Chapter 6:

My legs hurt… Those the words that continued to resound in Beras' empty head. He loved horses, but riding them was such a horrid form of transportation. Couldn't they make saddles a bit more comfortable? A simple cushion would make a world of differences. They had been riding for only a few short hours and already he could feel bruises forming all over the upper parts of his legs.

Suddenly, Sandshine ran over a bump in the path, sending Beras a few inches into the air. It wasn't a very far fall back to the horse's back, but it was enough to cause him to wince in pain.

A nord woman to his right glared over at him. She had long dirty blonde hair that was blowing back from the wind caused by rushing forward on her horse. Her eyes were brilliantly blue, and they went well with her slightly gold skin. "What's the matter Beras?" she scoffed. "Too soft for a short trip? Why don't you run back to your mother, milk drinker!"

A second nord woman rode up behind the two of them, almost identical to the first. The only noticable difference was that her eyes were green. "Way to be insensitive Bruda. His mom is dead. You were there when Anvil got attacked, remember?"

Bruda sneered. "Malia, just go back to your-"

"Our," inturrupted Malia. "Our mother. Or has the fact that we're twins not sunk into that thick skull of yours?"

Bruda growled, gritting her teeth.

Malia smiled kindly at Beras. "Don't let her get to you. She's rude to everyone."

Beras smiled back awkwardly, not making eye contact. Malia was overkind. Naturally Bruda was mean to everyone, but everyone knew she hated him in particular. Ever since he spilled the mead he was bringing to her all across her bed sheets, she had gone out of her way to try to torment him.

He shook his head and looked forwards. They would be coming up on the Imperial City soon. He didn't want to miss seeing the White Gold Tower up close!

Another hour or so passed before they got close. Lake Rumare shimmered in the setting sun, giving an orangish glow to the beautiful white walls of the city. Beras looked to the front of the band of Blades and saw that the captain was talking in hushed whispers to several other high ranking members.

Oh please, he thought. Let them say we're staying here for the night! He had always dreamed of seeing the inside of the palace, of seeing the dragon statue in the temple that had, according to legend, appeared after the last of the Septim dynasty ended the Oblivion Crisis. Not to mention, he didn't think he'd ever be able to walk again if he didn't get off this stupid saddle.

Suddenly, captain Aereth held up his hand to draw their attention. Once everyone was listening, he shouted back at them, "I hope you brought gold, because staying the night in the city isn't cheap! Those who didn't can sleep with the beggars!"

Beras couldn't help but smile and look up at the starry sky, shutting his eyes in relief. Then his eyes shot open in a panic. He quickly slapped his hand to his side to check whether or not he had brought his coin purse, then quietly thanked the gods when he found he indeed had. By the feel of it, he certainly had enough for a room in an inn, and probably some left after that to spend in the market.

Dismounting Sandshine was such a relief. The group walked their horses over to the stables. The small wooden shack looked old, and signs of many repairs throughout the years were visible all across it. A tattered old sign read "Chestnut-Handy Stables."

A young orc woman opened the door when they knocked. She looked as though she had just leaped out of bed, which of course, was probably what had happened. "What do you want?" She snapped.

"We were just letting you know that we were leaving a lot of horses in your stables so you wouldn't be alarmed when you saw them," Aereth replied in a polite tone.

The woman slowly closed the door, mumbling something about the "stupid family buisness" and how after "centuries of horses" someone should have at least thought of a change in career.

Aereth then turned to address his soldiers. "Alright men. And women. There are only so many inns in this city, so I'm going to have to assign rooms to you all. Anthir, Adulf and I will take the first room in the Tiber Septim Hotel. Bruda, Malia, and Cyna will take the other."

Bruda and Malia gave out identical groans of irritation at having been placed in the same room. Anthir looked between his roommates, clearly annoyed for some reason that all their names started with the letter "A".

"Sabel, Adwyth, and Annet will take the first room in the Merchant's Inn, and Behrta, Beras, and Gylas will take the second room. Everyone else will take a room in the All Saints Inn."

Beras shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know Behrta or Gylas very well, only that the latter was quite possibly the most rowdy and loud person he had ever met. Should any of the three of them get any sleep, it would be a miracle.

Aereth cleared his throat to draw back everyone's attention. "We meet back here at ten in the morning. If so much as one person is late, rest assured we won't be stopping until we reach Elsweyr."

The group disbanded, each set heading off towards their designated inn. Too tired to look around at his beautiful surroundings, Beras decided to wait until morning to sightsee.

A few minutes and five coins later, he sat on his bed in the room they had rented, massaging his rear end and thighs, which ached persistently from the long ride. Before he even knew what was happening, Gylas threw himself down onto the bed next to him and wrapped his arm around Beras's shoulder. He was well built and muscular, not as tall as Beras but certainly not short. He had muddy brown hair and dark brown eyes, and a square jawline.

"Massaging those rock hard glutes of yours?" he asked teasingly.

Beras flushed a bright red that spread across his face and ears, and tensed up. He stopped trying to ease his pain, and looked straight down at the floor.

Gylas laughed and pushed him over onto the bed. "Seriously, lighten up!" Seeing Beras wasn't getting up, he began bouncing lightly, a playfully stupid grin across his face. "Come on!" he said. "It's so rare that we are away from the captains and other people who might rat us out! We can talk about whatever we want!" Again seeing Beras's unresponsiveness, he nudged him with his foot. "What do you want to talk about? The choice is yours, though I wouldn't say no to a conversation about your pretty nord girlfriend."

"I don't want to talk," Beras moaned quietly, his ears now even brighter red, if that was at all possible. "And I don't have a girlfriend."

Gylas gave him a skeptical look. "First of all, who doesn't want to talk? You don't actually plan on sleeping, do you?" He bounced higher this time, and landed stretched out across the bed, parallel to Beras. Their faces were inches from each other, one with a gleeful expression, the other one of suppressed horror.

The door swung open and Behrta stepped in, a tall but thin Breton with jet black hair. "What in the name of Mara…?!"

Gylas sat up quickly. "Bah," he said. "You're no fun Beras." Without another word he leaped off the bed and latched onto Behrta, sending him to the ground.

Behrta shoved him off, and tried to stand. "What the-" He couldn't finish his sentence before being pulled back to the ground.

Beras pulled the pillow up over his head, trying to block out the sound. He could tell it was going to be a long night.