Chapter L – Call of the Wild

In the end, it turned out that the dragon attack had worse consequences than they knew at first.

Not only were the guard forces yet again diminished, but the dragons managed to destroy the stables too and kill the residents. This time nobody was warned. And the stables had the misfortune of lacking the sturdy Dwemer construction the city had. The hut was completely burned down, along with the horses and carriages.

It was unfortunate for multiple reasons. Aeyrin and Bishop were planning on hitching a ride to Dawnstar to see the blacksmith for their piece of silver. But that was no longer possible. It was not a big deal, considering the fact that lives were lost. But it was still an annoyance.

After they managed to pull themselves together, dry their clothes, wash up and rest a bit, they visited Calcelmo again and Aeyrin explained the absorptions to him. He was fascinated. For a moment. The rest of the evening was spent listening to him gush about Nchuand-Zel and the amazing treasure he brought back.

Fortunately, that was all that happened. Markarth remained completely bare in its streets and people were no longer in the mood to celebrate after the second threat they faced. But they were alive. More than they could have hoped for, if it weren't for Calcelmo.

There was no more use in lingering in the city though.

After another night, Bishop and Aeyrin headed out and towards Dawnstar. Their journey would be long, but there was no rush. Right now, both of them just wanted to enjoy some time in the wilderness.

It's been exhausting. They hadn't stopped watching their backs since they were in Solitude. Those nobles, the assassin, then the Silver-Bloods, Forsworn and now the dragons. Was it too much to ask to have a bit of peace for a while?

Maybe for once, the wilderness would provide that.

They just had to be careful again. But they were used to that.

They traveled across the hills of the Reach after lunch the next day and they settled below an abandoned lone Dwemer tower. The tower and the cliffs provided a nice shelter for them. And while they could have slept inside – it was empty, they checked – they were both eager to get away from the stone slabs and anything even resembling Markarth.

Besides, there was an Orcish stronghold nearby. It was likely that bandits and such didn't come very near it. Assassins probably didn't care, but the two of them were somewhat hopeful that they had no idea about the Argonian's death yet. More precisely about what exactly happened to him. Maybe they would be scrambling for a bit, trying to find their missing Brother. Or maybe they would get intimidated? No, that was probably naïve.

But regardless, the two of them refused to let anything deter them from enjoying the fresh air and the peaceful quiet. Sure, they could have traveled further north, but this place was so nice, they just wanted to stay for a while.

It was a very pleasant evening. They spent it together by the fire, doing nothing but talking and relaxing and cooking.

But they should have gotten used to this.

Nothing ever seemed to remain peaceful and easy in their lives. And soon, they heard a noise disturbingly close to their camp.

It was an odd noise. Like knocking on stone. They were hidden in their trapped camp behind the tower, with a gorgeous view right in front of them, including the still standing Markarth, albeit with empty streets and battlements. But it sounded like the noise came from the other side of the tower, towards its entrance.

They had checked the tower meticulously – there was nothing there, including any holes which automatons could spring from. So what was this?

"Hello?"

Suddenly a familiar soft voice rang from the other side of the tower. Bishop and Aeyrin shared a surprised look, though Bishop's bore much more suspicion than hers. They couldn't see their visitor, but they only needed to hear him to know who he was.

"Things went a little… sour. But we're just here to talk, my sparrow. Can you please remove those traps? We can see them," Cael spoke carefully, as if he expected an answer in the negative.

Was it any wonder after what happened? Aeyrin didn't exactly blame Cael. Things were still a little too grey for her to blame anyone. Well… she could always blame the Silver-Bloods. All of this was mostly their doing. But she could understand the Forsworn reasons. She could also feel like they should be invalid when it came to the lives of innocent people who were never involved in the conflict at all. But that was all too confusing. Maybe talking to Cael would help get some closure here.

"Who the fuck is 'we'?" Bishop snarled promptly. Did the barbarian sneak his whole clan towards the tower? Maybe they shouldn't have hidden behind it like that – they were hidden from view there nicely, aside from anyone who might be climbing on another nearby cliff, but they were hidden from the roads. But that also meant that they couldn't see anyone approaching from the other side of the tower either.

"Me, Robin and Anu. Our scouts saw you leave Markarth and we wanted to… talk," Cael sighed. "Can we, sparrow?"

