Fuck.
Fuck, his head hurt so much.
His mouth was so fucking dry. And every inch of his body ached with strain. Especially his arm. One of his eyes hurt too. And the whole cheek under it. When he touched it softly with the tips of his fingers, he could feel it sting so much. Like after a punch.
He didn't know where he was. He knew that he was on the ground. Stone, cold, hard ground. It was so uncomfortable. But he had no idea about any details.
Did they really get so drunk last night? That was so fucking dumb. So fucking reckless. He only had hazy memories. He barely remembered anything at all. How the fuck did they get so drunk so fast? That wasn't like him. And not like Aeyrin either, even though she had a lower threshold than him.
Where was she, by the way? It had him worry when he couldn't feel her pressing up against him, wherever he was.
And what did they do last night? He remembered being outside. Were they really outside?
Now he was inside though. It was too warm. Though he did hear water sloshing somewhere near. What the fuck was that?
He really didn't want to open his eyes.
"Get. Up!"
A voice rang around wherever he was. At first, he got hopeful that it was Aeyrin – it was definitely a female voice. But it wasn't hers. Who was that? Why did she sound so fucking angry?
"Get up, now!"
Someone kicked him in his flank and he instinctively let out a groan. Fuck, what was going on?
He should really open his eyes already, as much as he hated that notion just then.
With another groan, he finally opened them. He couldn't see anything for a while, just bright light. But when his eyes adjusted, the first thing he noticed was a giant woman towering above him.
No… not a giant woman. A statue. A statue of Dibella.
"Finally!" the woman spoke again.
Was… the statue talking to him? What? No… he wasn't some fucking 'Listener' of Dibella was he? He had enough of that shit.
But that was ridiculous. What the fuck are you thinking, idiot?
He finally started to scan the surroundings. It didn't take him long to recognize the place. The temple of Dibella. In… Markarth.
He was in Markarth?! How the fuck did he get in here? And why the fuck would he be in Markarth?! That was dangerous! Not just with the Silver-Bloods here, but possibly the Brotherhood too! What the fuck was he doing here?
He noticed the source of the voice promptly. A young priestess, clad in those opulent 'robes' of theirs and all those jewels glittering on her in the light of the braziers. It was one he didn't recognize from before though.
"Get on your feet already, drunkard!" she hissed at him angrily.
Fuck. Fine! I'm trying!
He shuffled in spot before he got in a good position to get up with only the help of his one hand. As he did, he heard a strange ringing noise, as if something clattered onto the ground. He looked down in confusion and then he noticed it. Countless colorful gems fell out of his pockets. And he could feel more stuffed in there.
"Return those. All of them," the priestess scowled at him threateningly.
"Y-yeah… sure…" he mumbled. Did he try to rob the temple? That was stupid. Especially stupid since he fell asleep in there, apparently. What the fuck had possessed him to do that?
He started to pull out those gems out of his pockets, still utterly confused. Maybe the priestess would tell him something. She was clearly pissed, but she surely had more answers than him.
"What… what happened? How did I get here?" He asked uncertainly as he poured the gems into the priestess's hands.
"How should I know?" She scoffed. "You barged in, pushed Senna away, and you started thrashing the place," she gestured around. Only now Bishop noticed the various jewels, statuettes, flowers and small bottles scattered around the temple. What the fuck was he doing? "You tried to steal our gems and then you passed out drunk."
"Fuck… I… I'm sorry I…" he stammered. He didn't understand why he did this.
"I don't care! Just get out!" the priestess hissed again.
It was… a good idea, probably. But he still had no idea how he got there. Where was Aeyrin? And he didn't even have his pack. He was just in his clothes and with the sling on his arm. There was some stuff on his belt though. Some cloth. What was that? And he felt something else than gems in his pockets. He needed to…
"Out!" the priestess yelled.
"Wait… please… where's my stuff? And… was there a girl with me? And elf, blond and…"
"No. You had no stuff and you were alone," the priestess scowled. "Now get out already! And be glad I didn't notify the guard."
Yeah… he was glad for that. Fuck, he could have ended up in the mine.
He needed to get out and find out what happened.
Maybe Jack had a point. When he was blabbering about all that shit – how his rum made him wake up somewhere weird with people yelling. It all seemed very much like his stories.
Shit. Maybe it really was cursed.
…
He walked down the streets, trying to pretend that he wasn't there. He really hoped nobody noticed his presence.
He couldn't help but keep studying the things he found on his belt and in his pockets. He had his usual lockpicks and knife, but besides that, he had a hood and a mask he had never seen before. And then there was that note.
A small note with one word written there in his own handwriting:
.
Red
.
What the fuck did that mean?
He really needed some answers. And he needed to find Aeyrin. Where did she end up? Hopefully she didn't do something equally stupid to end up in the mine.
