Argis originally felt lost without his position as a warrior of Markarth to give him direction. He had a good deal of coin saved up from his previous rewards from the Jarl and lived off of it while the shock of Firjald's betrayal and the jarl's hatred shook him. He quietly hoped that either one of them would call on him and tell him that he could try again and prove himself. Of course, neither of them did and Argis gradually gave up hope of regaining either his position or Firjald's love.
With the death of the hagraven and the opening of the silver mines, Markarth became a wealthier city than it had been, and many came to it hoping to profit off of its newfound prosperity. Of course, all these new ventures would want capable guards with sharp swords to ensure their interests would be protected. Caravan's travelling to and from the other cities would need guards against bandits or other general monsters. This was where Argis found his new niche.
Some of the employers were leery of a scarred and half blind swordsman, but a demonstration of his skill was all it took to have them signing Argis on to guard their wares, operations, or caravans. He even developed a small reputation as a capable and worthy guard.
The influx of Nords from different holds, and even outside races, helped Argis see the world outside of Markarth. The passing years lessened the sting of his lost prestige, and quietly replaced it with a bitter numbness and cynicism that coloured what he saw in the world.
The years slid by as Argis made a decent living but never moved out of his small home. Slowly, he became use to being a faceless mercenary and not the housecarl of the thane of Markarth. The freedom to choose who to work for and where to fight was a sharp contrast to the orders he often followed as a housecarl.
It was five years after his curt dismissal that word spread through the city that the thane and his housecarl had died. The news struck Argis hard and he didn't know whether to be happy or sad. He felt a bitter joy over knowing that Firjald's coldness came back to him eventually, but he also felt a great sadness over lost hope. The little hope nagging in the back of his head, the hope that things might one day go back to the way they were, died with Firjald. He coldly tried to deny the little voice that continued saying that he was not just sad over lost position, but over lost love. The world was irrevocably changed for Argis with the death of the thane. He heard the announcement but did not attend the funeral for the two. The housecarl's honourable burial galled him and left a bitter taste in his mouth. The man was lucky enough to have died in his failure.
A decade after Firjald's death saw Argis prosperous but not wealthy, and content but not happy. He had just finished guarding a caravan to Dawnstar and was now in bed with one of the other guards from the caravan.
His long tail stroking and tickling Argis' thighs as they lay in bed, the Khajiit spoke up, "Rha'sharj does not wish to spoil the mood, but you seem...less than happy. The performance went well, yes?"
Argis shook himself out his reverie and smiled and the lithe Khajiit gently running his claws down Argis' chest while tracing scars and muscles. He smiled and replied, "Of course. I can see why people say the agility of the Khajiit is a very valuable thing."
The trailing fingers stopped for a moment before continuing and the Khajiit spoke up softly, "But you are dissatisfied with me."
His hand trailed down the Khajiit's tawny fur to his nether regions and Argis replied, "Nothing there dissatisfied me, Rha'sharj." He sighed leaned back, looking at the ceiling as he continued, "It's everything. It's the empty coin and the empty beds. It's not enough."
The Khajiit snorted an amused laugh, "I am surprised to discover that I do not exist." His ears perked up, "Then again, if this is an empty bed, your idea of a full one would be very interesting..."
Argis chuckled and looked to his companion, "You know what I mean. In the morning, you will go your way and I will go mine. Perhaps we will meet on another contract, but what are the chances?"
Rha'sharj shrugged in response, "Would it matter? You would simply find another."
Argis began to sputter out a protest, but the Khajiit waved his hand dismissively, "It does not matter. You took your pleasure by pressing that wood elf into your bedroll during the caravan and Rha'sharj does not begrudge you that. This Khajiit similarly takes his pleasure pressing you into this bed."
Argis blushed slightly and hesitantly asked, "You knew?"
Flicking his ear, the Khajiit replied, "The Wood Elf tried to be quiet, but I am not as deaf as an Imperial." His predatory gaze raking down the Nord's body, he continued, "Rha'sharj can understand why he was unable to be silent though." Rha'sharj chuckled but sobered quickly and sadly added, "You do not live for the same things that Rha'sharj lives for. This is why you will never be happy with this life."
Not wanting to admit the truth behind his words, Argis grunted noncommittally and kept staring at the ceiling. Rha'sharj shook his head and continued, "The money they pay us – it slips through this one's claws so quickly. It turns into moonsugar, food, wine... beautiful companions. What does it become for you? A good meal for a free Khajiit and nothing more." He grinned as Argis winced and shook his head. Continuing despite the man's protests, Rha'sharj spoke, "You need more to live for. Find another hold and find honour there, perhaps. Honour is the Nord's moonsugar." He looked sadly at Argis and added, "No matter how well Rha'sharj does, it will never make you truly happy, and that is what Rha'sharj lives for. Not honour, but the sharing of pleasure and joy." Argis winced at Rha'sharj's words. In his misery, he had hurt the Khajiit in a way he had not expected to.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Argis strode down the streets of Dawnstar thinking of the Khajiit's words. They rang starkly true with him but he wondered what else he could do. He had not been to his parent's farm in years and he wondered if it even still stood. He tried to imagine the peace of farming and the tranquility of tilling the earth, but the image made him grimace. A warrior's path was what rang true for him.
