A Madman's Order

Chapter 3

Do You Get to the Cloud District Often?

So, I wound up in a place called Skyrim, in a land called Tamriel. To get even more specific, I got placed in a field outside of a city called Whiterun. My initial panic led me to not pay attention to much of my surroundings. I was more focused on figuring out where I ended up, why I would up here, and whether Phil- Sheogorath- whatever his name is, was nearby so I could scream at him.

Seeing as how the latter wasn't an option, due to Phil being an absolute mad coward, and seeing as how I'm no longer questioning my location and only barely questioning my sanity; I finally had a chance to look around from the passenger seat of Cicero's cart. From my observations, I can safely say this:

Skyrim is beautiful.

The plains outside of Whiterun rose and fell in small hills, reminding me of the gentle rolling of the countryside outside of Appleton. Grass swayed in the cold wind, giving the land waves that would make Lake Michigan envious. A few wild animals roamed the wilds near the bumpy, cobblestone road; mainly some goats, a few sheep, even a cow or two. We passed one farmer who was leading a painted cow somewhere. I heard Cicero exchange a couple of words with him. Something about Giants and an offering. I tuned it out at that point. I could only take so much crazy in a few days. Rich coming from a psychiatrist, but being teleported to a different world-reality- whatever this is, was beyond the usual type of insanity I worked with.

True to his word, after one day of traveling a tall hill sprouted from the plains, all alone. Atop the hill sat a large palace with towering roofs and great wooden beams holding it aloft. Stone walls, old and somewhat crumbling, surrounded the palace and the town beneath it. Smoke rose to the gray sky in gentle twirling streams from chimneys throughout the city.

I said nothing as we drew closer, passing by small farms and little hamlets outside of the city walls. A few men in yellow tunics, armor, and helmets walked by me and Cicero, but they paid us no mind. They bore wooden shields, painted yellow, with a stallion's head emblazoned on them. A pretty design really. Everything about this place was beautiful in a rugged way. Not my style, but I could appreciate it.

We drew closer to an offshoot off the main road which led to the main city. Cicero took the offshoot, pulling his wagon towards a drawbridge. At the base of the drawbridge stood a stable. Laughter came from two people chatting outside of the stables.

"By Ysmir, it's true. A jester, here in Skyrim," A scarred, middle-aged woman with red hair and plate armor scoffed, "just north by the Loreius farm."

I blinked. Was she the person I saw walking away without helping Cicero?

"Fool had a cart with a broken wheel and everything. Like to see him laugh his way out of that one." She fell into laughter with the stablemaster. Cicero then cleared his throat, causing their laughter to die. The woman's jaw fell open.

"I didn't laugh," Cicero said, a wide smile creasing his lips. I shivered. There was a sinister gleam in his gaze that made me shift in my seat. "Moreso giggled my way out. Cried for joy when someone did help me. Oh, and rewarded them too. Not that you were interested in such a thing. Your Nord pride kept you from doing so."

"What did you say, little man?" The woman growled.

"Easy, Uthgerd. No sense in making a mess outside the city gates." The stable master stepped forward. "How can I help you, sir, ma'am?"

Cicero beamed at the stablemaster. A friendlier expression than the woman received. "I'd like to place my cart here for the evening. Don't worry, Cicero won't be leaving it unattended. Mother and I just need some rest after a long journey before continuing on." He gestured at me. "Anastasia, on the other hand, is going into the city. Perhaps one of you could help her? She's a bit lost, in more ways than one." He finished with a snicker.

"Lost eh?" Uthgerd stepped forward, eyeing me with her hands on her hips. I swallowed hard. Talk about a hard gaze. "You look like a milk-drinker, that's for sure. Whatever. Tell you what; Jester, if I escort her safely to the Bannered Mare, will you forget about me joking at your expense?"

Cicero hummed as he thought for a moment. "I can accept that arrangement."

"Good," Uthgerd waved at me. "Come on already."

"Come on al- oh right!" I scrambled off the cart, nearly falling hard as my foot snagged on the step. After catching myself, I hissed and raced to catch up to Uthgerd. Once I reached her, I realized how out of breath I was. "God, you walk fast."

"Comes with all my traveling. Just try to keep up," She grunted.

We passed over the drawbridge, made our way through a winding section of Whiterun's walls, then reached the main gates, which were wide open. Inside the gates, I got a better view of the city. There were two main roads. One led to a series of houses on a hill, the other led to a market district straight ahead from the gate. Immediately to my right, upon entering the city, I heard a hammer striking metal. A blacksmith sat at the city entrance, and a slender woman wearing a red dress and a soot-stained apron worked at the forge. She glanced at me and the Uthgerd but said nothing. Instead, her gaze shifted to a group of men in what I can only describe as Roman armor marching towards her. I saw the small roll of her eyes. She was not looking forward to talking to them.