"You're still going near Markarth after the way the wizard kicked your ass?" Bishop chuckled meanly, again answering instead of Aeyrin. Then again, she didn't look like she wanted to speak anyway.

"We know how to stay hidden," Robin's voice rang from behind the tower with a scoff. "We wanted to see what happened after that mess."

"We saw the dragon attack," Cael sighed.

Aeyrin only gave Bishop a subtle nod. What was the point in keeping them out there behind the tower? She knew they were not going to attack. At least she hoped. Maybe it was naïve. She barely knew them all and they were kind of bloodthirsty during the attack. But… they had their reasons. Their cause. Was it really that odd to believe them now?

Bishop let out a resigned sigh, but he got up and moved to disarm one of the traps so that the Forsworn could join them by the fire. He was sure he would never be able to take his hand off the hilt of his knife while they were near, but it was probably pointless to keep yelling at them from across the plateau.

"Left trap's gone," he merely grunted when the job was done. He went back to Aeyrin promptly and sat himself down next to her again.

Soon enough, the trio emerged. They looked a little different. For one, they all had some cuts and scratches visible on their exposed skin. It was clear that they were hurt during the assault. Likely by the automatons in their escape. And Cael's hair was shorter again and the braids were gone. It looked more like it had been chopped off haphazardly though. And the amount of bruises on all of them was hard to ignore.

"Someone had fun storming the city," Bishop smirked at them smugly. What? They had it coming. Sure, the Silver-Bloods were fucking dicks and the prison revolt was a good thing, but not the bullshit after. Not trying to take the city. If they only made their escape and killed anyone that tried to stop them, it would have been understandable, but they went in trying to butcher whoever was 'on their land' as if that shit even mattered.

Robin let out a hateful snarl at Bishop's comment, but Cael quickly raised his hand as if to calm her down.

"It was… unexpected. I don't think anyone expected that to happen," Cael sighed. "There was no winning against those things and we had to retreat. Now, even after what we saw with the dragon, I suppose Markarth is always going to be lost to us."

He gestured gently towards the ground and all three of them sat down by the fire, opposite Bishop and Aeyrin. They did all look… defeated.

"Why do you even want it?" Bishop scoffed. "Aren't you adapted to living in the wilderness? What do you expect everyone to do in that place if you take it. And how do you even expect all those clans that were at war with each other to agree who stays in that city."

"You make some valid points, Nord. Unfortunately. I've been thinking about these things myself after that day," Cael stared into the fire somberly. "We thrive in our village and we don't need stone walls to protect us. But… when someone takes something from you, something that's rightfully yours, isn't it your duty to get it back?"

"You just keep losing your lives over this. For something you only want out of principle," Aeyrin shook her head. She got the principle. But Bishop was right – how would it all even work? Would the Forsworn really adapt to living in the city? Would they be able to work together in its walls?

"Aye. It's true," Cael's eyes remained downcast. Even regretful. "We've lost ten of our people in the attack. And for what? It was not worth it. We didn't even make a dent. We slaughtered their guards, took down all of their defenses, only to find out they had something much worse up their sleeves. That knowledge doesn't help us. Markarth had been a distant dream before so many of our people got taken into the mines. Before Madanach started to plan. But then it suddenly all seemed within reach. We got careless when it was in our sights. And our own people paid for it."

"Not just your people. The guards paid for it too. There were some civilian lives lost too. And why do you think the dragons attacked?" Aeyrin scoffed at him a little disdainfully. He really didn't regret the damage they had done at all? Not just to themselves, but to others too.

"You're saying the dragons were our fault somehow?" Anu scowled at her promptly. When he wasn't smiling at her, he really looked very intimidating.

"Of course they were," Bishop growled. "Why do you think they attacked? They must have seen the state you left Markarth in – empty and vulnerable. Maybe they didn't know about the automatons, but they sure as fuck knew that the city had no more fighting men in it. That's what those things do – they pick off easy targets so that they don't get killed but can kill as many as possible instead."

"I suppose it makes sense," Cael sighed. "It hardly matters now. Both sides lost much. Our hope for retaking the city is lost, along with too many lives. And Madanach is dead too."

Bishop and Aeyrin merely shared a brief look at the mention. The Forsworn still had no idea Bishop killed their king. Only the two of them and Igmund knew that little fact. And that guard working with the Silver-Bloods too. And the prisoners. Huh. That was more people than Bishop had previously realized. But still, Igmund would not let this mess resurface, right?

