"Captain, the Jarl would like a word," said the city guard whose name Haran still could not remember. In his defense, he did not make much of an effort to do so, most of his mental capacity still dedicated to playing his part as a lawful, upstanding citizen of the Rift. But part of his mental capacity also recognized that the word lawful meant whatever Jarl Maven Black Briar wanted it to mean.
It was many years since he had gone by the name his mother had given him, and there were times when he was shocked to hear it used, and it took him a moment to remember that he had left the name of Frik behind, as he had left behind the friend from his youth who had originally worn it. That friend's death was decades in the past, whatever second life he had achieved when Haran had assumed his identity in order to avoid the unfortunate consequences he would have incurred as a result of his poor choices. He had spent almost as many years as Frik as he had spent answering to the name of Haran, though no one in the Rift would recognize either name, the former having lived mostly in Whiterun and the Pale, while the latter had solely resided in Haafingar.
It had cost him almost ever piece of gold he possessed to buy his commission, but it had taken him only a short time to earn some of it back. Jarl Maven Black Briar recognized immediately in the petitioner standing before her a man who would not hesitate to carry out her orders, even if those orders required him to get his hands dirty, or bloody. The newly minted Captain Haran, his officer's armor still an unaccustomed weight on his shoulders, had quickly proved his worth in that regard.
But his position also required him to keep to the windy side of the law where it pertained to the Empire's more public face in the Rift, which suited Haran's personal idiom well enough. His official pay as a Captain of the City Guard, when combined with his earnings in private service to the Jarl, made his life quite comfortable; and Haran was old enough that comfort was at the fore of his motivations. He had long ago grown tired of living in caves, or abandoned forts, or the other decaying structures that had been Krev's lodging of choice. He only now had to stay in the Jarl's good graces, which also meant not crossing the Dark Brotherhood, or the Thieves Guild.
It also meant not keeping the Jarl waiting once a summons had been issued.
Clesa was not the only one to notice an early nip in the air, she was just more vocal in her protests regarding it.
"It seems that it turns colder earlier and earlier as the years pass."
Gwenyfe walked slowly at the Redguard warrior's side and observed the mists that still filled the hollows, and much of the other landscape that waited for the sun to show its face. Both women knew that those mists would burn away quickly after that, and that the cool morning was to be enjoyed while possible since the afternoon would once again be quite warm.
"Is Hammerfell so different from Hjaalmarch? In the Reach this would still be considered mild, and in these northern parts most Nords will not don warmer clothing until Sun's Dawn."
"There are regions in Hammerfell where the temperature during Sun's Height could melt an iron helm," the dark skinned woman said, "and so as a race we have adapted to survive in those climbs, and those conditions."
"Well you are in Skyrim now, friend; best you learn to adapt to colder weather. Or buy a good cloak, and hat and gloves to match."
A familiar voice spoke out of the mists behind them.
"Gods, I have been looking all over for the two of you," Sharn said, "this mist is thick as barley soup. You could hide an army in it."
"You found us easily enough," Gwenyfe answered, "so perhaps it is not so good a method of concealment."
Sharn's chin tilted in the direction of Clesa as she replied.
"I followed the sound of her hair as you two were walking. Sound travels very well in these conditions."
Clesa's face became harder as her back straightened and her shoulders went back.
"I was making no attempts at stealth. That is the only reason you heard anything."
"It was not meant as an accusation; Gods, why is everyone so touchy?"
No one would deny that almost everyone in the Silver Hand village (which still lacked a proper name) had been on edge recently, and while not all of them would attribute that edginess to the recent visit they had received from two Companions most of them would correctly connect the two things. The number of men and women who would just as accurately recognize the absence of any touchiness or edginess in Vala and Gwenyfe was much smaller, and those select individuals were also aware exactly why the two women were immune.
"How is it that the Gods chose both of us to find love in the most unlikeliest of places?" Vala had asked Gwenyfe only the day before, "If you had told me before I met him that I would fall in love with a member of the Inner Circle I would have accused you of being a Skooma addict."
"Falling in love with Aric was as natural a process for me as breathing in and out, whatever I might have thought before hand," Gwenyfe had answered, "at least you have the chance for a long and enduring love, and many years together in which to enjoy it. Aric has been quite honest that our time together is not infinite."