I did not get the chance to overhear their conversation. Uthgerd was still moving. With a gasp, I rushed after her, catching up when we reached Whiterun's markets. Several vendors with outdoor stalls hocked their wares such as "fresh" meat and produce. Another elderly woman was trying to sell jeweled trinkets. I spotted two main shops nearby, one with a sign with scales painted on it, the other with a bubbling flask painted on it. Several flowers I had never seen before sprouted from planters in front of the latter building, making me pause.

"Talk about colors," I muttered.

"Oy, milk drinker!" Uthgerd barked, "Bannered Mare is this way!"

I jumped, scowled at her less than neighborly attitude, then raced after her up some stairs and into the largest building in the market district.

The Bannered Mare was a tavern and an inn. Already, townsfolk were gathering around a fire pit at the center of the common room, sharing stories, eating, and drinking. A dark-skinned woman with short black hair raced from one person to the other, taking away empty goblets and handing out full ones. A weary-looking woman stood behind a short bar counter off to the side, counting coins. When she spotted Uthgerd, a small smile graced her lips.

"Welcome home Uthgerd. How fared your adventures?"

"Well enough, Hulda," Uthgerd replied.

Hulda smiled again then glanced at me. I immediately noticed her standoffish demeanor, which made me puzzled. Did I offend her somehow? I haven't even said anything yet.

"Since when do you travel with mages?" Hulda wondered.

I raised a hand, an annoyed laugh slipping from my lips. What is with these people thinking I'm some sort of magician?

"I'm not a mage."

"Staff and coat say otherwise, even if that coat ain't like anything I've seen before," Hulda remarked. "But, I won't question you again. No sense angering a mage."

"I-" I sighed and shook my head. "Fine, fine, whatever. How much for a room?"

"Forty-five gold."

My jaw dropped. "Huh?" I turned to see if Uthgerd had the same reaction, but my armored companion had already found a table off to the corner to drink alone. I had to fend for myself. "That's… that seems awfully steep."

"Don't like it, sleep outside."

"No, no, I-" A frustrated huff left my lips. I grabbed the gold Cicero gave me and opened the sack, a lump forming in my throat when I counted fifty coins. "Inflation in this land is high, damn."

Did I want to dump all of my money in one go for a warm bed? It was so tempting. But, I could not. I may be in a new world, but budgeting still exists, and if I want to find a way back I'll likely need gold to do so. If an inn was this expensive, then services to search for Phil and find a way home would be even pricier.

"What about a meal?" I asked. "What's on the menu?"

Now Hulda gave me a faint smile. "Find a seat by the fire. I'll send Saadia over to you."

She turned away before I could ask my question again. Just telling me to take a seat did not tell me how expensive the food would be. I ground my teeth, sighed, then went and found a seat by the fire. Nearby, I heard a young man with blonde hair banging a drum and singing. A group of people danced nearby, making me smile. At least it was warm in this place, both figuratively and literally. The fire crackled and burned hot in front of me.

"Five gold please." I heard, drawing me from my thoughts.

The woman I saw running around, Saadia, had paused by me, carrying a bowl of steaming broth, a slice of bread, and a goblet filled with a brown liquid. I raised an eyebrow puzzled. Then the smell hit me and my mouth watered.

"Yeah, that's worth it from the smell of things," I chuckled, but I got no amusement from Saadia. "Tough crowd," I muttered, fishing out five gold coins and handing them to her. She handed me my meal, then raced away to serve the others.

The singer off in the corner started singing a new song. Something about a guy named Ulfric and how he was a killer of kings. Seemed interesting, but I was too busy with my own thoughts to care.

Eventually, I got around to eating my meal. A simple stew, made with venison and potatoes. A bit bland, but warming, which I needed. While living in Wisconsin made me used to a cold winter, something about Skyrim felt colder. I shivered even as I sat by the fire.

God, what frozen hell have I ended up in?

"Think you can take me on!"

"Hundred gold says I beat your hide!"

I froze, my spoon hovering near my mouth. Behind me, I spotted Uthgerd rising from her corner table. Some guy wearing clunky armor with a horned helmet was waiting for her, fists clenched, ready for a fight. My eyes widened. Before I could say or do anything, before I could even think about bringing my spoon to my mouth, Uthgerd threw a fist into the guy's face.