He still had his rings, fortunately. And he kept checking the new soul gem one from Maro to see if Aeyrin was in trouble. But it was still shining as it always was. That was a bit comforting. She would definitely let him know that way if something really bad went down.
There was the inn. She was probably in there, sleeping it off. Maybe they got to Markarth for some daft reason and he decided to go to the temple when she was asleep. He didn't have any better ideas about what could have happened anyway.
With a defeated sigh, he weaved his way through the bustling morning marketplace and entered the Silver-Blood Inn.
There were several people inside, but no one he knew. Not Aeyrin in any case. He needed to ask if they had a room there. Hopefully she was just asleep in it.
But before he could approach the bar, a young woman stepped towards him instead. Nord, with curly blond hair and an eager smile on her lips. She looked like a barmaid with the apron and the notepad tucked behind it.
"Hi. You're back," she smiled at him.
Oh. He was here before. Good. That was good.
"Hi… yeah. Where's my room?" he asked outright. He really hoped that Aeyrin was there.
"Your room?" the girl looked at him in confusion. "You mean where did I put your armor? It's here, come," she ushered him towards one of the side corridors.
'His armor'? He gave her his armor? Why? What?
"My armor? What are you doing with my armor?" Bishop scowled at her, but he followed along nonetheless as she led him to one of the rooms at the end of the hallway.
"You told me to keep an eye on it, remember? You said you shouldn't look too conspicuous so you just went in your clothes," she chuckled.
What?
They were in that room promptly and he noticed his armor, laid out on the bed. That was all though. No pack, no Aeyrin. What the fuck?
"Where did I go without my armor?" Bishop scowled.
"To the temple, remember?" the girl smiled at him again, but when she was only met with more confusion, she let out a light chuckle. "I… I guess you were pretty drunk. You probably don't remember."
"Not a thing," he scoffed. He still didn't understand anything. "Was I alone?"
"Yeah, you came in alone. Got a drink and then we got to talking. I'm Hroki, by the way, in case you forgot," she smirked.
"Yeah… sorry." That name didn't even ring any bells.
"It's alright. You were really drunk," she chuckled. "So, you told me this very sweet story. You were talking about how you had this perfect girl, waiting for you in some cottage near Riften."
What? Aeyrin was at the cottage? What the fuck? Did he actually show it to her in his drunken state?
Wait… Riften? How the fuck would they get to Riften in one night? That was impossible.
It… it was just one night, right? It was somewhat possible to get to Markarth in that span of time, but not Riften. Not by a long shot. No… he must have been babbling some insanities. That wasn't right.
"You told me that you had this perfect ring for her, but that someone took it from you and that you needed a replacement. I told you that they have the prettiest jewels at the temple and then you started planning a heist," Hroki chuckled.
What the…
The ring!
Bishop instantly panicked. What the fuck did he do with the ring?! It was just talk, right? It wasn't true.
He quickly grabbed the armor from the bed and started to rummage in the inside pocket. The ring had to be there. It had to. He would never take it out, would he?
It… it wasn't there.
FUCK!
Fuck! What the fuck did he do? He fucked up everything. None of this made any sense.
"Wait. Wait. You said some 'took the ring from me. Who?" He questioned Hroki promptly. Her smile instantly fell, replaced by concern when she saw his panicked expression.
"I… I'm not sure. You just… you just said 'those bastards in Riverwood. I'm sorry. I don't know anything more," she sighed. "But surely, you can get another ring. There's a very talented jeweler here. His name is Endon."
He couldn't get another ring! He didn't even have any money on him. And that ring was perfect! What the fuck was this about: 'bastards in Riverwood'? Was he in Riverwood? How did he get there in one fucking night?! And why would he go to Riverwood?! It was in Whiterun Hold. That was even more fucking dangerous than being in Markarth.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Yeah… thanks… I guess," he sighed. Hroki didn't seem to have any more information for him and she would just keep suggesting more and more shit he didn't want to do. No. He had to get his ring back.
He had nothing. No weapon, aside from his knife, arm in a sling, and no food and no money.
With that, somehow, he had to get to Riverwood.
…
The journey was grueling.
He was so fucking tired. So fucking hungry. So fucking hungover. At least he could drink from the springs and streams on the way, but that was about it.
He had no money – he didn't even have one of those stolen gems tucked away somewhere in his boot – his amateur drunken ass apparently didn't think of that. Now he was completely septimless. He couldn't afford a carriage. He couldn't afford rations. He couldn't afford anything. He had no ring, he had no idea where Aeyrin was and it would take the entire fucking day to march to Riverwood.
Not only that, but it was Riverwood. He couldn't just… march into town. He had to do that covertly, while still investigating the previous night's activities.
The road was especially arduous. It was so fucking boring suddenly when he was all alone. He used to not mind it, he used to like the quiet, but now he really missed having Aeyrin by his side. Even if they weren't talking, just having her there was better.
