Apologies for the absence but over the last few weeks, I've actually been interviewing for several medical schools, so that took priority over uploads. The good news is that, in addition to this, I have the next two chapters after this pretty much done

Respite

The captain's men worked efficiently. By the time they had moved into the manor, every bit of evidence that it had been previously owned had been scrubbed away. The shattered door and broken furniture were replaced, bodies removed, personal belongings collected, pools of blood cleaned up; one could be forgiven for mistaking the place to be brand new.

The chair Felwinter had dropped into after the fight was still there, though he suspected they at least wiped it down. It turned towards the dead fireplace, brought to life again with a wave of a hand. Felwinter went around the lower level, sparking flames and lighting candles with his fingers one by one.

Settling down was quick but only because there wasn't much to settle. They'd be heading to the temple the day after the next and once and for all, they were going to put a stop to this. Felwinter left Gregor to handle dinner while Jordis set more chairs down near the fireplace for them to sit. Felwinter went through the other rooms until he found one he deemed both slightly spacious and inconspicuous enough to set the portal.

Jordis joined him when she finished, taking to watching him. "Do you think distance will be a problem?" she asked, standing over Felwinter as he kneeled.

"Doubt it. The distance between us and the mainland is about the same as between Riften and Solitude. Portal goes through a pocket of Oblivion as a shortcut so I don't think-is Gregor almost done cause I'm hungry as shit!" He demanded loudly, switching topics without a beat.

Jordis huffed, amused. "Shouldn't be much longer."

Felwinter whines but goes back to his work. "This used to be a two-person job, you know. But I've gotten enough practice in the magic involved."

"How do you make sure it's safe to go in?"

"It's not as if it goes through a place like the Deadlands or Apocrypha. There's little danger of anything waiting on the other side. But just to be safe, I tend to stick something through." He turned as if he could feel the look she was aiming at his head. "Not myself. Learned that lesson a while back." He waved the marked arm for emphasis.

"Really? Since when were you the type to learn lessons?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"It's been known to happen..."

His defensive tone was all she needed. "Moth forbade it, didn't he?"

"Neither you nor he are any fun."

Gregor's voice came through, accompanied by loud banging on the door. Their meal was ready.

No windows but the sun was down, judging by how quickly the place cooled. Felwinter would need time to set the runes and spells in place that would keep the place warm and the fires sealed off. Neither would get done on an empty stomach.

The stew bubbled over the fireplace and several trays of fresh bread lay before it. The food was good, even after Felwinter had gotten his spaces into it.

I put three pinches of salt into something and you Nords start crying. You'll deal with it tonight.

Jordis had her fill after one. Gregor was starting in on his second, scarfing down a loaf of bread and Felwinter was standing at the fireplace, dishing out his fourth. A house sealed against the elements, shut away from the public with a pot of food over a roaring fire, this was the most relaxed any of them had been since their arrival, even with the battle ahead.

Not even Gregor seemed apprehensive. Quite the opposite; the man had flopped into the bed given to him as soon as his armor had been removed and only the promise of food got him moving again, until he was told he'd have to make it. Now here he was, a far cry from the image of the stalwart, serious and protective guardsman. He slouched in his chair, one hand splayed over his torso, the other loosely clutching a mug of chilled ale. Legs splayed out towards the fire and a groggy grin aimed towards nothing gracing his face.

The display reminded Jordis of a question she had been meaning to ask for some time. "Thane?"

"That's me."

"You said before that after me, you weren't taking on any more housecarls," she recalled, gesturing to the other Nord, "What changed your mind?"

Gregor's brow furrowed. He leaned forward just a bit, anticipating Felwinter's answer. The half-Breton stretched out the leg still paining him and rubbed his beard. "Ahh, it's a long story…"

Gregor lifted his cup to his lips. A short pause.

Jordis ended it. "It's the muscles, isn't it?" she asked and smiled at the fit of coughing that erupted from the other side of the room.

The defensive tone returned. "No...well...they helped!"

"I'm sure."

Gregor groaned loudly, openly. It wasn't the drink alone responsible for the sudden reddening of his skin.

"I...listen…" Felwinter's hand darted out and suddenly took hold of Gregor's heavy arm, yanking him forward. "Can you blame me? Look at him. Muscled like a maiden's fantasy."

"Mmhmm."

"I'm a weak man, Jordis."

"You are."

Gregor snatched his arm back, turning even further away and practically tucking his bald head into the neck of his shirt, shoulders shaking. The two of them refused to let up. "Maybe I'll take him to High Rock with me one day but honestly, those noble girls would never give him back. They'd ruin him. At least until their dear lord father found out…"

"And demanded his turn."

"Alright, alright, mercy!" Gregor practically crowed, red from the crown of his head to the center of his chest. "Divines, have mercy."

"Just having some fun, Gregor," Felwinter said, taking down the rest of his food, "In truth, I had forgotten to tell them. By the time I returned to Dawnstar, they had you waiting for me. You seemed so eager and ready to serve, I didn't have the heart to send you back. Then this whole…" Felwinter waved at the air, "mess started, so I figured I'd take you along. Get you broken in. Good and rough." He leaned over and jostled the housecarl for emphasis.