He mentally ran through the other holds and how he could server them, but the prospect of starting over new did not entice him any more than the farm did. He felt a kinship with Markarth's terraced stone structures and frowned at the prospect of never seeing it again. As much as he hated it sometimes, it was ultimately his home.
He applied to a caravan returning to Markarth, and the caravan master happily accepted him. Argis smiled to himself at the effect his name had on different people. Among the elite of Markarth, it was a bane that was ignored whenever possible, but among the mercenaries he was a prized fighter and valuable asset.
He was no longer the young man that he had been, but he what he lost in raw energy he more than made up for in technique and skill. His mercenary career also preserved his body against weakness and forced him to keep his strength up. Having to constantly fight for his life kept his body and wits sharp, and he mentally laughed at the idea of being farmer. His mind would be as quick as the wheat he was harvesting and he shook his head ruefully at the possibility of becoming so dull witted.
The caravan he signed on with left early the next day, which suited his purposes. He wanted to return to Markarth, and the silence of his home. He needed to think.
The trip back to Markarth was a quiet one. The silhouette of a man above the horizon put the guards on edge for an ambush, but their caution ultimately proved fruitless. The towering gates of Markarth filled Argis with the inexplicable mixture of dread and relief as the caravan wended its way into their shadow. He accepted his pay from the caravan master who reminded him that a position would always be open in his caravan for a warrior like Argis. Smiling politely, Argis thanked the man and went towards his home.
Standing in front of his house was a courier with his arms crossed, looking very annoying. "There you are!" the young Nord exclaimed. Argis' face must have registered confusion because the man elaborated in an exasperated voice, "I've been looking all over the city for you for two days. The jarl wants to see you right now."
Argis looked ruefully at the shelter presented by his home but sighed and told the messenger that he would head to the Understone Keep. He flipped the other man a coin as a tip before heading into his house to quickly wash the road's dust off his face.
His head was whirling with the possible reasons he was being summoned to the jarl after a decade and a half of silence. He had heard rumours of some adventurer trying to become the thane, but nothing conclusive yet. Suddenly, he worried that it had something to do with the Thalmore lurking in the shadows. He primarily worshipped Dibella, so the Thalmor agents in Markarth couldn't pin Talos worship on him. By Oblivion, he had not even been in the city for most of the time.
His stride was confident as he headed up the city to Understone Keep, but it merely covered his nervousness. He quickly arrived at the keep, and sighed softly to himself to not recognize the guards at the gate. They were both young recruits and they scowled at him fiercely as he passed. He coldly ignored the two watchdogs.
He arrived at the Mournful Throne and stood before it, quietly defying the jarl's judgement. The jarl scowled down at Argis who worked diligently to keep his face impassive. "Argis the Bulwark," said the jarl in a bitter voice, "Do you know why you are here?"
"No, my jarl, I do not," he calmly replied.
The jarl sighed deeply again, "You've heard of that adventurer who wishes to be a thane?" Argis nodded and the jarl continued, "Well, the Thalmor have taken an interest in him. They want him to become thane while I am...less than enthused with that idea. It would be a small concession to the Thalmor, however, so I will soon allow this wanderer to buy Vlindrel Hall and become our thane. He will need a housecarl, though..." the jarl trailed off expectantly.
Argis seethed quietly in rage at the Jarl's subtle implication. He clearly hoped to put a failed housecarl with a thane that he did not want, hoping that Argis would let this one would die off like Keldin did. He knew the jarl thought he was an omen of bad luck and was trying to get rid of two birds with one stone. He felt a shred of hope though, and realized that this was his chance to redeem himself. Perhaps if he served this than faithfully – and kept him safe – he could return to what he once was. With that poignant hope fogging his thoughts, he gave the first honest smile he had in a long while and replied, "I would honoured to accept that post, if you were to have me for it."
The jarl gave a wolfish smile and nodded, "Good. I am happy, the Thalmor will be happy, and the city will be honoured with a new jarl. Now, will you move to Vlindrel Hall and await your new thane?"
Argis nodded enthusiastically and the jarl dismissed him with a wave of his hand and tired smile after giving him the key to the Hall.
The housecarl-once-more walked out of Understone Keep and ignored the scowling guards as he quickly made his way to his home. He gathered up a few essentials from his home before heading up to Vlindrel Hall and unlocking the door.
