Chapter 2
Lucretia needed a plan. It has been three days since she awoke in Falkreath and she was still stranded alone in the Imperial-controlled town too far south of where she still needs to be.
She also feels guilty for taking advantage of Runil's hospitality by allowing her to stay for free in his cabin, though when she offered to pay him for his assistance, he claimed that he had been happy to help and would be affronted to accept any of her gold when she appeared to have so little. 'If only he knew…'
By now her husband will have been aware of her prolonged disappearance and have begun his search for her, she prays he would never think to look north towards Skyrim and deep into Stormcloak's territory. Both sides would be hostile to her; the supporters of the Empire for her running off to Stormcloak territory, and the Stormcloaks because to them she is the personification of a magic-wielding Imperial who is potentially a spy for the Empire-or worse, the Thalmor. Without Valerius here to take the brunt of the blows that will be directed at her, she will need another weapon she would be able to utilize in order to survive long enough for her brother to find her–her words and if all else fails, fire to the face. She can only pray to the Divines that it doesn't come to that.
Without Falkreath keeping its own stables, she could neither buy herself a horse nor rent a carriage to carry her Windhelm. When she brought up her concerns about traveling to Runil, he offered to speak on her behalf to one of the guards to inquire about a short escort to Riverwood. From there she could make the walk to Whiterun which does have a stable and pay for a carriage to take her the rest of the way.
It was a couple hours past dawn when Lucretia and Runil made their way to Falkreath's western gate to await the guard who would accompany her to Riverwood. She was dressed in a simple belted tunic and already she was missing the enchantments from her mage's robes but beggars–because that is what she is at this point–cannot be choosers. She will have to make do with what septims she managed to escape with as well as the ones she received for her tattered robes.
She readjusted the pack over her shoulder, another courtesy from Runil along with a worn map of Skyrim. His easy acceptance of her and his efforts to make her comfortable since she was brought to him, disquiets her. She was fairly certain there was more to this Altmer priest than meets the eye, what that was though… It was beyond her concern at the moment and she will accept his help at face value.
"Hmm.. ah, there he is." Runil waves towards a guard walking their way with a horse. "Knud, thank you for helping out an old Mer and young lass."
The Nord greeted Runil back with a short guffaw before he replied, "Of course, Runil. I will admit I was surprised when you asked for an escort but considering the way she stumbled up to the gates…"
Lucretia was taken aback by the jovial greeting the Altmer and Nord shared but even more surprised to realize that this guard may have been the one to drag her half-conscious body to Runil's doorstep. "I assume you are the man that ran to help me that night?"
"Aye, and it is a good thing I did. With werewolves about, the entire town guard has been jumpy. Poor Arne–that milkdrinker!–was shivering in his boots at the sight of you and was ready to fill you with arrows first then ask questions." Lucretia was even more relieved by Knud's timely intervention, otherwise she would have had the misfortune of meeting Runil in a different set of circumstances. "Thank you for your continued help, Knud. I look forward to traveling with you to Riverwood."
"Think nothing of it, Lass. I have a daughter who may be about your age, I would appreciate any man–or mer–who would help her in her time of need." Lucretia has been nothing if not fortunate upon arriving in this small town, already so many had helped her when they could have left her to fend for herself. "I brought my horse for you to ride while I guide you further north. The journey will only take a few hours on foot."
When she begins to protest, Runil cuts her off, "I will have to agree with Knud on this, Cassia. You may be healed and rested now but you experienced quite a bit on your way to Falkreath."
"Alright, as you say. One day I will find a way to repay you for everything you've done; remember that, Runil, Knud." Her stubbornness seems to amuse both males as they chuckle at her expense. "Alright, Lass. Up you go," Knud crosses his fingers and forms a step for her to use to mount his horse, "I assume you have some experience riding a horse?"
"While I would believe myself to be a decent enough rider, I have to admit that this will be my first time riding sidesaddle in a dress." Now that she was situated atop the horse, she readjust the ends of the gown to keep her legs covered. "No worries, ol' Dala here is a gentle mare. She can get you to Riverwood with no fear of her throwing you." Knud pats the horse's sturdy neck before pulling out a carrot from his own bag and allowing her to pull it from his hand. Dala seemed content enough, she didn't even budge when Knud helped a stranger onto her back.