And he didn't even have Karnwyr with him. Fuck, how he missed him. Not just for finding Aeyrin. He missed having him by his side too. He missed him nuzzling to them at night by the campfire, he missed hunting with him.
Fuck, he was getting morose. Walking through the Reach and Falkreath with a hangover and alone apparently wasn't really elevating his mood. And he kept checking the soul gem ring to see if Aeyrin was alright. He wasn't sure why the ring was so comforting. Technically, if someone like… killed her in her sleep, he would never know.
Don't fucking think about that, dumbass.
He fucking hated his drunk self just then. He usually didn't do anything this stupid, but last night took the fucking cake. He still couldn't believe that he lost the ring. And he still couldn't believe that he told Aeyrin about the cottage. But… then again, at least if she was there, waiting for him, she was safe. He hoped.
He passed Falkreath without a stop – what would he stop for anyway without money? To steal some bread?
Actually… maybe he should have. He was starving. He could have caught a rabbit, probably, only with his knife. But he didn't want to stop in order to cook it anyway. He would possibly figure something out in Riverwood. Now he just needed to figure out how to go about it. He was almost there.
Hmm… maybe that was what the cowl and the mask was for. He must have had those on him for a reason. And if he really was in Riverwood last night… or… whatever night – he didn't want to think about the timeframe here. It was disturbing. The important thing was the mask and the cowl now. He must have been wearing those when he was in Riverwood. He should do that again. It would hide him effectively. The only problem was that he would look fucking suspicious. Some guard might ask him to remove the mask and they might recognize him then. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he could just quickly pass through, but he needed to investigate. He needed to talk to people.
He probably didn't have any choice anyway. He needed the ring back. He wasn't going back to Aeyrin without it. Because if he did, then he couldn't get it back with her around and still keep it a surprise. If it even was a surprise anymore. Who knew what he blabbed about in his drunken state? Maybe he had already proposed. Maybe he proposed here, where they met for the very first time, and someone snatched that ring from him in the process.
Ah, fuck, please don't let that be true. He really didn't want to have one of the most important moments for him and Aeyrin to be forgotten in a haze of alcohol.
With a sigh escaping his lips, Bishop pulled on the black cowl and he secured the equally black mask over his mouth and nose. At least it didn't look that weird when he was wearing his armor. It would be so fucking ridiculous if he had nothing but his clothes, arm in a sling, and a fucking cowl like some assassin.
Don't think about assassins, dipshit.
He only had to walk a short distance after that before Riverwood came to view. The sun was already almost all the way down, but hopefully he would not look like a burglar right away to everyone. Maybe he shouldn't take the main gate with the guards there and shit.
Fuck. Fine.
He walked into the thicket by the road instead, before he could be seen from a distance. He would just have to… scale the wall. With… one arm.
Fuck, he needed to wade through the river instead. But… walking in town, half-wet, it would just be obvious that he tried to avoid the guards.
Shit. Fine. Gate it is. Act like nothing's wrong.
He stepped back onto the road and headed towards the Riverwood gates. Head held high. And if they tried to stop him, he would just run.
The guards spotted him promptly, but neither of them made a move. They didn't even exchange a look or anything. Was that good or bad? Bishop still had no idea what he had done in the town last night.
Surprisingly enough, he just… passed through the gate. The guards didn't react at all.
Phew. That was… a fucking relief. He really thought they would stop him. This, at least, gave him some time to find out what happened. He shouldn't really risk going inside the inn. The barkeep might recognize him, despite the mask. He may have been Delphine's ally, or maybe he wasn't. And either way, that didn't really guarantee shit for Bishop. He should just… look around. Maybe something would jog his memory.
Though as he scanned the streets of Riverwood, he really didn't remember being here, not for ages. And looking around too much may look suspicious too. People were already throwing him looks. Like this one Bosmer. He kept watching Bishop. It was unsettling.
"Do I know you?" Bishop growled angrily, loud enough so that the eavesdropping elf would hear. Hopefully that would chase the man off.
"Oh… you're talking… to me?" the man stammered. "No. Sorry, I just… remember you from last time you were here..." he said it meaningfully, as if Bishop would remember. He didn't. But at least he found someone who did.
"Remember what? Cause I don't," Bishop scoffed. Hopefully there would be some answers from this man.
"Oh… yes… I guess you were drunk. So were the others. You might want to talk to them, though they might suffer from the same state as you," the elf chuckled nervously. "You just… fought them. Here, on the streets. Quite publicly."
That explained the aching eye. Bishop never really took the time to check himself out in anything reflective yet – he wasn't sure how old the bruise on his face was or about any other injuries. Everything hurt anyway.
Those were probably the ones who took the ring, the people he fought with. He had to get it back. Even if it meant… apologizing. Ugh.