"Who was he to you? Was he really your king?" Aeyrin asked curiously. She never heard them speak of anyone but Cael 'ruling' them.

"He was… well, he was more of a self-proclaimed king. He was… Madanach," Cael shrugged as if he had no need to explain it further. "He spoke with passion, his clan never warred against any other – they always reminded us that we're not enemies. That we need to focus on our real enemies. He traded with all the clans, helped us all thrive this way when we were too proud to ask for help from another tribe because we had a bloody history with them. He was there to negotiate and keep peace when he could. And then he got arrested."

"Everyone began talking about how he struck deals with Silver-Bloods for his life and the clans… well… the reactions weren't pretty," Anu sighed. "The alliances that were made in his name broke and everyone was at each other's throats more than ever."

"It was as if the Nords could sense the weakness," Cael shook his head with a deep frown on his face. "You saw our people being hauled into the mines by scores – that was a usual occurrence for years on end. And then, as we were losing people left and right, both to wars and to the mine, we started to receive messages from Madanach. Messages about his plans and the revolt."

"'Years'? You talk like you went through it all. How old are you?" Bishop smirked at Cael. When he listened to him, he could have sworn he was listening to some old geezer like Esbern, lecturing about history. But he looked so young. Bretons did often look young in the face, but not like this.

"My age doesn't matter," Cael grumbled. "I've been a chieftain for five years and we are never only what we experience. We are the tales of our mothers and fathers, experiences we made little sense of when we were young, those are all part of us. Age has nothing to do with what I know of myself and my people."

"I sure as fuck hope the bullshit of my mother and father aren't part of me," Bishop mumbled quietly, mostly to himself.

There was a moment of silence for a spell. But then Aeyrin finally asked the question that had been burning on her mind for a while. She really didn't think these three meant them any harm, but the way things ended in Markarth left her… uncertain. She didn't like how Anu and Cael behaved during the assault, that was for certain. But she was pretty sure they took the fact that she and Bishop ran to Calcelmo the first chance they got even more poorly.

"So… you're not feeling vengeful about what happened in the Keep, right?" She tried to chuckle to play it off as a joke in a way, but she was really serious about that question. They didn't seem upset, but they didn't seem like people who would take part in that assault when she had met them for the first time either.

"It's not like you wanted to be involved in the first place," Cael sighed. "Anu wrote to me from the mine when you were arrested and he told me you were there. I know what you're capable of, my sparrow. I've seen it all before," he smiled softly. He spoke so reverently about it, about her powers. She knew he was referring to the battle at Karthspire when she practically drowned an entire Forsworn tribe in the river. She didn't like remembering this. But Cael saw it as something to be wistful about, apparently. "And what you did for us with that noblewoman's atrocities… I just hoped that if Anu helped you, you would be willing to help us. I hoped you still understood our cause."

"I do understand it," Aeyrin gave him a morose look. "That doesn't mean I agree with your methods."

"I know," he nodded in accord. "When you talked so fondly about that mage… even I started to have doubts. I knew that some of the others would want to take it as far as we could, slaughter whomever we could. It was… acceptable. It's always been when it comes to diminishing the stranglehold the Nords have on our home. But maybe in some cases… well… not every Nord is at fault. Not every citizen of Markarth either."

There was silence again. Anu had the same expression on his face as Cael did, but Robin seemed on the verge of rolling her eyes at them exaggeratedly. She almost looked like she was pouting about their remorse.

"How are you so effortlessly convincing, my sparrow?" Cael finally chuckled a bit and finally looked from the fire and into Aeyrin's eyes. She could always see a measure of fascination in his in turn. And she still remembered that she felt exactly that about him too when they met. But now it all seemed… muddied.

"I could ask you the same thing," she sighed and she couldn't help but hide the disappointment from her voice. "I was convinced you wouldn't be someone to take part in this."

"You've seen us slaughter Nords every time we met," Robin scoffed at her.

"The Silver-Blood's goons who attacked me and people holding your mages hostage for some experiments," Aeyrin scowled back at her. "Not people hiding in their homes while they're being invaded."

"We didn't kill the civilians," Anu noted defensively.