Jordis rose to her feet. "We all have our first," she said, making for the barrel of ale sitting in a back corner, "You had more fun against Carius than I did against the Wolf Queen."

Felwinter pressed the conversation on through Gregor's sudden, sharp pause. "Yeah and what does that mean for me? I had to be there for all of it."

"Thane, you were the reason we were there in the first place."

"I wasn't even a thane yet, was I?" Felwinter leaned forward and picked his mug off the ground. "And still, they just threw you at me."

"The Wolf Queen?" Gregor asked loudly, "Potema, the Wolf Queen?!"

"Yes, Gregor. Keep up."

"I won't complain. Much." Jordis said, earning a half-buzzed chortle. She returned to her chair. "It worked out well in the end."

"So it did. Now I'm the one who gets to throw you at things."

"More like you throw yourself at things and I follow out of obligation."

A snort. "Obligation, my dark, wrinkly sack. You follow cause you care."

"And I will never admit it."

"Good enough for me." Felwinter held his mug out and Jordis tapped her own against it.

Silence followed, companionable and easy. Wordlessly, Felwinter gestured to the last of the bread they had been gifted and snatched it up when both Jordis and Gregor rejected it. "If you don't mind me asking, where did you train, Jordis? Solitude?"

"Somewhat. Was actually born in Falkreath and moved up to Solitude when I was a child with my ma and sister. It was my mother who trained us to fight. My sister learned but as she grew older, she took more of an interest in magic so she moved down to Cyrodiil."

Felwinter rumbled, "Finally, someone with taste."

Jordis gently kicked his shin. "She and our mother are doing well there. Found herself a good-paying job and a man. Another Nord who challenged her to a duel and lost so spectacularly, he's fallen head over heels. He's been wooing her ever since."

"Good man!" Felwinter raised his mug and this time, did not get kicked.

"What of you, thane?" Gregor turned his attention, "All I hear of High Rock is mages and nobles and ridiculous titles. Any actual training done?"

"You got the gist of it. I'm as much 'Lord' as I am 'Thane'. But to answer, I learned a lot of my magic from my mother. Tutored me herself and paid for my education. Learned sword fighting from the castle's master-at-arms, Ser Roderin Castel. Brute of a man, taller and bigger than I am even now, he was good with everything but best with greatswords. I stuck with regular longswords so I could use my magic while fighting. Learned more techniques for that after slumming it for damn near twelve years in Hammerfell."

"What were you doing down there?"

Felwinter shrugged. "Growing up. From the time I was born to age seven and then age thirteen to eighteen, I grew up in a castle bigger than Dragonsreach. Ate the finest foods, trained with one of the best knights in the realm and received an education befitting an heir to Dragon's Ascent. Going from the pinnacle of society to the dregs, I didn't have much choice but to grow up."

He smiled, again at the fire. "Could you imagine it? Hammerfell, four or five years in, still too much of a boy to grow a beard, half the weight I am now, fitted in cheap, ramshackle armor, sleeping in a different seedy inn on the nights he could afford it and in stables when I couldn't and realize, this is a Breton lord?" His head fell back and he swallowed, the bobbing of his throat outlined by firelight. "This kid calling himself a sellsword, running with less than scrupulous companies, grew up richer than everyone in every one of those companies combined."

"Did you regret leaving High Rock?" Jordis asked.

Felwinter straightened his neck again. "No. I regret how I left things but I don't regret leaving. I couldn't be what High Rock wanted me to be. It was best for everyone that I leave."

Silence passes over them again, filled only with the shift of bodies, breathing and the crackle of the flames. Then Jordis asked, gently, "Will you ever go back?"

Even softer, he answered. "Eventually. If anything, the kids should meet their grandmother. Moth should meet her too." He finishes the last of his drink and smiles wide, baring his teeth. "And my grandfather's grave hasn't been watered in a while. Someone should get on that."

Another pause. Then Jordis snorted. Gregor only blinked. "You planted flowers on his grave?"

"No."

"And why would you water them, I thought you hated….ah."

A second snort, louder and longer this time. "Ah?" Felwinter asked.

"Ah."

It was late when they began to break apart. Jordis retires first and Gregor assures that he will leave soon. Felwinter tells him to do so anyway, gently slapping the side of his shaved head on his way back to the portal room. He closed the doors behind him. The wooden frame had been set up quickly and with little effort. The hard part was still to come.

Felwinter peeled off his shirt for comfort, the garment sweat-damp from the heat of the fireplace and the alcohol. Gently, to keep pressure off his bad knee, he lowered into a sitting position on the stone floor. He picked up a notebook, still where he had left it, still on the page he had left it. His eyes zeroed in on the sketches of glyphs and the lines of text that swirled around them.

He wasn't reading.

He was thinking of High Rock. Of Dragon's Ascent. Of his mother. If he was right and distance wasn't a factor in the portal room's functionality then there was no reason he couldn't…

He closed his eyes, his jaw set tight. He'd still have to go to High Rock, finish the portal's set up. And he wasn't ready to do that. Not yet. He wasn't brave enough.

Thoughts for another time, he decided. Felwinter extended his arm, pressing his pointer and middle to the stone, letting his magic gather at that point and when it reached levels he deemed sufficient, he began to draw.

The highlight of this chapter was getting to write Felwinter saying "My dark, wrinkly sack"