A loud pop rang out, followed by a ringing ding from her gauntleted fist colliding with the guy's helmet. The guy staggered back, bumping into Saadia and causing her to spill all of the drinks she had on her tray onto a balding man wearing a guard's uniform. That man howled, shot from his seat, only to accidentally fall backward from the stool he was at and into the lap of a hulking man.

"Hello, Sinmir,"

"Captain," Sinmir grunted before shoving the Guard Captain off of him and into the minstrel near me.

More fists flew. Hulda at the counter yelled for everyone to calm down. No one heard her. I kept my spoon near my mouth and stared in awe as Uthgerd and the armored stranger sparked an all-out brawl in the inn. I flinched as a random person slammed into the bench next to me. My stew splashed out of the bowl, landing in my lap. The scorching broth burned, making me jump to my feet.

That's when I accidentally kicked Wabbajack.

A loud bang rang out. A flash of light shot through my eyes. I squeezed them shut, bracing for whatever was coming. Both of my arms flew over my head, a meager attempt to shield myself. I held my breath, waiting.

Nothing happened.

I cracked one eye open, thinking everything was fine. That I was safe and nothing could possibly go wrong.

I gulped when I noticed every eye in the inn staring at me. Jaws were unhinged. Every man, woman, and child gawked at me like I had grown a second head. Wait… did I?

I swear Phil if you caused this then I'm gonna-

A chicken clucked at the feet of the armored man named Sinmir. I blinked. That wasn't there before.

"By the divines!" Sinmir breathed, staring at me terrified. "You turned Mikael into a chicken!"

My mouth opened and closed rapidly. "D-Did I- uh- no I didn't?"

The sound of metal sliding against boiled leather hit my ears, making my hair stand on end.

"By order of the Jarl, I'm placing you under arrest."

I whirled around, seeing the balding man with his mead-stained uniform glaring at me, sword drawn. A pit formed in my gut. This entire trip just kept getting better. As I was being arrested, all I could think of was one thing.

Damn you, Phil.

Unlike the natural beauty of Skyrim, a jail cell is about as nasty as it gets. So, not much difference between worlds. During my student days, before I actually was a practicing psychiatrist, I had to do whatever a professor told me to do. One of those things was visiting a prison ward and observing a consultation. That visit opened my eyes and made me realize that I should have never been drinking underage at college parties, because oh god, I could've wound up there.

So, me saying that the jail cells back home aren't much better than what I currently sat in was a startling realization for me. Actually, this cell might be better. While it was dour and dark, and it smelled like wet feet thanks to the water dripping in from the far corner, that was the only smell I had to worry about. I didn't share this cell with anyone. It was my own, cramped space, complete with a lovely pile of crunchy straw to sleep on and a bucket to crap in.

… at least modern prisons had toilets?

I huffed as I sat on the ground, trying to figure out how it came to this. In the span of a couple of days, I had been abducted to a different world (a fact that I am now certain of due to the entire medieval Viking aesthetic. There's no way this is some elaborate con-job), met a jester transporting his dead mother, and got arrested due to turning some poor guy into a chicken because I nudged a staff I had no control over.

I'm going to get a migraine.

A long breath sputtered from my lips. What now? It's not like I could get out of here. If there's one thing the king, or jarl- whatever the guy who ruled this place was called- spared no expense on was the iron bars of my cell. Sturdy as they come. Then again, I'm also thin as a reed and can barely pry apart a pair of stuck lego bricks. It's not like I stood much of a chance muscling my way out of this prison.

So I sat, and I waited. I wouldn't get any visitors, besides the jailor. He did bring me a meager meal to eat. That told me I was wanted alive and somewhat healthy, even though the meal was less than satisfying. But why did they want me alive? After a few hours, it became obvious to me that the legal system here was much more draconian than back home. I didn't have the opportunity to ask for a lawyer, my rights were not read to me, and I wasn't even going to try to ask for my one phone call. Was I even going to get a trial?

Before I could ponder my own question, footsteps drew near. At first, I thought they were the jailor's. But, as I listened, I realized they were light steps, barely noticeable in Whiterun's dingy dungeons. The jailor was a heavyset man, weighed down even more by his armor and the battle-ax he kept strapped across his back. An intimidating mountain of flesh, except for the round gut. He must have been one of the regular guards back in the day, but graduated to guarding prisoners when he got too fat. So, the steps I heard couldn't be his.

When I heard mad giggling, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. At first, I feared the worst. Had Phil found me again? Was this yet another shenanigan by someone claiming to be a god of madness? I hoped not. I've had enough of those.

"Oh, Miss Anastasia," Cicero's sing-song tone bounced off of the stone walls. He emerged from the shadows of the hall beyond my cell like a ghost. He was pale enough to pull off that comparison too. When he saw me, he snickered. "Well now, you appear to have gotten yourself stuck and lost at the same time."