Vala had taken a moment to consider her words before replying to her friend and comrade.
"No couple is guaranteed that. Everyone's days on this earth, singly, or in the company of their beloved, are finite. In that respect you and Aric are no different than anyone else. My time with Farkas will also have an ending, and given the life we both lead, that ending is likely to be abrupt, and violent. Just enjoy the days that the two of you have together. That is what I intend to do."
Gwenyfe's smile broke through the clouds just as she replied.
"I believe you have already begun to enjoy your days together, if the noises coming from your cottage last night are any indication. Gods, your face has become so red that I believe your head will burst.
Vala's face, which was now concealed by both her hands, had indeed become as red as a beetroot at the discovery that her first night of lovemaking with Farkas had not been as secret as she had hoped, or believed.
"Gods, tell me I beg you that the entire village did not hear what you heard," Vala's muffled voice said as her hands continued to cover her face.
"The entire village? No, I think you are safe in that regard."
It was called Fort Greenwall for some reason even though, as far as Haran could tell, there was nothing green about it.
"Perhaps it is someone's name?" one of the guards accompanying him suggested.
"Perhaps it has a green wall inside the fort?" offered another guard.
I should make more of an effort to learn their names, Haran thought. It was not, strictly speaking, dedication that motivated him; as far as that went, Haran was still primarily motivated by, and dedicated to, his own comfort. But if he was to play the upstanding officer he was required to act the part as well as look it; and while the latter was well in hand, the former still needed work.
Jarl Maven Black Briar's urgent summons had not included how the target of her request had acquired its name; she had only stated that the bandits within the fort had descended upon a shipment that was meant for her and her family, and that Captain Haran was to take ten men, clear the fort of bandits (which needed no explanation, since there was only one way Maven Black Briar dealt with anyone who took something that belonged to her), retrieve what was stolen, and return it to the Jarl. It was not the first time that Haran had been required to clear the fort; it straddled the main road out of Riften, and was almost always home to some band or another. Krev would have liked it, except that it drew too much attention from the authority in the Rift, and received too many visits such as the one that Haran was about to pay it.
They were still a distance away when it became clear that the bandits had erected barricades at the fort entrance, and that they would be forced to dismount and make the final approach on foot. The left their horses, making sure to tie them so that even the strongest bow could not reach them, and proceeded towards the stone structure. Men could be seen clearly above the parapet wall, and all the guards save for Haran had a shield at the ready in case those men chose to rain arrows down upon them as they approached. They stayed together, ten men under a covering of wood and steel shields like some many limbed tortoise until they were close enough that Haran gave the command for them to begin their sprint that would take them the final distance to the battle before them.
Haran had never been one to position himself to the fore when it came to battle, not when he had still called himself Frik, and not now. So it was that he was in the center most position of his men when they finally breached the fort and began to engage the bandits there. What brief glance he took of the men who were the reason that he and his men had traveled here was more than enough for him to see that in most ways they resembled his former comrades when he had been Krev's faithful lieutenant.
Haran had just dispatched the first man that had opposed him and was beginning to confront his next opponent when a powerful blow stuck him squarely on the back, driving him forward before depositing him on the stone that covered the courtyard of the fort. It was as he lay still for a moment attempting to regain his breath that he began to realize that something was seriously wrong. His breath had still not returned, and the dizziness that he was experiencing became worse as his hand reached around behind him to find the arrow shaft that protruded from his back. Haran, once known as Frik to those who knew him in the Pale, had time for one final thought as his eyes began to darken.
This is what comes of trying to live an upstanding life.
"Aela believes she has located the men who killed Skjor," Farkas said to Soran and Hellina. As was her custom whenever he visited their village, Vala was close to Farkas; and a uninformed observer would be forgiven their erroneous assumption that she was his fellow Companion rather than a member of the Hand. Vala herself was not conscious of the fact that she stood next to him and faced her two commanders with such a posture that caused Husband and Wife to exchange a look that was equal parts concern and mirth.
"Where were they located?" Hellina asked, preceding Soran by barely a second.
"Do you know of a fort called Driftshade Refuge?" Farkas asked.