"No? Not the servants of the Silver-Bloods? You think that treasury was filled with their evil collaborators? They owned the whole city. Nobody had a choice in the fact that they worked for them," Aeyrin retorted instantly. That was Cael's clan. They were the ones killing every single person in the treasury, no matter who they were.

"Isn't that exactly the point? They always have a choice," Robin argued. "They could have left our land in the first place. Nobody had to stay in that city and work for them. They were all helping our enemies in one way or another. The whole damn city was just enabling those assholes on and on. And don't tell me you're disappointed to see them gone."

"The Silver-Bloods? No, of course I'm glad they're gone," Aeyrin sighed. "But you could have let those other people run."

"And wait until they take over after the Silver-Bloods and do the same thing all over again?" Robin rolled her eyes.

"Maybe it's all not that simple," Cael interrupted. "We have… different perspectives. Let us leave it at that. I understand why you chose the mage, my sparrow. I don't blame you. And I'm glad you made that choice and stayed safe under his guard."

More silence reigned in the area for a while. It always felt a little tense, even though Aeyrin believed Cael and trusted that he didn't hold a grudge. If anything, he seemed to regret the attack more than that.

"How'd you get away?" Bishop broke the silence at last. Sure, running from automatons wasn't too difficult. They were somewhat slow and didn't do stairs very well. That was an advantage for anyone running through Markarth. But after what they'd seen with the ballistas… or ballistae or whatever, it was hard to believe that anyone made it out alive.

Then again, Calcelmo didn't pull out those nasty shits against the Forsworn.

"You were hoping we would all die in there, weren't you, Nord?" Cael smirked at him disdainfully.

"And why the fuck not? Your 'people' attack us on sight most of the time on the road. You expect me to be sympathetic?" Bishop snarled at him.

"Unless you forgot already, we weren't the ones attacking you on the road," Cael looked meaningfully at Aeyrin. "We were the ones doing the saving."

"It's so fucking convenient how you're all united at some point and then all fucking unique and not responsible for the other clans at any other time," Bishop scowled. "And you sure as fuck tried to attack me when I was looking for Aeyrin. Don't try to play this weird obsession with her as some fucking expression of morality. It's not really convincing when it only applies to her."

"You were being aggressive when you barged into our camp to search for her," Cael scoffed. "What did you expect? That we'd welcome you in after that display and with a feral wolf at your heel growling at us? And whatever 'obsession' you think I have, you're mistaken."

"Oh please, you fucking saw her twice in your life and you make it your personal fucking mission to have her dragged into your 'cause' and have her protected by your whole fucking clan at all costs," Bishop growled at him. It was fucking weird, wasn't it? But he knew the circumstances made sense. He knew that Cael would talk about dragons again and all that shit. But he just couldn't help and get uncomfortable at the looks the chieftain was giving her. He didn't even feel the usual jealous tinge. It wasn't anything lascivious. But he looked at her like he was looking at some goddess. Bishop wasn't sure why it pissed him off so much. Maybe because he knew how much it bothered her to be seen for her powers alone. She did stay very quiet during this conversation. She didn't even chastise Bishop. That only reassured him that she wasn't exactly comfortable with how Cael treated her.

"Are you actually complaining about us protecting her?" Cael gave him a dubious look.

"No. I'm just saying it's fucking weird," Bishop scoffed. He couldn't really fucking complain about Cael saving her life back then, could he? And he couldn't really complain about Anu helping her in the prison. Or even with that fucking debacle with the Forsworn mages and Azshan, he couldn't complain about Robin being cooperative enough after seeing Aeyrin exactly once in her life and not escalating shit into a fight that Aeyrin and Azshan might have even lost.

But it was all just fucking weird.

"We see what the dragons do every single day and she has the power to stop this. She is the only one who can stop this. We would be fools to ignore that. And if you don't see the value she has, then you are the 'weird' one," Cael spoke to Bishop with palpable disdain, but his eyes were fastened on Aeyrin with that same reverence again.

Gods, she was really feeling uncomfortable with this. When they first met, she worried too about being seen only as the 'Dragonborn'. She knew that was the source of Cael's fascination. But it was unfair to judge him for that when she held the same fascination for the mysterious Forsworn that could show her so much of their unfamiliar world.

Now she'd seen enough.

Enough for a lifetime.

And when he looked at her like that, it felt different when she couldn't return that gaze.

