador to High Rock when I broke out of his prison not three minutes after they locked me up for looking like a Nord. "People began to fight, many were killed. In the confusion I wound up getting knocked out. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the back of cart on my way to Helgen with Ulfric, Ralof, another rebel, and some random horse thief named Lokir. Don't know where he came from, poor bastard.'

"The carriage ride mostly consisted of banter between Ralof, Lokir, and the other rebel since my head hurt and Ulfric was a bit...tied up. When we arrived at Helgen we were herded off the cart like cattle and this Captain bitch was standing next to a nice guy with a list. They began calling us off one by one. Lokir tried to run, but wound up with an arrow in his back. I was not on the list and had to tell them my name, Bayard Cordeau, and I swear someone mutters 'must be a bastard'. Now, here's me hoping they're going to say," I put on the highest pitched voice I could. "You're innocent, you don't get your head chopped off!" Normal voice back on. "But, no, the bitch Captain just told me to go to the block like a good little boy."

"Probably thought you were a thief," Vilkas muttered.

I shook my head, "No, I was in rags at the time considering my aunt had no clothes to give me and I had already walked from High Rock to Cyrodiil. At any rate, they execute the first guy after Tulius gives a nice little speech and a Priestess gives us our funeral rights. It's my turn after him, so they call me up. The Imperial execution system needs work because they didn't even move the body when I went up, just kicked it over. Anyway, the guy had the axe about to come down on my head when a dragon appears. I can't say out of nowhere because we were hearing roars for like ten minutes before hand, no one was competent enough to check it out I guess.'

"This dragon just starts raining fire on the land and everyone's scrambling. The executioners dead, the bitch Captain dies by my hand and with some help from Ralof, and we escape Helgen through the keep. Never really found out what happened to the rebel. Oh, the bridge."

During my story we had finally made our way to the bridge. I could see mud crabs scurrying about below and a guy with a goat passed us with a greeting. Vilkas seemed to be in a better mood, though I couldn't tell if that was from my story or being closer to our destination. I hope it was my story because all that literally happened, leaving out a few good details of course. At least we would reach our destination well before night fall since it was an hour before midday. According to Vilkas, Dustman's Cairne is a crypt the ancient Nords built and who wants to be stuck in one of those at night? Not the guy afraid of the walking dead, that's for sure (a.k.a. me).

"We'll eat lunch before we head inside," Vilkas says after my stomach decides to make itself known. "I doubt you would want to eat this early or eat with the stench of the dead in the tomb."

I nodded in agreement, beginning to see the odd structure in a hill just a head of us. When I started this journey, my main concern was trying to get Vilkas to like me since that would definitely get him to stop being a snoop. Now, that I think about it, I really don't want to go in there. My brother emotionally scarred me when I was younger by locking me in a section of the underground catacombs near the city. I had stayed in one place until the Priest of Arkay found me, but I swear I could hear shuffling in those halls. And that I was touched lovingly on the cheek by the bones of a hand during the night. I bet the bones in Skyrim would be anything but benign.