Chapter 7: Whiterun

Marz stood in silence while Rikke spoke to the jarl of Whiterun on his throne. Though he looked at the jarl throughout the exchange, he felt Irileth's eyes on him the whole time. He had not seen her since right after she had been appointed as Jarl Balgruuf's housecarl. He was vaguely aware of Rikke explaining his presence to the jarl, but he was too preoccupied with the past in his mind's eye to pay attention.

He had already marked Irileth and against the code of Malacath, had decided that he had wanted her as his shieldwife. Sure there were parts of Tamriel where his kind and hers were enemies, but in Skyrim they were both outcasts. Even more than that she was a fierce warrior. The kind of woman he always wanted at his side. But it was that that had been their undoing. Right before he could ask her to leave Whiterun and join him in creating their own stronghold, the jarl had named her his personal housecarl, which she had accepted much to Marz' chagrin.

Irileth had always been a mer that valued honor and duty to others. It was an admirable quality, but one that had killed any hope of something permanent between them. Marz was sure that Malacath had punished him for going against the natural order. "Well then," Jarl Balgruuf's voice boomed. "By Legate Rikke's own tongue you have earned a substantial reward for your services, orismer. I hope a payment in the amount of 500 gold coins will be enough to thank you for it. Tell me, what is your name that I might thank you properly?"

Marz and Rikke both opened their mouths to speak, but the next one to be heard was Irileth. "Marzuum Gro-Narzul, my jarl," she said. Rikke momentarily looked shocked that Irileth knew his name before she was able to hide the expression. "He is an orsimer of renowned strength, and ferocity. You would be lucky to have him in your city guard." And there it was. Though Irileth's face remained impassive, Marz knew she was trying to give them a chance to start anew. The jarl whistled appreciatively. "Coming from Irileth that is high praise, Marzool–"

"Marz is fine jarl," the orc responded. The jarl nodded. "If you are interested, you have but to say the word and the position is yours." Marz looked around saw everyone staring at him, waiting for an answer. He knew at least one who would be disappointed. "You are generous, Jarl Balgruuf. But I'm afraid I must decline. I enjoy my freedom as a traveler, and seek to create my own stronghold eventually. I cannot do this sworn to another." He said this last part while looking at Irileth and he saw the features tighten on her face in anger and frustration.

Jarl Balgruuf shrugged. "The offer stands Marz. Why don't you stay the night in Whiterun and think on it? I shall have your gold in the morning, and you may stay or depart as you wish." Marz nodded. "That is acceptable. Thank you, jarl." Jarl Balgruuf nodded, "Now then, Rikke and I have business to discuss. Irileth, why don't you escort our orsimer guest to the Bannered Mare so that he may eat and bathe? Rikke, I shall meet you upstairs." With that, the jarl and his proventus disappeared to the second floor of Dragonsreach.

Rikke turned to face him. "I just wanted to say–" But whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by Irileth. "Rikke. That was quite the tale you shared. The empire was indeed fortunate not to lose one of their finest."

Rikke looked the housecarl in the face, and inclined her head slightly. "Fortunate indeed, but I thank you for your concern."

Irileth continued to hold her gaze. "I am curious, tell me legate, if your friend here is such a good protector, how have you come to look so roughly handled? You look as if your stallion bucked you right off its back."

Rikke met Irileth's stare with the smallest hint of a smile, and took a step closer to the housecarl. "As a matter of fact, my stallion was a bit harder to handle than I thought he would be. But rest assured, no matter how hard he bucked over and over again, I rode him all through the night."

The housecarl's eyes glowed with barely contained loathing. "I thought the two of you traveled only by day? Or did I mishear, legate?"

The nord met her eyes without fear. "You heard correctly housecarl," she said quietly with a smile.

The two women stared at each other, and something passed between them, though Marz was unsure of what it was. Then, Rikke looked at him again, "I thank you for your assistance Marz. I hope our paths cross again, whether by light of day," she looked now at Irileth. "Or by shadow of night." With that, the nord followed the jarl's footsteps to the second floor, leaving Marz alone with the fuming dunmer.

*

Marz had donned his cloak after leaving Dragonsreach, though the garment had done nothing to hide his massive frame. Citizens still glanced his way when he passed but he was glad he at least wasn't drawing stares. Whiterun was a smaller town, that he had not been to in many years, so he was unsure about how one of his kind might be received. As such, he wanted to keep as low a profile as one of his size could. The Bannered Mare was mostly empty when Marz entered, which he was grateful for. A large warrior in a horned helmet, eyed him up and down before a beautiful Redguard woman in a serving outfit distracted him with another mug.

Marz walked to the counter, taking care to keep the hood low over his face and asked the innkeeper, Hulda, for a room for the night. "I assume you want as much distance from this crowd as possible?" She asked. Marz nodded. Hulda called for the Redguard woman, Saadia, and had her prepare one of the upstairs rooms for him. Marz ignored the drunk at the counter who was trying to challenge him to a drinking contest, "Don't mind Sam," Hulda said. "He's always trying to find a taker to drink against. I don't think he even knows who's talking to if you take my meaning."