Soran had taken a breath and was just about to reply when he was once again preempted by his wife.
"We know it. It is to the south east of Dawnstar, about a day's ride from here."
"It appears that at least some of the men responsible for Skjor's murder went there."
Hellina and Soran exchanged a brief glance, after which Soran was finally able to get a word in edgewise.
"Some of the men?"
"She believes that all the men entered the fort, but a number of them may have departed again. But she is certain that at least some of the men are still inside."
The commanders of the Hand exchanged a slightly longer glance before the Harbinger spoke again.
"What does she intend to do?"
"At the insistent urging of our brother Companion Aric, Thane of Whiterun, she and Aric await your arrival before they assault the fort."
Soran stood immediately upon hearing those words.
"If you will allow me a moment to arm and armor myself, sir, I am at your disposal."
"You cannot deny me, beloved, I have as much right to go as you do."
Soran looked at the woman he loved more than he loved his own life and smiled before he answered.
"I do not deny that. But one of us must remain. The Hand needs one of its commanders close by. Only one of us may go."
Hellina stood as tall as was humanly possible and lifted her chin as her fists came to rest on her hips.
"Then why cannot I be the one to go?"
Soran's smiled broadened as he picked up his long sword from it's resting place in the corner of their room.
"Because I was quicker off the mark to claim that right than you were."
Theirs was not the only conversation on the subject, but in the second case it was not a question of command structure.
"You know that, barring my brother Vilkas, there is no one I would rather be at my side in battle," Farkas said, "but I will not risk you in this. You must remain here."
Vala's face became hot as her throat tightened, matching the tightness she felt in her chest.
"You do not believe I can defend myself, or that I will be some form of burden?" Vala asked, the pain and hurt clear in her voice.
It took Farkas a moment to respond, and Vala knew from the look on his face that she had missed the mark quite badly.
"It is not that. Aela's blood will be up, and she is unpredictable even at the best of times. When she is in beast form there is no telling what she may do, and I cannot guarantee that she not transform when the time comes to exact her revenge. If that were to happen, you would be in grave danger; and I would be forced to either kill her or watch you die, and either of those choices would kill me. If you love me, do not put me in the position of having to choose."
Her feelings of hurt and anger evaporated immediately as she looked at his face while he spoke. She still did not feel that she knew him well, but she had never seen his hansom face show so much emotion.
Vala stepped forward so that she could reach up and place her hand on the side of his face.
"I am sorry, my love. I did not realize what it was that you were thinking. Please forgive me."
His eyes were slightly damp as he smiled at her. He drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
"There is nothing to forgive, my beautiful gem. Losing Skjor was hard. Losing you would be more than I could bear. It is selfish of me, but it fills my mind to overflowing. I cannot lose you in that fashion."
She smiled softly as her hand stayed on his face.
"Then I will do as you ask, but only after you promise to return to me."
His hands found her waist and drew her close.
"I promise that I will do all that my honor and my duty allows to return to you."
The two women stood and watched as the men they loved departed, accompanied by Dralof, Siggyr, Sharn and Balan. Gwenyfe kept them company after saying farewell to her long time companion.
"Perhaps when this is over, I will steal him away from you," the tall Orsimer said to her Reachman friend with a broad smile.
If she had made such a remark a year ago Gwenyfe's fair face would have become flushed with blood and indignation. But her relationship with Aric was such that it was impervious to such barbs.
"You have my blessing to entertain him in whatever manner you choose, so long as he participates willingly," she had replied with her own smile. She recognized the false tone of petulance immediately when her friend spoke again.
"Why must you spoil everything with your voice of reason?"
All levity evaporated from Gwenyfe's voice and posture as she responded.
"I am just concerned. Be on your guard, both for Krev and his men, but also for those members of the Inner Circle. Farkas' warning is well heeded. We do not know how she will react, once Krev is dead but members of the Hand remain. Can she tell friend from foe in that state?
"It is a fair question. I will never let my guard down, do not fear."
"I will feel better once all of you have returned."
"Be warned, I am not above manufacturing an elaborate lie about how he was overcome by my charms and we spent a entire night and day making love."
Gwenyfe's smile reappeared and broke into a full throated laugh.
"I would expect nothing less."