"Well since that is settled then, you best head out if you want to make it to Whiterun before the sun sets. Take care of yourself, Cassia." She turns to share a small wave as Knud begins to guide Dala past the gate and down the path that will inevitably lead her deeper into the heart of Skyrim.
The sun was just past the highest point in the sky when Knud and Lucretia made it to the gate of Riverwood. It was charming to say the least, smaller than Falkreath and it did not have the heavy, ominous air hanging over it. There was a sort of tranquil contentment that settled over the village, the bubbling of the river with the churning of the mills, the sound of children playing and a dog barking.
"It's something, isn't it?" Knud chuckled as he helped her down, "Riverwood started a simple mill years ago, the rest grew around it."
"I cannot remember a time when I visited a place so… tranquil." Lucretia absentmindedly ran a hand down Dala's neck as she continued to take in the sight and sounds. 'It's peaceful here.'
"Aye, it is some relief that the war hasn't hit this village yet, but I suppose it could be because Jarl Balgruuf has maintained his neutrality in the civil war." Knud begins to guide her and Dala into the village towards an inn called The Sleeping Giant and loops Dala's rein through the Inn's fence, though the chance of the mare wandering off seems unlikely. "I plan to grab a bite to eat before I turn back, care to join me, Lass?"
"Thank you for the invitation, Knud, but I will need to keep going if I still want to make it to Whiterun by the light of day. I have some rations from Runil I can eat as I walk. It has been a pleasure traveling with you, perhaps I can offer to buy your meal as a way to show my thanks?"
Knud removes his helmet as he laughs, "Keep your septims, Lass. You have family you still need to get to, you can't waste it on an ol' dog like me. I accept your gratitude nonetheless, and I expect you to visit us again. I know Falkreath is depressing but the company is good. How does that sound?"
Lucretia smiles brightly at the man, amusement dancing in her tone, "I will do my best to do that, perhaps with less of a dramatic entrance. Can't scare poor Arne too much or I really will end up as a pincushion."
Knud claps her on the shoulder as he laughs, "That milkdrinker! I don't plan to let him live it down. 'Scared and shaking in his boots by a poor, young lass!' That lad needs to toughen up. Alright, Lass, on you get! Just follow this road, once you cross the bridge you will need to follow the road to the right."
"Safe travels, Knud." Lucretia waves her goodbye as she continues down the stone road, no more than a handful of steps and she is already reaching the edge of the small village and the bridge comes into view. She pauses for a moment to steady herself, glancing back to look for Knud but it seems he had already headed into the inn; a deep breath and setting her eyes forward once more. It was time to go; she had to keep moving, there is no going back.
Her feet ache. Her body is so tired from walking that she feels like a mammoth stomped on her repeatedly before a giant whacked her with his club. Lucretia hadn't realized how unfit she had become once she was settled into her marriage; one that left her to barely roam further than the Imperial City's Market District or the Temple of One. There had been a time when she felt that she traversed all over Cyrodiil when she was but a child. Tagging along with her Grandmother who had partook in higher society and business.
'The world seemed so much bigger back then.'
Her trip from Riverwood to Whiterun was thankfully uneventful, the most excitement she experienced was a Hold Guard wandering past her in patrol. Not that she was complaining about a peaceful trip, she was merely feeling antsy. This was her first real day taking in the sights of a foreign country, the sounds of rabbits and foxes scurrying about in the undergrowth, the occasional deer fleeing at the sight of her. 'It is so beautiful. Perhaps if I cannot stay in Windhelm, I can find a place here.'
As Lucretia made her way past the farms on the outskirts of the city walls, she could make out the magnificence of the Keep towering above all else. Runil was able to fill her in on some aspects of Whiterun before she had left, supposedly the Keep–deftly called Dragonsreach–was used to trap a dragon by a High King in the First Era. Lucretia was quite skeptical of that, seeing how the Keep looks to be made of so much wood. Surely a dragon could not have been caught when it could have set the entire city on fire. 'A child's tale…' One she had no doubt that she would have loved if told by her Grandmother.
When she crosses the bend, she sees a lone horse-drawn carriage near the city's stables, but no driver. Given the early evening sun, it was entirely possible the driver was taking an evening meal at an inn inside the city. Lucretia bypasses the carriage and makes for the stablehand grooming down one of the horses at the stable. "Pardon me, would you know where I might find the carriage driver at this hour?"