"She's not your fucking symbol. She's a person. Leave her out of your bullshit," Bishop growled. He noticed her expression. He knew well by now how she was feeling. Especially when she clammed up like that.

"How could I? How could I not do everything I can to protect my people from this threat? My sparrow, I cannot have you as an enemy. No matter how much our… opinions might clash at some points," Cael looked at her pleadingly.

He got no proper answer from her. She wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't the fascination he used to be. No matter how much she understood and sympathized with how his people were wronged… she could not see past it. Whether she saw that callous bloodthirsty chieftain or… this. The same thing she had seen so many times before. The calculating ruler, trying to weasel his way into her good graces.

And for what? As if she had any power over the dragons at all? As if she could help them at all. She didn't even know where their village was and they couldn't exactly contact her whenever a dragon got near, could they? And he surely couldn't think she would suddenly deliberately stop killing dragons in the Reach, just out of spite, if she was his enemy. It wasn't about protection. It wasn't about help against the beasts.

It was exactly what Bishop said. A symbol. And she was pretty sure nobody even knew what it was good for. Or more precisely, that the symbol was worth nothing at all.

She nodded in feigned understanding. It was what he wanted to hear, no matter that it was meaningless. And she didn't want to hear anything more on this topic.

Bishop only let out a resigned sigh. He knew Cael would say that – that he would miss the point entirely. That he would still keep spewing shit about safety and dragons. What was the point? It was probably best to steer away from this topic. He could see that Aeyrin was really disheartened.

"So… how did you get out of there?" He repeated his original question.

"We didn't stop to fight," Cael explained calmly. "A lot of the people did try to fight back, but we saw the slaughter in the first few moments in the Keep… it was a pointless loss of lives. So I ordered my people to run. Some still fell. Some automatons still caught up to us," he pointed to a particularly deep cut on his bare bicep. "But we didn't engage more than we had to and we just ran. Unfortunately, our shamans didn't make it. And we… haven't been back to the village yet, only to our camp." He lowered his pale-blue eyes in what resembled shame. Was he worried about bringing the news back? Maybe he made lofty promises to anyone whom he left behind in their home.

The lack of healers explained the persistent cuts though.

"What happened to your hair?" Aeyrin asked curiously, now that she found her voice with the relief of the change of topic. She liked the long braids she'd seen on him during the assault. And it always reminded her of their strange meeting when Robin was braiding her hair and chastising her about wearing a ponytail. Back when she still found him charming and kind, as opposed to how Bishop had painted the 'barbarians' to her before.

"Uhm… one of those… things rolling on that big metal ball, it tried to slash me, but got the blade tangled in my braid when I ran. I needed to cut it all off quickly to get away," he let out a soft chuckle, but Robin was scowling. She probably expected this to come now.

"See? See what happens?" Aeyrin smirked at her victoriously. Making such elaborate braids was not only time-consuming and a bit difficult, but also impractical.

"It's better than having your hair turned into a leash and having your face shoved into mud to choke on it," Robin scoffed, but she did give Aeyrin a small challenging smirk too. At least she seemed to be less peeved during a lighter conversation topic.

"That's still better than having an automaton tangle in it," Aeyrin chuckled. "Anyway… uhm… if you need healing…" she shrugged. She could take care of those cuts.

"You would, my sparrow?" Cael gave her that look again.

"Sure," she nodded slowly. Why wouldn't she help them out with the cuts? And maybe it would ease the atmosphere again a bit.

Cael moved first to sit by her side and he outstretched his arm to her. She got to work right away and ran her hand over his bicep, letting it light in healing magic.

"Do your powers include healing too?" Cael asked after a while with fascination in his voice again. What? Everyone's powers could include healing if they learned. What kind of a question was that? But when he saw her confusion, he quickly clarified. "The Shouts. Do you know any that can heal?"

Right. Shouts. He was only interested in the Dragonborn after all. He always had been.

"Not that I know of," she shook her head. "Not all of them are… destructive though."

"Interesting. You didn't use any during the assault," he almost pouted at her. "I thought you would take down the mage's barrier at least or…"

"I didn't want to do that," Aeyrin interrupted him. It wasn't the only reason why she never Shouted, but it was a good reason too. Besides… how exactly would she have taken down that barrier? They had several mages ready to do that. Surely he didn't think that she could outmatch their combined power? It only made it clearer how much he idolized her 'legend' in his head.