"Who's 'they'?" Bishop asked impatiently. He didn't even think to ask when this happened just now. Maybe he didn't even want to know. Not really. And anyway, he was too focused on finding the ring. Then he could go see Aeyrin. Who was still… yeah, she was fine. The ring was still shining.
"Those two," the elf pointed to two burly men hanging around the inn.
Bishop recognized them. Though not from last night. He actually remembered them from around the time he met Aeyrin. He had been just hanging around Riverwood, hoping to see someone actually equipped for battle to help him rescue Karnwyr. But there were only soldiers around, and he wasn't going to ask them.
During his unsettlingly long wait, he watched many times as those two drunken louts by the inn called out to every passing girl. Sometimes men too, when those idiots were drunk enough not to be able to tell.
That was… really all he knew about them. He was surprised he even remembered them, but then again, they kind of contributed to how he met Aeyrin. They gave him a decent reason to talk to her when his idiot past self couldn't just ask her for help outright. That was unthinkable. And besides, those two numbskulls were still there, just like back then. Drinking and watching people walk by.
Why did he even interact with them last night?
"That's all you know?" he asked the elf. It was smart to get more information if he could.
"I only saw from afar. Most people just watched. I don't know what it was about," the man shrugged.
"The guards didn't do anything?" Bishop scowled. It would likely be the perfect time to demand that the 'masked man' takes off his mask.
"With three Nords brawling outside the tavern?" the Bosmer scoffed. "No? Isn't that basically how you people communicate?"
Hmpf. Possibly he should have gotten offended by that, but the fact that brawls, even with suspiciously masked strangers, were such a common occurrence really played into his cards. It was no wonder that the guards barely spared him a glance at the gates – maybe they knew who he seemingly was. No one but a regular Nord, brawling other idiots in drunken stupor.
Well… it was a warranted label last night. Or whenever that was. He really didn't want to know. It would just get him to panic even more about being away from Aeyrin for Gods-knew-how long.
"Thanks," Bishop finally nodded at the elf. It was time to go talk to those two louts.
"Sure… why's your face always covered?" the Bosmer took the opportunity to pry while he had the chance before Bishop could leave.
Dammit. Not this question.
"It's… deformed. You don't wanna see," Bishop grumbled. It was the first thing to pop into his head. He hoped that it wouldn't get the elf even more curious.
"Oh…" the man only nodded. "Maybe don't brawl to make it worse then?" he smirked after a second.
Well… it really wasn't bad advice, deformed face or not. Stupid fucking drunk Bishop.
He finally marched towards the two men by the inn. The closer he got, the more he could see slightly old signs of brawl on them – a black eye here, a swollen jaw there. Bishop must have looked similar. Did he… fight them with just one arm? Two of them? He wondered if he won. Maybe them stealing the ring was incentive enough for him to really knock their teeth out.
But the second they noticed Bishop approach, the instantly put their mugs down on a nearby stone wall and clenched their fists.
Fuck. Bad reception. He should have expected that.
He quickly raised his hale arm in a calming gesture. He was certainly not in any condition to be fighting right now.
"Come back for more, fucker? Still didn't have enough?" one of the men snarled at him angrily.
Alright. It sounded like Bishop didn't win that fight. Figures…
"Shit. Calm down. I'm not here to fight," he sighed. He really hoped that they weren't drunk enough already to escalate the situation. But they did seem pretty lucid. Hopefully they would stay somewhat calm. He needed information, not another punch. "I… I don't even remember why we fought. What happened?"
"What? You just attack people and don't remember why?" the other man scoffed at him. Apparently he did just that. "You started pushing us and shoving us all of the sudden."
"For… no reason?" Bishop narrowed his eyes at the man. He sincerely doubted that.
"Well you kept trying to yell that it's for 'harassing yer girl' or some shit. But we don't 'harass' people," the first man scowled at Bishop accusingly.
"Yeah," the second one nodded. "Lasses like it, you know. They need some apre… 'preciation sometimes."
Don't punch him. Again.
"So…" Bishop gritted his teeth. This really wasn't the time to escalate things. "I was with a girl?"
"Nah, that was the weird part," the first man shook his head. "Who you think we even 'harassed' if you don't have a girl here?"
Dammit.
Did he really remember those two idiots cat-calling Aeyrin the day they met, a year and a half ago? And he decided to punish them for it? That was… he didn't really regret that. But it did cause more harm than satisfaction, unfortunately.
Fine. The ring. Focus on the ring.
"You took something from me," Bishop tried to look somewhat threatening when he said it, but hopefully not enough to rile them up too much.
"Yea. To teach ya a lesson, fucker," the second man snarled at him again. "I punched yer chest, you got all panicked that I broke something and you pulled out that trinket to check on it. So we took it. Ya don't shove and punch people out of the blue, asshole."