"No kidding?"

"Wound up in the Cloud District's most premier lodging, eh?" Cicero cackled. "Cicero hasn't had the pleasure of enjoying the amenities here yet. Are they comfortable?"

I gave Cicero a long, irritated glance. "Had your fun?"

Cicero beamed at me as he tiptoed to my cell. "On the contrary, my friend, the fun is only just beginning."

I raised an eyebrow as he held a finger to his lips. He crouched in front of my cell, dropping to eye-level with the door lock. After digging into one of the pouches on his outfit, he withdrew a pair of small metal tools. A couple of seconds later, a small click rang through my cell. Cicero chirped out a happy sound, then shoved my door open, making my eyes widen.

"Well, shall we?"

I gawked at Cicero. "Please tell me the jailor lost his key and you had to do that as part of paying my bail."

Cicero laughed. "Bail? No, no, Cicero does not pay bail. Cicero does pay jailors, but not coins, moreso visits." He waved his hand at me. "Now come, we must leave Whiterun. Falkreath awaits."

Without another word, he turned and marched with much gusto down the corridor, his feet barely making a sound against the stone floor. I eyed him as he walked away, then I looked at my open cell door.

Do I go? Or, do I stay? Why was I even asking myself that question? It's pretty obvious now that I'm not going to get a trial in this city.

I drew in a deep breath, nodded, then tip-toed out of my cell. Once out, I followed Cicero down the corridor to a heavy door. He pulled it open with ease. What came through the door next made me yelp and cover my mouth with my hands.

"Oh, right," Cicero bent over and picked up the jailor's corpse, tossing him to the side of the door like he was a mere piece of meat. "He was less than welcoming."

The jailor's helm was gone, allowing me to see his face contorted in the final glimpses of agony he felt. An enormous slash marred his throat. Small streams of blood continued to run down his neck and stain his yellow tunic. A large, scarlet pool collected near the door, some of it beginning to spill into the prison itself. An enormous lump formed in my throat. I looked at Cicero, horrified by the easy-going smile he had on his lips.

"D-Did you-"

"Kill him? Of course!" He happily declared, making my stomach drop and my knees knock. "How else was I going to get to you? Cicero does not have enough coins, and as I said before, bail is not something mother and me do. So, he had to die."

I swallowed hard. "Did he though?"

Cicero paused a few steps ahead of me, tilted his head, then shrugged. "He'll never know if he had to or not, now will he?"

I wanted to vomit.

"Now, we must move quickly, or else both of us will be caught. Mother will be most cross with me if that happens."

I did not move from my spot. "Hold on!" I hissed. "Why are you doing this? Why did you-" I wanted to tear my hair out from fear and confusion. "I have no idea what is going on anymore but I'm officially terrified."

"Then Cicero is doing his job well," Cicero smiled. "As for your questions, they will be answered later. The guards change shifts soon. We must go."

I stayed still. "What if I don't go with you?"

Cicero paused at the base of a small flight of stairs. A more sinister gleam entered his gaze. I shrank beneath it. Gone was the jester, replaced by a predator I did not want to cross.

"Then Whiterun will have another body to bury."

That was all the motivation I needed. I rushed past him up the stairs, ignoring his sudden hisses to wait a moment. Without thinking, I burst through the door, out into the night, and right into the waiting form of a hulking Whiterun guard. I froze, for a brief moment wondering if the gargantuan mass of muscle in front of me even felt me hit him. That was a stupid thing to wonder because of course, he noticed.

"Going somewhere?" He growled, drawing a sword from his hip.

I swallowed hard. "I'm guessing around you isn't an option?"

He snarled, reached for me, then froze. A dagger slammed into his head with a sharp squelch, piercing through the eye slit of his helmet. Vomit crept up my throat as the massive guard crumpled to the ground, almost knocking me down as he flopped over.

And now I was hyperventilating.

Cicero cackled as he stepped over the dead guard's body. "While Cicero likes your enthusiasm, perhaps Anastasia should follow me instead?"

I nodded dumbly and stepped over the dead man's body before his blood could stain my shoes. Cicero scampered ahead, moving with practiced ease. As we raced along a cobblestone path, I glanced to my right and paused, jaw falling open as I looked up at a towering palace made of stone and wood.

"Woah…"

"Miss Anastasia!" Cicero hissed.

A horn blew from nearby. I spun around and spotted a guard near the main doors of the palace. He was pointing at us.

"Prisoner escape!"

I winced as Cicero glared at me. "S-Sorry?"

"We run now."

"I can do that."