"Right," he sighed in defeat. He must have sensed that she didn't want to talk about it. Or maybe he was just thinking of a way to prod her further, but Bishop interrupted this topic soon enough.

"So what's next? Go home and slaughter the Nords on the roads again like proper barbarians?" He smirked meanly.

"Watch it, Nord," Robin snarled at him. "You keep this up, you might become next."

"No, no, he won't," Cael let out a sigh, clearly reassuring Aeyrin. "We are going home. Back to the village. We need to tell them what happened and… maybe rethink some things. Our cause is right. There's no question about it. If you knew all we do, if you lived what we lived, you would never be able to say otherwise," his eyes seemed so passionate within a moment as he scowled intensely. "But… is it worth so many of our lives?"

"Village life is good," Anu spoke. It was almost strange to hear him. He didn't speak much today. "I won't miss all that… stone. I think the wild's calling us away from this place, back to where we really belong."

"We could have still lived in the village and have the Nords and the Empire gone from our land. No one said we needed to move in," Robin grumbled.

"It's a goal that's out of our reach anyway, Robin," Cael shook his head at her. "I don't know where this all leaves us, but there's one thing I do know. My people are more important than my land. I don't ever want to return home with so much bad news again, with so many preparations for parting rites at once looming over us."

"That sounds like the right thing to do," Aeyrin gave him a soft smile. Now she could actually look at him with some admiration again. Despite this mess, he still seemed like a good leader to his people. "War only ever brings more pain."

"Don't be fooled. This will not end the war," Anu scowled. "This will make some reconsider their… aggressiveness, but it will provoke others. Markarth might be safe with those automatons there, but the Reach isn't. And as long as the Nords and the Empire occupy it unrightfully, there will always be our people fighting back."

It rang sadly true. They'd seen the bloodthirstiness of many of those Forsworn during the assault. Even Cael's clan was scary, but the chieftain woman who seemed to be leading the whole thing definitely looked like someone who would only get riled up by this development.

"Well, we can only hope the 'wild will call' more of you," Bishop smirked. Seriously, he would never understand waging war because of some ancestral slight. These people clearly thrived in the wild. If they weren't aggressive assholes attacking travelers, they could all live a good life there and do whatever the fuck they wanted.

"And we can only hope that we'll meet again on less… opposing sides," Cael nudged Aeyrin lightly as she continued to heal his cuts. It was almost done, unless he was hiding some under his armor. "Is it alright to still assume you wouldn't let my people fall to the dragons out of spite, my sparrow?" He looked at her almost pleadingly.

"I don't get to pick where they attack," she chuckled a little nervously. "But… if you think I'd just watch a dragon slaughter you all if I was around then you really have nothing to worry about. And… there's no… spite." Not really. She couldn't explain it. It was maybe more disappointment than spite.

"Good. We don't hold any ill will against you either, sparrow," Cael paused for a while before he turned to Bishop. "Nor you, Nord. As long as that annoying talk of yours always ends at talk."

"Not always," Bishop smirked. "But I don't generally go out of my way to attack people who don't attack me. I really don't give a shit about your land and your war."

"I guess we can part peacefully with that," Cael chuckled. "After the healing, if you don't mind, my sparrow. Robin won't admit it, but she winces every time she moves."

"I said I'm fine!" Robin grumbled, but it was merely met with a brief laugh from both Cael and Anu.

"Of course. I'll take care of it," Aeyrin smiled at them softly. Despite the confusing developments, she still owed them a lot. To Anu for protecting her in the mine, to Cael for saving her life maybe more times than she realized both before and during the assault when he kept her close. To Robin too. And even without those proverbial debts, she would heal them anyway.

She was just glad about their current attitude. She really worried that they would be more sour than regretful over the events in Markarth.

But it was clear now that the revolt served no one.

Well… aside from the prisoners, including her and Bishop. And the Silver-Bloods' deaths were also a positive. Maybe it wasn't about it doing good or bad. It did both.

But just as Cael realized this bitter truth, so did she.

It was not worth the lives lost in this mess.

…

It was almost noon the next day when Bishop and Aeyrin decided to leave their camp by the tower.

The whole 'call of the wild' thing that Anu talked about, they knew it all too well. It was always tempting to return to the wilderness after prolonged stays in cities. They definitely had enough stone as well, especially after their stay in the mine.