It wasn't out of the blue, shithead. Maybe it was over a year late, but still fucking deserved.
Fuck, he wanted to punch him again.
"You just laughed at us that you'll get it again and that we can't keep yer trinket from you. Guess yer here to grovel for it now, huh?" the man laughed at him maliciously.
"Fine. Lesson learned," the angry tone was really hard to hide as Bishop spoke behind gritted teeth. "Can I have it back?"
"We don't have it," the first man scoffed. "It's gone. That'll teach ya."
Fuck!
They got rid of it? Sold it, more like. Nobody would just toss a ring, not if they could sell it. Bishop studied their smug fucking faces for a while, trying to gauge if they were just lying. But it was doubtful. Why wouldn't they sell it? Likely for booze money. They had no use of it otherwise, right?
"What did you do with it?" Bishop sighed. It would be easier if they told him. But he wasn't really holding out hope.
"Yeah, like we're telling you," the second man shook his head at him. "Piss off already. Unless you want another beatin'."
Well… that was unhelpful. But he found out something. And he was convinced that they sold the ring. There weren't exactly many places around to see shit either. His next destination was clear – the Riverwood Trader.
It was just very unfortunate that he had no money at all. Maybe a sob story would work?
Fuck. In the old days, he would just brandish his knife at the man. He never liked doing shit like that, seeing the fear in defenseless people's eyes. It was different from seeing the same on an aggressive enemy. But in either case… it did get results.
But hopefully he wouldn't have to resort to that now. It was getting late. He had to hurry to the shop right away and he really shouldn't linger in Riverwood regardless.
Without further ado, he entered the Riverwood Trader, intent on getting the ring back, no matter what.
But the second he stepped across the threshold, an angry voice startled him.
"You again! Out!"
Ah, shit.
What the fuck did he do here? Why couldn't he just once not do anything to piss people off?
"Wait, please, I…"
"No! You already got what you wanted, what you threatened me for!" the trader yelled at him angrily. Well… apparently, that knife thing still worked well. "You know where your ring is, now go!"
What? No! He didn't know. He had no idea. Fuck that drunken asshole he had been last night. That shithead was making his life so fucking difficult.
"No, I…"
"Out! Before I call the guards!"
Alright. That was an effective threat. Bishop couldn't let himself interact with the guards. It was too risky.
Fuck!
He had no choice. Bishop left the store quickly and shut the door behind him.
What now?
That was it. The end of his lead. He didn't know what else to do. Unless he somehow miraculously remembered the information that he had apparently already gotten, but he didn't remember anything else about his misadventures throughout this search.
Fuck. Would he have to go to Aeyrin without the ring, tell her about it so that they could get it back? Or… maybe he could get another one some time. Though that one was already perfect. He didn't want to do that.
Fuck. What now?
He let out a frustrated groan as he dragged the palm of his hand over his masked face.
Maybe he could try to rummage around the shop after closing time. Maybe the ring was still there? But… the trader really made it sound like the ring was gone already. Would someone else know this information? Who? Maybe there was someone else at the shop back then. That guy's wife or sister or whatever was hanging around often, right? Maybe she overheard last night's exchange.
Though if she had, she would have probably called the guards. Which she obviously didn't.
But she could still know where the ring ended up. It was definitely Bishop's best bet.
But now, it was getting late. And he couldn't stay here overnight, not just because he had no money to do that, but also because it was too risky. As much as he hated going to sleep right now with things unresolved, there wasn't much else to do. He couldn't go back to that shop now and he couldn't go find Aeyrin either, especially if she was all the way in the Rift.
No. He should just give up for today. Maybe his head would be clearer in the morning – after he found some place to lay his sorry ass down with no food, no bedroll and no anything, really. It wasn't exactly new. He and Jules used to do that a lot in the Falkreath forests, back when they got to Skyrim. That was one thing he never really wanted to relive.
With a defeated sigh, he walked away from the store and towards the inn again. He should probably take the southern exit. Skybound pass was that way. It was a reasonably safe place to stay the night. Annoyingly alone. At least the soul gem ring was still shining.
"Oh. Hi. You're back."
A voice suddenly tore him from his ruminations. He turned around to see a young woman he had never seen before. She was just coming out of the Sleeping Giant. Her appearance really didn't ring any bells. She was a Nord girl with honey-colored hair and very bright red lipstick that kind of drew attention. Bishop felt like he would have remembered that if he had seen it before, but he didn't recall anything.
"I didn't think I'd see you again," the woman pouted. The tone of her voice made him a bit uncomfortable. Clearly the habits of talking to young girls in taverns died hard. This was the second one after his drunken night. He just hoped that talking was all he did. This one looked a little too friendly as she stepped very close to him. Too close for comfort. He had to take a step back from her right away.