The Hall was sparsely furnished as it had not been inhabited in almost five years. A crude table and two chairs sat in front of a fireplace that Argis loaded with wood from his own home and stirred to life. He investigated the rest of the spacious dwelling to find it similarly unfurnished. He frowned and spread furs out over the two stone beds in the home to try to make them slightly more comfortable before he watched the fire burn down. He slept in the guest room that night, his mind whirling with the thoughts and possibilities of the arrival of the thane. From the way the jarl made it sound, he would arrive the next day.
/\/\/\/\/\
The housecarl awoke the next day to the dimly lit house and lit a candle before proceeding to go about making the house ready for its new master. He stirred the fire and ate his prepared rations as he stared into the fire. Would this thane be kind or cruel? Reckless or clever? He had heard many rumours of different prominent adventurers and he tried to figure out which one the jarl could be promoting. Was it the sneaky Khajiit who had quietly killed half a dozen Forsworn in their sleep? Or the Altmer wizard who had killed just as many in open combat? Perhaps the Nord warrior who had put down several bears who had been troubling the wilds? No, it had to be a Nord of some sort. He softly sighed as he wondered at the involvement of the Thalmor agents, too. He grimaced and was very curious to meet this Nord who had attracted the capricious support of the Altmer.
He sat in a small room off of the main chamber and stared into the small fire he had built. His musings were interrupted by the sound of a key clicking in the lock and the door being opened. He knew that only the new owner of the manse would have access to the other key to open the door. Argis rose quickly, nervous at meeting his new thane and last chance for redemption in Markarth. The light from outside streamed in the open door and clearly illuminated a figure robed all in black with a glass dagger sheathed at his waist. Argis' heart sunk as he realized he was being attached to a wizard. He mentally grumbled that a wizard thane was absurd, as wizards never left their studies long enough to do much of anything. This was Markarth, not Winterhold! What was jarl Igmund thinking?
The new thane's eyes had not adjusted to the darker interior of the Dwemer styled home and reached up to pull back his hood. Argis' heart went from the pit of his stomach to a seething, burning thing in his chest as he saw golden coloured hands pull back the hood to reveal an Altmer with emerald eyes and shoulder length golden hair. Argis noted in passing that the elf was handsome, but he was outraged that the jarl had essentially given such a prominent position to a Thalmor toady.
The elf's eyes must have adjusted quickly to the gloomier interior because he suddenly spotted Argis standing to the side. The Altmer gave a clearly forced smile and asked, "Argis the Bulwark, correct?" Argis nodded and asked quickly, "And you are the new thane?" while hoping that the wizard would say no. Disappointing him, the newcomer nodded briskly and added, "I am indeed." He hesitated a moment, waiting for Argis to ask him his name, but the surly Nord didn't oblige and the Altmer quickly continued, "My name is Ardanthis, or Ard for short."
Argis wordlessly nodded again, still seething at this apparent betrayal of his city by the jarl. Of course the Thalmor had given this elf their support – he was one of them. The part of his brain not fogged with bitter hate prodded him enough to ask sourly, "No surname? I thought Altmer were supposed to be proud of their lineage."
Ard shook his head quietly, "I left that behind with so much else when I recently fled the Summerset Isles after the Thalmor had truly established themselves."
Argis' thoughts were thrown into confusion. Wasn't this one a Thalmor puppet? He mentally sneered at the High Elf's blatant attempt at trickery. Clearly, this was an act to try to engender his support.
His initial confusion must have shown on his face because Ard continued, "I have lived my entire life under their dominion. I have watched them kill people who spoke out against them, and I am glad I am here in Skyrim where their power is not absolute. I fled the Summerset Isles after they killed my master." He sighed and sat down before the fire, talking to it more than Argis, "And now they back me. I see what they're doing. By backing me they hope to make others hate me and leave me isolated. I will either join them or be easily picked off." He stirred slightly and a forceful edge entered his voice as he quietly spat, "Well it won't work. I will stop them here if nowhere else."
Argis had heard of such refugees from the Thalmor regime, but he had always been sceptical of the truth of their claims. He carefully eyed his new thane, uncertain of how to feel. Settling into a business-like demeanour, he asked, "Do you have any orders from the jarl? Or any of your own, my thane?" He choked out those last words.
The Altmer looked up from the fire to smile at Argis for a moment before looking back to the fire and responding, "We've already got our first bounty. There's a small Forworn camp of about ten that's gotten greedy and plagues the trade routes. One shipment of silver has already gone missing and the jarl is determined not to see another go. He's expecting us two to go in and wipe them out as we are both experienced. I trust this agrees with you."
"Yes, my thane," acquiesced the housecarl. Even if he might be a Thalmor puppet, he still could be useful to the city and to Argis.
The jarl's mission for them was dangerous though. Ten against two, even a highly skilled two, was long odds. Argis looked over the distracted elf's form as he wondered if this one was any good in combat. He had seen wizards who could hurl fire and lightning, but there was no guarantee this one would be as useful. He dolefully retired to his chambers to begin preparing for tomorrow and what could be his death.