The dark-haired Nord turned to her and gave her a once-over look before chuckling. "A gal like you could do with her own horse, I reckon. Got the fleetest steeds in all o' Skyrim"
"Thank you but I cannot afford that type of expense at this moment. The carriage driver?"
"Come now, surely it would be worth-" She cuts him off, "Thank you but no." Lucretia quite disliked this Nord already for pushing when she made her stance clear, all she wanted was to sit down and relax for a few hours while someone else took her to Windhelm.
The Nord scowled at her, "Well fine then. You're out of luck for renting the carriage tonight anyways. Bjorlam is longer willing to head out after sunset. Your best bet would be to find him at the Bannered Mare." She nodded her thanks for this information, "Farewell." He only grunts back before returning to the horse's grooming.
When she arrived at the city gates she inquired from one of the stationed guards for directions to the Bannered Mare and followed the main road towards the market where very few people milled about, considering the hour most had already closed or in the process of closing their stands to head home for the evening meal and to rest.
Following the steps up to the Mare, upon stepping in she was met with the sound of lute and greetings of another woman. "Come on in. Just stoked the fire. Take a seat and get the cold out."
She shares a smile with the woman who spoke and follows her as she moves to stand behind the counter. "Good evening, I was told that I would be able to find the carriage driver, Bjorlam, here. Could you point him out to me?" The older woman smiled at her again, "Of course. The blond Nord right here"–she gestures towards one of the men sitting near the fire–"is the one you're looking for. Should you need anything, my name is Hulda and my girl there"–this time gesturing towards a Redguard woman–"is Saadia."
"Thank you, Hulda." Lucretia approached the driver who already seemed well into his cup. "Good evening, Bjorlam." She waited until his gaze to settle on her, but his glazed look left her unconvinced that he would remember this conversation. "I was looking to hire your carriage."
The drunk Nord abruptly bellowed a laugh as he raised his mug for no seemingly apparent reason, "Ain't goin' nowhere tonight." He laughed again before he hiccuped and dove back into his mug.
"You're better off waiting until morning to speak to that lout about traveling." The Redguard woman, Saadia, responds as she moves closer to her. "You want a drink?"
"I would be more interested in a meal." Saadia crossed her arms, seemingly unhappy to be speaking with her. "We have cooked venison or grilled salmon with a side of leeks and potatoes."
"Venison with potatoes, please." Lucretia paid for her meal and moved to sit back at the counter to speak with Hulda about renting a room for the night.
After all was said and done, she inquired about the city's temple and was pleased to learn that their temple was dedicated to Kynareth, the goddess that her family has paid homage to for generations. Cyrodiil had no official chapel to the goddess as it is believed that all of nature is her shrine, something her Honored Grandmother agreed with and in Lucretia's youth, they gave their morning prayers on a hill overlooking Battlehorn Castle.
For the years she spent trapped in the Imperial City, praying at the Temple of the One brought her a small measure of peace. While Akatosh was not her or her family's preferred god to worship, there was something awe-inspiring to pray before the avatar of Akatosh that rose up against the Daedric prince, Mehrunes Dagon. Grandmother had been convinced that it was the embodiment of the last Septim Emperor, Martin, but no proof was ever put forth so Lucretia remained unconvinced; not that she told her Grandmother that for fear of the lecture she would get.
With a room rented, Lucretia turns in for the night in order to rest her still-aching feet. She will have to rise early enough to pray at the Temple before heading out to look for Bjorlam again. Given how drunk he was earlier, she imagines he won't be heading out too early.
Lucretia rose with the sun, stretching the weariness from her body and washed the sleep from her face with the basin nearby. What little of her belongings she had left had been kept safely tucked into her pack and the belted tunic was simple to pull on over her chemise before wrapping herself in her cloak. Giving the room a once-over to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything, she heads into the main room to purchase an apple and some cheese to break her fast.
She gives Hulda and Saadia–though the Redguard woman silently frowned after her–a farewell before heading out towards the market then following the steps up. When she makes it to the next landing, her eyes are drawn to a Nord wearing a monk robe sweeping near the entrance to a rather large building, which surprised her considering the view that most have on Divine Kynareth. "Good morning. Is the Temple of Kynareth open to visitors?" It was obvious but out of politeness she spoke.