I broke into an all-out sprint, racing after Cicero as he dashed down what felt like a thousand steps towards a dead tree at the center of a circular courtyard at the base of the palace. As we rushed past that tree, I spotted a man in rough, tanned robes emerge from his house, groggy. Then he spotted us, and he quickly retreated back inside.

Another horn blew. I ran faster. Something hissed past my ear. After that sound, I heard Cicero's mad laughter as he threw his head back and howled ahead of me.

"They're really trying to kill us now!"

"What!?" I screamed.

Another hiss rushed past my ear, followed by a thunk as an arrow embedded in a wooden pillar. I sucked in a sharp breath and ran faster. Faster than I had run at any point in my entire life.

"Thank God for these shoes," I looked down at the white tennis shoes I wore whenever I was the night shift doctor at the ward. "Thank you, God. Thank you!"

If Phil abducted me during the day, I would've been wearing heels. That would've been a major problem.

We rushed down another set of stone steps and burst into the circular market district. From there, Cicero pivoted to the right and bolted for the wide-open main gate. I gasped as I watched the heavy, wooden doors begin to close. Two guards stood in front of the gate, bows drawn, arrows aimed at us.

"Cicero!"

"Run, run, run while we can!" He cackled with glee.

"Is this fun for you!?"

"Exhilarating for me!"

"You're insane!"

Cicero howled but said nothing. He barreled ahead of me, picking up speed I didn't know his short legs possessed. Twin daggers appeared in his hands. I had no idea where he got them.

One guard fired an arrow. It sailed by Cicero as he ducked to the left. That same arrow skipped against the ground by my feet, making me hop and scream. Still, I kept running, even as I stumbled when another arrow came too close to hitting my skull for comfort. After I stumbled, I looked up. Horror grabbed me.

Cicero was on top of the two gate guards. In one fluid motion, he swept to the right guard, bashing his bow out of the way before sweeping around him and slashing his throat. His eyes gleamed with happiness as the guard slumped in his grasp, blood pouring from his throat and over Cicero's gloved hand as the jester held him upright.

The other guard spun and fired an arrow in a state of panic. Cicero whirled around, letting the arrow impale the dying guard in his grasp. With a snarl, the jester shoved the nearly dead guard at the still-living one, then he pounced. Both daggers burrowed into the neck of the second guard, killing him instantly.

"Through the gate!" He hissed at me.

I never broke stride. I forced myself to not look at the grisly scene. If I did, the tears burning down my cheeks and the vomit creeping up my throat would force me to stop running. Just in time, I managed to slip through the gate. Cicero surged through after me. The gate slammed closed.

More guards rushed atop the walls, firing arrows at us. None hit their target.

My lungs were on fire by the time we reached Cicero's cart by the stables. I wheezed as I scrambled into the back, ducking beside Cicero's mother's coffin as an arrow pelted against it. An enraged snarl tore from Cicero's lips when he saw the arrow skip off of the coffin's crate.

"Have some damned respect for the dead!" He shook his fist. Then, he snapped the reins. With a sharp jolt, the cart took off down the road, away from Whiterun and towards towering mountains to the south of the city.

Once we barreled down the road and drifted through a sharp turn towards the mountains, I finally poked my head up from my spot beside the coffin. Everything hit me all at once.

"Oh my God! Holy shit! Holy Mary mother of God! Jesus H-"

Cicero's laughter interrupted my well-deserved meltdown. "Yes! Curse the gods, Anastasia. For the only fair one is Sithis, and the Void!"

"I'm not cursing. I'm crying!" I shouted, my voice hoarse. Had I been screaming during that entire chase?

"Then cry to the heavens! Let them all hear your displeasure."

I furrowed my brow, my confusion and frustration overtaking the terror and panic I felt. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a screaming staff leaning against the coffin's crate.

"No…" I muttered.

"Hm?" Cicero replied, glancing at me from the driver's seat.

I clambered over the cart, grasped the staff. The jailor had this staff, didn't he? How did it wind up in Cicero's cart? He didn't grab it. At least, I don't think he did? Was it following me? Did Phil put it here? Something new welled up inside of me. It wasn't fear. It also was not panic, even though I still felt a great deal of both.

I felt rage.

I shot to my feet, held Wabbajack up, and pointed it at the brewing storm over the mountains.

"Fuck you, Phil!"

And chapter! From one madman to another, Anastasia is having a time isn't she? Poor girl is having a hard time catching a break. At least she's not rotting in Whiterun's prison, nor did she have the misfortune of running into Nazeem (yet?). This was a fun little chapter. Let me know what you all think of it. As always, I hope you all enjoyed it. Have a nice day!

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