Marz grunted in agreement, he had yet to meet the human who could outdrink him. As more people started coming in to the tavern, Marz retreated to the table furthest from the door, on the otherside of the firepit, to wait for his room. Hulda brought him a mug of Honningbrew Mead while he waited. A bard began playing a lute, and soon there was plenty of dancing and laughing around the firepit in the center of the room. Marz was so distracted that he missed the warrior who approached him until it was too late.

"I think you're in my seat friend."

Marz growled softly, and turned his head slightly sideways to look at his potential challenger. He saw a tall nord woman, beautiful but with a stern face in heavy steel armor, with a large two-handed sword on her back. Marz scoffed at her. "There's an open seat right there, friend." He said, before drinking from his mug.

The nord knocked it from his hand. "I got no quarrel with you, but I won't turn one down neither." She said. "Now get out of my seat." She kicked the chair on the last word.

Marz could feel his blood begin to boil and he took a breath. Justified or not, if he killed a nord, especially a woman nord, over something so trivial, he would never be able to return to Whiterun–if he could even leave at all. Although right now even that was beginning to look worth the trouble. Thankfully before he could say anything, the innkeeper Hulda approached. "Your room is ready sir. Its the stairs just behind that wall there." She pointed to the wall directly across from where he sat. Marz nodded and stood up. The nord was shorter than he was, but taller still than Rikke had been. "My room is ready anyways," he said gruffly. He stalked past the warrior, taking care to bump the her shoulder as he passed. "Yeah keep walkin soft-gut. I'm more woman than you can handle."

The orc stopped and turned to face the nord. "What you think you can go blade to blade with me? You'd be dead in six seconds!" She boasted loudly. He took a a few steps closer to the warrior so that she could see his tusks beneath his hood. Hulda quickly stepped between them, and in a low voice said "Uthgerd, I don't think this is a fight you want to pick." The woman Uthgerd never even looked at Hulda. "A true nord never misses a chance to test her worth. I fear no man." She stepped around Hulda so that she was face to face with Marz. "Or orc. I challenge you orsimer!"

Marz was done playing the peacemaker. He growled in agreement. "Not in here!" Hulda said loudly. "Take it outside, or I shall call the guard!" Without hesitation, Uthgerd strode towards the door. Marz followed. Outside of the inn it was already dark. A few guards were circling the marketplace, so Uthgerd led him towards the entrance of Whiterun, and then took the path up the stairs just past the Drunken Huntsman Tavern. At the top of the stairs she took a right, and the two of them found themselves in a deserted area between two houses.

"Alright orc," Uthgerd said. "You are about to face Uthgerd the Unbroken, a true nord woman. No weapons, no magic, just fists." She leaned her sword against one of the buildings and removed her steel gauntlets. Marz removed his cloak, and tossed it close to the wall. Uthgerd eyed him up and down.

"Keep those on," he said. "You'll need them."

Uthgerd grinned, "Confident are you? Very well then how about a wager? 100 coins to the winner."

Marz shook his head. "You challenged me as an orsimer would, so if you lose, you shall pay an orsimer's price. We do not pay our debts in coin, only blood and honor. So if you lose to me here, tonight, you shall owe me a debt of blood. That, shall be the price you must pay."

Uthgerd raised her fists, "Fine," she said. "But I want my payment in coin." With a loud cry she swung at him. Marz hadn't even raised his fists yet, so the blow caught him in the jaw. His head snapped to the right, following the blow. He cracked his neck in response and raised his fists.

She swung again. Marz blocked the blow and struck her across the face with an open hand. Uthgerd looked furious. "Do not fight like a woman orc! Strike me as you would a man!"

Marz obliged her. Uthgerd ran at him, and ducked under her blow before striking her with a closed fist under her chin, and then a left punch to the face. As the nord stumbled backwards, Marz kicked her forcefully in the stomach, and she fell backwards to the ground. "Pathetic," the orc said. "If hadn't met a stronger nord woman before today, I'd think all were this weak." He sneered.

Uthgerd rose to her feet. Again, and again she came at him, and again and again he sent her spinning back to the ground. The nord might be a good fistfighter against male nords, but against a fully grown male orc she stood no chance. Marz had been trying to minimize the damage done to her, but the nord just wouldn't give up. She had several cuts on her face, and a black eye. Most of his blows had been aimed at her torso, so despite the armor, he knew she sported at least a few bruises underneath.

Still, Marz was tired and knew it was time to end the brawl. When next she ran at him, he hit her once, twice, then grabbed her arm, and twisted, sending her flying over his shoulder. Uthgerd hit the ground, groaned, and did not move. Once he'd checked to make sure she was still breathing, he retrieved his cloak, and began his walk back to the Bannered Mare.