"Still playing the mystery man, huh?" she giggled at him as she poked into the mask covering his face. "Honestly, I thought it was a tactic at first. Or… hoped," she winked. "I didn't expect you to disappear on me like that."
'Tactic'? What the fuck was he doing that night?
"Sorry… who are you?" Bishop sighed. The girl's expression was quite surprised, but it didn't matter. It would definitely quench any ideas she was getting, right?
"Oh… ah… is that supposed to be another tactic… uhm… never mind. Talia. We… talked the other night. Remember? I thought you might have been… interested in something more," she stepped closer again with a slight smile decorating her face. A year ago, that wouldn't have even been a matter of hesitating. Well… it wasn't now either. The answer was just the opposite.
"Sorry. No… I was just… too drunk…" he shook his head. "I don't really remember… anything."
"Yeah, I knew you were drunk. Still… you were pretty lucid for a drunk," she sighed dejectedly. "Oh well… I guess I didn't make an impression. You're still intent on going to that grove you talked about?"
What?
"'Grove'? What grove?" Bishop raised his brow at her. That was new.
"Some… watchy…witchy grove? I don't know. You said it was north of Riften," she shrugged. "You said someone was waiting for you there and you wanted to get there. But you had to find something first."
Huh. So… Aeyrin was waiting for him north of Riften – in what he had assumed to be the cottage. And he wanted to see her, but first he needed to 'find something'. The ring. But what was this… witchy grove? He didn't know the place. It was clearly not the cottage. Maybe it was a cottage.
This girl knew surprising information. Maybe she knew more.
"So… this thing I needed to find, you know what it was?" Bishop pried. The girl seemed rather annoyed that he was asking her so many questions instead of apparently doing other stuff with her, but she did look at least a little sympathetic to his predicament.
With a sigh, she shook her head. "No. Sorry. I have no idea. You never said." She made an uncertain expression before she looked at him again. "So… this person waiting for you is…"
"Yeah. Sorry. I… didn't mean to lead you on, if I did," Bishop sighed again. This was just fucking uncomfortable. He was just apparently intent on doing stupid shit that night, no matter what.
"It's fine. I'll live," she smirked back. "Just… you know, the whole, all in black, face hidden, kind of intriguing."
"That… can be a dangerous fascination," Bishop let out an uncomfortable chuckle. If this girl saw an actual assassin, she might make the biggest mistake of the inevitably short rest of her life. Then again, he did sleep with an assassin and lived to tell the tale.
"Or a disappointing one, apparently," she teased.
"Apparently," he smirked. "So… just, one more thing. You know where I was going to be looking for this… thing?" That would help him so fucking much.
"No… I don't know that either, sorry," she shrugged. "We didn't talk about all that much. Well… you didn't talk much at all, which was kind of contributing to the whole… mysterious thing," she scoffed at herself. "Mostly I talked. But… you did complain that you would probably forget where you were supposed to go."
"Great," Bishop gave her a deadpan look. His drunk self was so fucking helpful with that self-aware shit. What good did that do now?
"Well… I told you that I get forgetful sometimes. I make jewelry and I have to get a lot of orders down and shopping lists for supplies and… well, anyway, I told you I always carry a little notepad and you asked for a paper from it. I… I don't know what you wrote down, but…"
"Oh!" Bishop had almost forgotten about that note. He instantly reached into one of the pouches on his belt where he had stashed it last and he took out the small note.
.
Red
.
Red. What could that be? What kind of an idiot only writes the word 'red'. What the fuck was wrong with his drunk self? He wanted to punch the shit out of that fucking asshole. Fuck!
Alright, calm down.
Red. Some place where there's a lot of… red? Like… hmm… the Rift? It was kind of a big place to cover. And it wasn't really red either – more golden and orange with the aspen trees everywhere. Or… Solitude? Like… Imperial red?
Talia was giving him a curious look and he barely realized that he was just staring into space blankly. It was so fucking infuriating. He couldn't help the frustrated tone in his voice as he huffed.
"It just says 'red'. What the fuck?"
"'Red'? Hmm… maybe it's a name?" the girl pondered.
Huh. That was possible. There was Red Road. It led from Dawnstar, south past the Hall of the Vigilant. But again – a really big fucking area to cover. There was also Redwater. It was a small region in the Rift. He knew some places in that area. There was that one fort that he and Aeyrin had helped liberate from bandits during their first time in the Rift. Then there was some Dunmeri farm that he sometimes sold meats to, back in the day. And then there was an old warehouse – the one where they had left Aeyrin's wretch of a father for dead.
Those were the only familiar places he could think of. But it was at least more likely than that road near Dawnstar.
"Redwater…" he mumbled mostly to himself. The note was small, but not that fucking small that it couldn't fit the whole fucking word! Asshole drunk!
"Oh. I meant more like a person's name," Talia gave him a small smile. "But this works too, I guess."