Her voice seems to have startled him, causing him to drop his broom as he jerks around to look at her, eyes still heavy with sleep or the lack of it. "Ah, pardon me! Yes, it is…" his words momentarily died off before he caught himself and continued, "the Temple dedicated to Divine Kynareth is open. We have a shrine inside and Priestess Danica will be available should you require healing."
Lucretia feels a measure of sympathy for the obviously sleep-deprived man and picks up his broom for him. "Thank you. I will head inside to offer my prayers." She smiled as she handed it back to him, turning away before she could see the color blossom over his face.
Less than an hour later, Lucretia felt lighter. She felt steadier in her resolve, a peace she had not felt in years washed over her.
Her prayers before the shrine of Kynareth had only been broken by the quiet sounds of Priestess Danica and a Redguard woman tending to the few wounded and sick present. When her prayers were concluded, Lucretia sought out the priestess to offer a small donation to the Temple before slipping out to head for the stables. The streets had become more lively in the light of the morning; the market district was bustling with loud children, merchants calling to their wares, and guards patrolling. It was as refreshing as Riverwood had been and she allowed herself to daydream of being a resident here–daily prayers in the Temple of Kynareth, perhaps a job on one of the farms or in the tavern, perhaps she would remarry one day... 'Perhaps I would have children running through the market.' An ache blooms in her chest and Lucretia wills away all thoughts of settling down here. She cannot allow herself to fall down that rabbit hole again, she first has to worry about making her way to Windhelm and finding her Aunt Naalia. Then she will worry about what comes next.
The trip to Windhelm was spent mostly in silence as Bjorlam bemoaned his aching heading, but she felt no sympathy for this man who knew the consequences of losing himself in the bottom of a tankard. Lucretia isn't opposed to a bottle of mead with dinner or a glass of wine before bed, what she does oppose is how good people can seemingly turn into the worst of monsters when they drank too much. She has been on the receiving end far too often to condone willingly losing oneself to alcohol.
During the bumpy ride, she spent her time re-reading the letters from her aunt. Just over a year has passed since her last letter and Lucretia has to wonder if her husband had a hand in that as well. With the eyes of a guard on her at all times, she couldn't guarantee that even her letters were being successfully delivered outside of the Imperial City.
Due to the age gap between her father and his youngest sister, Lucretia was only seven years Naalia's junior. A month after her thirteenth name-day and a year into her training in the arcane arts, her aunt made the journey to visit Cyrodiil with her year-old son and her Imperial husband. Grandmother had offered to support them until they could settle in, should they choose to remain. Though they had refused, they had promised future visits and to write letters.
No more visits followed when Naalia's husband had been killed in the following year but the amount of letters became staggering in her need for comfort, even from a niece many leagues away. Lucretia had begged her Grandmother to send a host of Romulius guards to bring Naalia and her son back to Cyrodiil. Regardless of how her Grandmother explained why she couldn't send such a force into another city, much less another country without invoking someone's ire, Lucretia cried for weeks and had become despondent.
Gradually her mood improved with the continuation of Naalia's letters and the reassurance she gave the younger girl as to why she wasn't willing to leave Windhelm, perhaps when her son was older and was willing to make the journey south. As the years passed by, Lucretia thought less of Naalia as her aunt and more as an older sister. She shared with her all the details of her life as she grew older, baring her heart and eventually sharing in their grief when Grandmother had been killed and Valerius being sent away, the stillbirth of Lucretia's own son and her husband's abuse that came after. The following year, the letters began to slow and by the next, they had completely ceased.
A rather nasty bump sent a few of the letters sliding from her lap to the floor of the carriage bed, as she moved to collect them she considered what she would do if she was unwelcomed in Windhelm. She was, after all, more Imperial than Nord.
She was reminded often throughout her childhood that she looked just like her mother; she had her mother's smaller, softer Imperial appearance while Valerius–though he was her younger twin–was so much broader and taller than her as the crown of her head only reached his chin. When they had been children, they used to sneak into what had once been their parents' suite at Battlehorn Castle to stare for hours at a portrait hung above the mantle, painted to their likeness on their wedding day, according to Grandmother when she found them asleep in the room. Her mother was gorgeous with her gold curls framing her face, her wedding dress was simple for a noblewoman of her stature. Her father was also quite handsome with straight, pale blond hair that reached his shoulders; he had worn a set of ceremonial Legion armor decorated with red and detailed in gold.