The Forsworn left their camp soon after nightfall. After that, the two of them merely enjoyed their solitude and their privacy once more. It was refreshing to be there in the dead of night, alone and only surrounded by nature. Aside from that one Dwemer structure, of course. That was still a constant reminder that they were near Markarth.

They really needed a break from that place.

Fortunately, they were still intent on heading to Dawnstar. And on their way, they wanted to stop by Rorikstead first. Maybe the Moth Priest had already made his way there. It's been a while. It was certainly possible.

But first, they were going to get some good lunch. Bishop hunted down a nice elk in the morning and the prospects of his perfectly spiced venison was really promising.

The smell was already spreading through the area pleasantly. It would still take a while for it to be finished, but neither of them minded lazing about in the camp for a bit longer.

Aeyrin snuggled into Bishop's arms, preventing him from tending the meat with both hands, but he adjusted quickly. He would just flip the meat one-handed. The other one was better served wrapped around her stomach and occasionally stroking over her skin under her shirt.

She could almost doze off like that in his warm embrace. But soon it became clear that it wasn't just nature around them.

A sudden swishing sound alerted them both in a moment. It wasn't too close, but it was still too close to them for their liking.

An arrow.

It buried itself into the ground half-way instantly, but regardless, they could tell the fletching technique and materials apart from any other.

"More Forsworn. Fuck," Bishop growled. His eyes instantly scanned the surroundings – the source where the arrow came from. It must have been shot from that second cliff that stood opposite their camp – that was the only point from which they were visible – but he couldn't see anyone there. Strange.

Was it just a scout who tried a lucky shot?

Who was attacking them?

And crappily at that. The arrow was way off.

"Bish, there's something on it," Aeyrin suddenly called out to him.

'On it'?

He turned his gaze away from the other cliff only reluctantly and he looked at her. She was dragging the arrow from the ground and only then he noticed it too.

It wasn't an attack arrow. It was a message.

Unfortunately, there was not much left of it. There was only a torn tiny piece of paper skewered on the arrow. It was filthy from the dirt and it looked like it would fall apart at any second. Regardless, there was still one word written on it.

.

king

.

What did that mean?

Bishop took the arrow from Aeyrin and studied it carefully, but there was not much else to see. In the meantime, Aeyrin began to dig into the ground where the arrow had landed. The other parts of the note must have been there.

From the state of the scrap they had though, it wouldn't be easy. It was falling apart at a mere touch.

"Go make sure our food's not burnt," Aeyrin only threw Bishop a wry smile. "I'll try to find the rest, but I don't have my hopes up." Really, it was going to be all filthy and torn. She found another scrap soon, but it only had a few letters on it.

.

eone

.

This would likely take a while.

…

It was an hour later when Aeyrin had some parts of the message assembled. At least she was pretty sure she got it right.

.

Som-eone-oo-king-for

The-y do-look frie

Leav

.

Deciphering it was a whole other issue.

"Come on, princess, fuck that shit. It won't make any more sense the more you stare at it. The food's ready," Bishop nudged her promptly. It was no use. She'd been trying to figure it out for so long and didn't get much closer. Someone was looking for someone or something. They do look fried? Or maybe someone was cooking! That's why something looked fried. And was the last line a signature?

It didn't make much sense. And it probably didn't matter. They were going to be leaving for Rorikstead right after their meal. Whatever this was could stay behind in the vicinity of Markarth.

Aeyrin let out a defeated sigh and moved towards the fire again. The food did sound like a more satisfying endeavor.

The sizzling of the dishes and the flames filled the area for a while as Bishop prepared their food in their bowls. But then, the pleasant sound evoking a good meal got drowned out by a less pleasant one.

Someone was marching nearby. Armored. Heavily. It was clear. Bishop listened intently, but he couldn't make out how many people there were and the tower was obstructing his view entirely. It was a larger group though.

"Orcs?" Aeyrin asked idly. The stronghold was so near. But after a few moments, it became clear that the footsteps weren't heading towards the stronghold.

They were headed towards them.

And as they got nearer and nearer, it became painfully obvious that whatever was approaching would not be avoided.

For some reason, Aeyrin got enveloped by an unpleasant feeling, even though she had no idea what to suddenly expect.

But the message she couldn't decipher earlier suddenly felt far more important now.