A person's name? Who would be named…
Oh no.
Fuck. No. No, no, no, no. Fuck. Shit.
Please, for fuck's sake, don't let this be happening. Not her. Anyone but her.
This was a nightmare.
…
Alright. This was it.
He had no choice.
There was only one person that Bishop himself would call 'red'. It was the last fucking person he ever wanted to see. It was the one person he promised that he would never see again, if only for her sake.
Ysolda.
It made sense. It wasn't just the nickname that he had called her by back when they used to fuck occasionally. She was a trader and she definitely did plenty of business with the Riverwood guy. She had even sent Bishop to him when she helped him get the cure for Aeyrin for her sickness. Back then, Bishop promised her that if she did him this one favor, she would never have to see him or hear from him ever again.
He ruined that woman's life.
And now, he had no choice. He had to use the cover of the coming night, sneak into Whiterun unseen, which was a fucking ordeal, given the long ladder in the smuggler route and his incapacitated arm, and then he had to break into Ysolda's house and find the ring. And steal it.
That was really the only option. He couldn't let Ysolda see him. If anyone would rat him out to the guards, it was her. She would definitely want him to get the axe.
But this was all going to be worth it. For that ring. For Aeyrin. For their future together.
He really hoped to get some sleep, but he couldn't now. He couldn't go to Whiterun when it was light out and the sooner he got this over with, the better. He just hoped that his growling stomach wouldn't give him away. Fuck, he was starving. Maybe he could sneak into Breezehome to get something to eat? He didn't want to alert Lydia and Saadia though. That would just cost him more time. He had to leave this very night as well and then make his way to that… witchy place. After some rest well away from Whiterun Hold.
Getting through the smuggler route was a struggle with that fucking ladder there, but he managed in the end. It was late at night and the streets of Whiterun were mostly abandoned. Especially the side alleys. He could easily get to Ysolda's house. He knew where it was after all.
At least he had his lockpicks. That would make things easier.
It took him quite a while before he was absolutely sure that no one was around to see him by Ysolda's door. Annoyingly enough, there was a lantern near it, illuminating the whole area. He had to watch the nearby houses too for any lurkers in the windows.
But eventually, he was sure. He dropped to his knee promptly and pulled out his lockpicks.
Alright. This would be a challenge.
Picking a lock one-handed was definitely not ideal. He had to slide in the picks first and then he had to maneuver with his fingers a lot, using his ring and little finger to move the tension wrench while the rest of them moved the pick itself. It took fucking forever. And he always had to look over his shoulder.
But he did it. Finally the lock clicked and the door opened slightly. It was dark inside, but that was a good sign. Hopefully Ysolda was asleep already. It was pretty damn late.
He slipped inside and tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. It was quite a disadvantage that he had never seen the inside of this house before. He only saw the one Ysolda used to live in in Falkreath before… before he ruined that for her.
Alright. Stop thinking about this shit. Time to find the ring and get the fuck out of red's life again.
He could kinda see. A little. He just needed to think. Where would she keep her goods? The entire bottom floor was just a tiny entry hall with a dining table at the back, and an adjacent kitchen. Ysolda's bedroom must have been on the second floor. There were stairs in the kitchen. He really hoped that she would leave her business stuff in the hall. The house was small and she probably needed the upstairs for her personal shit – like bedroom, wardrobes and bathing room. That made sense.
He was pretty sure there were crates in the corner of the room and there were plenty of cupboards and drawers around too. Searching for a tiny ring in all this would be an ordeal, but he hoped it would be somewhere with more jewelry.
Opening those crates could prove noisy and difficult. He should really start with the cupboards and drawers.
Bishop began with the one closest to him. He didn't really see that well in the dark, but he rummaged around with his hale hand and began pulling stuff out. It was full of some papers and there were also some books. He still had to make sure that there wasn't jewelry in the corner of the drawer or something though, so he pulled out as much stuff as he could to really scour the thing. He would put everything back later.
His search continued for a while. There were clothes in one cupboard, with a lot of hats there too. Then there was a drawer full of some small packets of food – likely something durable like nuts or dried fruits. There was also a cupboard full of potions and fragrances. There were so fucking many things in that small room. Why did Ysolda have to be a fucking merchant of all things? He even had to steal a block of cheese from her kitchen in order not to drop dead from that fucking hunger. He didn't want to steal from her, aside from the ring, but he couldn't stand it anymore.
It felt like he had been there for at least an hour. Trying not to make a noise as he kept placing things down on the ground slowly with his one good hand. He probably should have been putting them back right after – now he couldn't remember where everything went, but he was too preoccupied looking for that ring.
Why hasn't he found it yet?!
Alright. The crates. That was the last place to look. If it wasn't there, it would have to be upstairs. He really fucking hoped that it wasn't upstairs. He couldn't have Ysolda find him here.