According to her Grandmother, their father took their mother's name after they married. Something about a family conflict that she didn't go into detail about, but Valerius had speculated that their family in Skyrim did not look favorably on his choosing an Imperial bride over a Nord one. That could be another reason for her to be looked down upon by traveling to Windhelm, especially if she tried to use her father's name to gain leverage within the city. By questioning that tidbit, Lucretia now began to wonder after her aunt and her Imperial husband.
'If father's family did not agree to his marriage to an Imperial Noblewoman, perhaps that is why he never went back and why he chose to forsake his family name.' Lucretia felt uneasy crept in with where her thoughts were going, 'What does that mean for Naalia when she married Antonius, who was a wealthy merchant's son but still Imperial? If they faced such hardships and family neglect there, why did they choose not to stay with them when Grandmother offered her assistance? She had to have known what they were facing. Was his death really an accident?' Looking back on the first letters she received from Naalia following his death, she wondered if she knew the truth but could never put it in writing the same way when she wrote about how she suspected her husband's hand in her Grandmother's untimely death.
Lucretia's unease deepened, she had planned for the ire of the pro-Stormcloak Nords but she had not considered the possibility that her father's family would be against her sudden appearance. After all, no contact was made on eithers' part so how could she expect anyone besides Naalia to welcome her with open arms. There was nothing she could do at this point but bounce with the bumps in the road–quite literally–and keep going, regardless of what happens.
Her Nordic blood did nothing for her as the frigid winds bit into her face and past the meager clothes she wore. Thankfully the ancient city of Windhelm was in sight, though it too looked cold and unwelcoming. Pulling her cloak tighter, Lucretia watched as a pair of guards stepped forth and waited for the carriage to pull near the stable, their eyes never left her and their hands stayed on the hilt of their swords.
"Evening, gentleman!" Bjorlam greeted and he hopped down from the front of the carriage and made his way to the back and offered his hand to Lucretia. Either he was ignorant to the barely concealed hostility or he doesn't care.
One guard stepped closer. "What is your business here, Imperial?"
Lucretia cleared her throat, nervousness had already made her cold palms sweat uncomfortably. "I am seeking kin that lives here in the city."
She imagined he was eyeing her warily but his face was obscured by his helmet. "Not many Imperials live in Windhelm, who are you looking for? Perhaps that Imperial who fancies himself an author, Leotelli?"
"Ah, no. I do not know who that is. I am looking for Naalia Oak-Shield."
He grunts, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Perhaps you should make an appointment with the steward."
She numbly nodded her head, feeling closed off and knowing nothing she said or asked would likely help her here. "Thank you for your help. Where might I find an inn for the night?"
"Candlehearth Hall is directly inside the main gates of the city. But remember Imperial, you will be watched. Can't have Imperial spies run around unchecked."
With a weary nod, Lucretia heads across the long stone bridge clutching her bag to her chest with one arm and attempting to keep her cloak tucked firmly around her as the bitter cold winds bite into her skin. The gate to the city was colossal, hurting her neck as she craned her head back to look up towards the top. Had the weather been warm and pleasant, she would have liked to spend more time admiring the complex designs from the Merethic Era
Just as the guard said, the inn was only a few icy steps into the city. The heat of the inn hurt almost as much as the cold outside. Although a warm voice welcomed her. "Greetings! This here's Candlehearth Hall. Great room's upstairs, an' there's a bed for rent on the ground floor. Now what can I get for you?"
Feeling uncomfortable already, she doesn't stand on ceremony and gets straight to it. "Greetings, I would like to rent a room and bath." Holding out her hand with gold for the innkeeper to claim.
"Sure thing. It's yours for a day. I'll show you to your room. It's right this way. I'll have Susanna fill the tub for you. Let me know if there's anything else you need."
With thanks to the innkeeper who introduced herself as Elda Early-Dawn, Lucretia settles her bag on the bed and removes her heavy, fur-lined cloak. A rush of cooler air relieves the discomfort from the building sweat. A handful of minutes later, a light knocking brings her attention back to the door, "Yes?"
