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"I hereby name you Thane of Markarth. I will assign you a Hucarl to ease your burdens. Take this from my peronal armoury as a sign of my thanks." A servant of the Jarl handed her a dwarven axe that shimmered with a spell. She bowed and her claws klinked softly as her hands closed around the axe.
"I thank you, my Lord. I am honoured to serve you." The Jarl smiled and waved his hand to signal that she was free to go. Shezerade bowed once more and turned to leave. The stone of the floor that had bowed to the hands of the Dwemer so long ago was cold beneath her fett. She adapted her step to match that of a guard patrolling up and down the hall and the soft noises made by her armour vanished. She pushed open the heavy metal doors and could feel the blood of the monster boil up inside her veins as it protested the sunlight. But she smiled at the risen sun that made her white furr glow and dipped the towers of Markarth in gold. She loved Markarth, loved the ancient architecture, the corners and bridges, the many levels and the immortality of it all.
She turned her steps to the left to Vlindrel Hall and passed beneath the roaring Waterfall that thundered down from Understone Keep, then she froze. She was Thane now, at home her huscarl was waiting for her. Her heart froze and she whirled around to head for the temple. Sure, Dibella wasn't really the entinty for a sellsword to turn to, but she was the godess of women and would maybe have an ear for her fears. The sounds of her footsteps were suffocated by the noise of the market beneath as she climbed the stairs. She opened another pair of heavy metal doors and Shezerade let out a sigh as the sun could no longer burn her fur. When she was in a good mood she could enjoy the heat and let it remind her of the singing sun of her home, but usually that just brought the wrong memories.
She allowed her eyes a few moments to get used to the dark light, then she walked past the statues of a beautiful woman that held a lily to her head. She sat on one of the chairs beneath one of the statues. Her eyes got caught on the marvellous body of the woman and her thoughts wandered. She was definitly not happy having a Huscarl that would offer his life to protect hers, but refusing would be an unforgivable insult to the Jarl and she liked Markarth a bit too much to move already. She didn't want to let a stranger into her house, have him dig around in her stuff, finding memories, the wrong ones, the ones that were too dangerous for anyone to find. But she also didn't like the thought of dragging a wannabe warrior along and have him babble her crazy with his talk of honour and dying for glory. She would have to park him in some tavern for every second contract anyway, otherwise she would visit the Cidna Mines on much less volountary terms than last time.
"Well, well, well, if that isn't our little kitty. What brings you to our temple on a day as pretty as this one?" Orla smiled as she walked up to her and Shezerade jumped to bow in time to avoid Orlas hug. "Come, sit. Something tells me you are overthinking something."
"Dibella blessed you with sight. True, Shezerade is trubled." Orla lead her to a stonbench that had been chisseled out of the mountain and sank onto the stone with the elegance of one of the statues. Shezerade sat besider her, painfully aware of her armor and her own clumsy movements.
"So tell me, what troubles the new Thane of Markarth?" Shezerade sighed. It was eerie how well the fire of news traveled on the stones of the city.
"Exactly that. Shezerade does not mind serving the Nord that rules her city, but..."
"Your city," Orla interrupted with a sceptically raised eyebrow.
"Shezerade is as much part of Markarth as the stone is part of her. It is what her heart longs for when the sky cries of the little ghost fall. Shezerade belongs to Markarth, so the immortal city belongs to her." Orla smiled.
"It is good to hear you have found a home."
"Skyrim is the Khajiit's home. But Markarth and Vlindrell Hall are the paws of the mother she flees to when she is afraid."
"You are a Khajiit at heart, I am happy to see. But tell me, what do you fear?" Shezerade fought her racing hert and tried to convince herself that she had sopken truthfully. That all Skyrim was her home, that she could go wherever if she did not want to return to the home that Orla had called her home.
"The Nord waiting in my halls."
"You fear your huscarl?" Orla looked at her as if even the thought was incomprehensible.
"He will expect Shezerade to be the hero for whose deeds the Jarl has deemed her worthy of the honour of Thane."
"And are you not that hero?"
"Not always, no."
"And you fear what he will think if he sees that you are just another kitty? He is to serve you, not judge you."
"But I do not want to be served! If the Nord is to keep Shezerade company, he is not to serve." Again Orla smiled. She smiled a lot and Shezerade liked her all the more for it. It made her bautiful and tha Khajiit appreaciated beauty.
"You wish for him to be your friend, but you fear that he is too much of a Nord to look you in the eye." Shezerade said nothing, Orla needed no confirmation that she was right. "Well, you cannot hide from your house forever. Take him outside. Have him accompany you with something harmless, Nord men are easy to scare. A little bird told me Legate Rikke wished to speak with you, why don't you take up on that." Shezarde groaned and sank even deeper into the bench of stone. She had hoped to keep out of the civil war that tore her home apart. But the General of the Legion had commanded her to him and had forewarded her to Legate Rikke.
"You are right. Shezerade thanks for your prescious time, Orla. I pray to see you soon." Orla smiled another one of her beautiful smiles and brought her to the door.
"Be careful out there kitten. I would miss you purr if something were to happen to you." Shezerade nodded and a soft rumble escaped her throat.
"May Dibella light your path."
"And yours." With another bow Shezerade shoved the heavy door open and her feet met the warm stone of Markarth.