He had to use his knife to pry open the lid of the first crate. And he had to do that really slowly so that he wouldn't make a noise, so that the stupid lid wouldn't get out of control and clatter onto the ground in the momentum.
The first crate was filled with small packets. One felt like it had something sharp inside, the other smelled like roots and flowers – probably ingredients. There were other ones, with various things inside. One felt like it was filled with small pebbles. Either Ysolda got scammed, or people really bought rocks from merchants. It was likely though that these crates held her newly attained goods. At least he hoped as much.
He opened the next crate with the same care. The first packet felt like dried mushrooms, or something like that. So much fucking shit. Who even bought all that? Alright, the mushrooms, he could probably use for some meals. But the rest was just useless.
But finally, next, his hand landed on a packet that rang slightly at the touch – the sound of delicate metal clanking against metal. He only had to palm it a little bit to recognize the outlines of the rings and necklaces and bracelets inside.
Shit. This was it. The ring better fucking be there. He couldn't see all that well, but he was confident he could find it.
He grabbed the packet eagerly, taking it over to carefully place its contents onto the ground, but just as he was about to do that, the thing slipped from his hand in the motion.
At least half of it spilled onto the ground with more noise than he had anticipated, and in that, with a muttered curse escaping his lips, he shuffled around to make sure none of the jewelry pieces rolled away too far.
That… was a mistake.
The movement made his leg collide with one of the lids of the crates that was leaning on the wall. It fell down, of course it did, and the sound was even louder now.
Shit. That was too loud. What if…
"Who… who's there?"
Ysolda's scared voice echoed through the house suddenly and right after that, Bishop could hear the telltale creak of floorboards above his head.
Shit. Fuck.
Despite everything, Ysolda still had guts. And after what she'd been through, he had no doubt that she was going down, ready to use whatever provisionary weapon she could find without even thinking. Not that realizing who the intruder was would help anything. She would probably be even more eager to hurt him then.
He needed to get out. But he couldn't leave without the ring.
Shit. Fuck it.
He quickly scooped all the jewelry that he could and he started to toss it into his arm sling. He would have to find the ring outside. He couldn't stay here, not for another second.
He was done quickly. There were probably some pieces that didn't get under his hand, but he couldn't worry about that now. If the ring was among them, he would just have to come back. Whatever it took. But right now, he needed to bolt.
The jewelry rang in his sling as he got up on his feet and ran away, out of the door, as fast as he could. The second he got outside, he started to rummage in his sling with his hale arm. Now that there was light, he could do this really quickly. He just kept pulling out handfuls of jewelry, checking it briskly before he tossed it to the ground. It didn't matter if anyone saw him now – he would be gone soon. And he still had that cowl and mask.
He just needed to find it. Ysolda would get her shit back. It was just on her doorstep. He just needed to be quick.
Finally, with about a fifth handful, he saw it. The black onyx stone almost seemed to call to him. This was it. He got it. He finally got it. After this fucking long search, he finally had the ring.
Bishop promptly pulled down the fabric of the sling so that he could spill the rest of the jewels on the ground. Hopefully nobody would steal it before Ysolda would check outside.
She would, right? He really didn't want to steal from her. He really didn't want to leave her house thrashed and filled with her merchandize all over the fucking place. He really didn't want to scare her like that and make her worry now incessantly about intruders. Fuck.
Haven't you done enough to that girl, you fucking asshole? Why can't you stop just fucking making everything worse for her?
He felt like shit. Ysolda never deserved to have to deal with all that crap he had brought into her life. He actually fucking liked her. Like… a lot. She was so… normal. So grounding. He had never thought that he would look forward to going to Falkreath, but he did when he knew she would welcome him in her bedroom again whenever he was in the area. Since his only other past long-term dalliance at that time with a woman was with Neeshka, it was really something new. And as much as he tried to tell himself otherwise, when she ended things, because she found someone new, someone better for her, it did kind of hurt.
He just felt like such an asshole. As if he was constantly trying to get back at her for that with horrible shit. He really wasn't. He really wanted to leave her alone. He really wanted her to be happy and free of the past.
But the Gods apparently only laughed at his best laid plans.
And there was nothing to do now but flee, leaving her none the wiser, and scared again. Hopefully she would just think it was a robber trying to get to the jewelry to earn some septims. Or just some brain-addled skooma addict breaking into a random house. Not some… vicious attempt at revenge by bandits. Nothing that would bring her back into those painful memories.
He wished he had some money to leave there for her as compensation. But that would just be more confusing, wouldn't it? And it was not as if any amount of coin could make up for what he had done to her.
Fuck. Just stop thinking about this and leave.
Yeah. Leave. Good idea. Ysolda would be outside any second, rushing to call the guards.
It was best to get out of the city before that happened.