A pretty young woman with a very low cut neckline opens the door, "Good day, I have some water for your bath. I will have to make another trip to top it off."
"Oh, yes. Please come in…" Lucretia's eyes have a hard time focusing when the woman bends over and her breasts practically fall out of her dress. She looks away as blood rushes to her face in embarrassment.
The other woman catches her embarrassment and chortles, "My name is Susanna." She lifts one of the two pails brimming with water and empties it into the copper tub, quickly followed by the second. "I'll be right back!" She briskly strolls out without waiting for a reply.
Once the door closes behind her, Lucretia settles into a chair to remove her thick boots and wool socks. Her feet had been kept warm but were raw from the constant chafing in her new boots. She will have to get used to this harder life, this is barely the tip of the snowcap.
Another knock echoes into the small room, followed by Susanna waltzing in with the rest of her bath water. After she finishes pouring in the water, she meets Lucretia's eye with a flirtatious grin, "Now if you need anything else, do not hesitate to ask."
Ears burning, Lucretia coughs out an affirmative while avoiding Susanna's suggestive gaze. 'This woman is so audacious!' She chortles again as she leaves, once the door clicks closed Lucretia ensures to lock it. The last thing she needs is to be caught off-guard while naked in the tub.
She goes about heating the water with her simple flames spell before she settles in. Without wasting much time, she cleans herself as the meager bath will allow, before getting out and donning a simple green dress with a thin brown shawl over her shoulders. A pang in her stomach followed by a groan was enough reason to allow the noise of patrons and smell of food to lead her to the open sitting area of the inn where she took a seat at the bar.
"Can I get you some food or mead, dear?" Susanna approached with a bottle already in hand.
"Both, thank you. And please, just call me Cassia." She reaches out to accept the mead but forgoes drinking it until she has at least eaten.
"So what brings you to Windhelm, Cassia? Surely it cannot be the atrocious weather."
"My brother and I were making the journey to meet with family, sadly we were separated. I pushed on ahead and hopefully he will meet me in the city."
"I am sorry to hear that. I pray Talos guides him here safely. What family might you be looking for?" Before Lucretia could answer, Susanna stepped forward with a hot bowl of horker stew and a plate with cheese and bread. "Thank you, Susanna."
"As for my family, I am here to meet with Naalia Oak-Shield. She is my Father's younger sister."
"Oh dear." Elda looked as though she sucked on a lemon. "This is going to be hard news, dear."
The heavy atmosphere startles her, she meets Elda's solemn expression with one of worry, voice hushed, "What? Did something happen?"
"Naalia's husband, he died about nine years ago leaving her a young widow with an even younger son. But Naalia herself died of fever early last Sun's Dawn. Her son, Aventus, was sent away to the Honorhall Orphanage in Riften."
'That was nearly a year ago!' Lucretia sets down her spoon as her hands begin to shake.
"Sent away?" All pangs of hunger fled to make way for anger, "Why was he not sent to live with next of kin? He still has family in the city, surely Clan Oak-Shield—or even his grandmother's family, Clan Shatter-Shield—would not abandon a child?"
"Dear, what are you talking about? The boy's father was an Imperial, he is an Aretino. Naalia was young but she went against the Clan by marrying an Imperial and was cast out from them."
'Spiteful! They would forsake a child for bitterness to a perceived slight from the dead.' This also confirmed her father's situation, and hers as well. What was left of her father's family had no love for Aventus nor her and it didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. The downside would be not being able to be hidden in plain sight with an established and prominent Nord family safely tucked away in what would be considered enemy territory.
"That is preposterous, who can I speak to in order to get him back home?" Conviction and anger ruled her decisions right now, she was not sure how she was going to manage herself let alone her young cousin but she would be damned to Oblivion if she left him alone in an orphanage.
Elda seemed taken aback by her attitude, momentarily staring before Susanna cut in to offer the needed information. "You should speak with Jorleif. He's Jarl Ulfric's steward. He would have been the one to arrange for Aventus to be taken to Riften."
"Thank you." Quickly finishing her meal even though it now tasted sour and sat heavy in her stomach, Lucretia hurried back to her room to replace her thin shaw with her heavier cloak and her soft shoes with her boots.