Under the orange glow of twilight, Cura's figure was illuminated above the snow, casting a long shadow atop the red-reflecting powder. A serene image of a young Breton woman meditating atop the highest mountain in Skyrim glistened in the snow.
Lydia exited and approached her Thane, and sat in the snow beside her. It was serene up there under the gentle but firm breeze. "You've been here all this time, my Thane?" Lydia questioned her.
Cura was unresponsive. She kept her eyes closed and her face to the sky as her legs remained crossed and her hands slumped down over her knees. Lydia promptly shook her, causing the Vigilant to snap out of her trance with a rush of fear. "Hwah?!" Frantically, she began to look around for the source of the disturbance. "Who? Where? What?"
Lydia covered her own mouth and began to lightly chuckle.
"Really, Lydia? Really?" Cura rebuked her, frustratedly.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am." Lydia cackled. "Your face was priceless..."
"I was in the middle of meditating." Cura crossed her arms in a pout. "I want to truly understand this Way of the Voice Master Arngeir spoke of."
"So you're going to sit around and do nothing all night?" Lydia asked her.
"To understand the Way of the Voice, I have to get a feel for my inner self, so I can reflect it in a Shout. You heard what he said." Cura justified herself.
"You're also the exception to the rule." Lydia reminded her. "You really don't have to meditate on the words and whatever it is you think you're doing."
"No, but I want to." Cura stated. "Lydia... I don't know what it is about this Mountain, but... I feel connected here."
"Connected to what?" Lydia scoffed, gaining humour in this.
"To everything. To the world." Cura stated. "To Aetherius, even... it feels... tranquil. Do you feel it?"
"I feel something, I'll admit." Lydia stated. "But I'm not sure if it's annoyance or impatience."
"In the morning we'll go to get the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller." Cura stated. "There's no immediate rush. I'm sure Master Arngeir would understand that it's better to wait and do a task when you're Well Rested and properly prepared versus failing at a task due to collapsing from exhaustion. Besides, when one is Well Rested, they can gleam more from experiences in life."
"Well... regardless of your intent, I've got your back." Lydia assured her. "When the rest of the world comes crashing down on you, know that I'll be covering your head."
"Wow, Lydia... that was very profound." Cura admired her use of imagery.
"I guess this Mountain really is affecting me." Lydia shrugged as she pulled herself up out of the snow. "So, uh, here..." She reached into her bag and handed Cura an Apple Dumpling, which caused her eyes to lit up.
"Lydia! Where did you get an Apple Dumpling?" Cura excitedly took it from her hands and began to chew it.
"From the Going Away Party at the Hall of the Vigilant early this morning." Lydia stated. "I never knew the Vigilants could be so gluttonous. When you went outside I had to pack as many as I could before they all disappeared."
"Thank you, Lydia." Cura smiled sentimentally as she looked at the Dumpling, now three-quarters of the way gone. "You know... it was nice. Keeper Carcette throwing a party for me... I never would have thought of it. Ever. The most I'd ever had for my Birthday was an Apple Dumpling and Sweetroll."
"You really have a Sweet Tooth, huh?" Lydia smirked. "I don't blame you. I'll take a Mead over an Ale most days."
"Oh my Aedra, same!" Cura exclaimed exaggeratedly.
"Speaking of..." Lydia pulled out an orange bottle with a cork in it with a label depicting a beehive, reading "Honningbrew Mead. above it. "catch!" She tossed it to Cura, who quickly scrambled to catch it, and she took one of her own, and sat back down in the snow.
"Oooh, yes! Honningbrew!" Cura exclaimed excitedly. "I feel kind of bad for them, though... I hear that their rival, the Black-Briar Meadery in Riften, is currently taking the market by storm. I hope they don't wind up closing down."
"I hope so, too." Lydia stated. "Nothing beats Honningbrew. Nothing!"
Cura nodded as she began to drink the mead. The alcohol suppressed the cold wind chill from around them as they sat in silence momentarily.
"So... my Thane, where was it that they said the Horn of Jurgen was?" Lydia posed the question. "It might be some distance away."
"I feel as though even if I die against Alduin, I will be known as the 'Failed Dragonborn who was very good at Tomb Raiding, at least.'" Cura chuckled lightly as she took her map out of her bag and scooched over to Lydia's side so they could look together. "Ustengrav... Ustengrav..." she moved her finger about the map in search of this 'Ustengrav.' Was it in Eastmarch? Was it in the Pale? Was it in Haafingar? The Reach, perhaps?
Then she cornered it; the symbol depicting what looked like a trio of pillars culminating in a single point heading upwards. "Ruin." Cura explained to Lydia what the symbol signified. When she put her finger on it, the Magickal Map's name slowly faded into existence. "Ustengrav."
"So, it is located northeast of Morthal, and southeast of Solitude." Lydia mused. "Shouldn't be too hard to get there. We could... ugh... Fast Travel to Solitude and make way from there."
"We could." Cura agreed. "But first, I like your idea of getting additional help. This seems like it'll be a tall order."
"I would think so. It's meant to be grueling." Lydia stated.
"What's the nearest city?" Cura asked, for a refresher.
"Riften." Lydia explained. "But, it's home of the Thieves Guild. Doesn't seem like a good place to hire help."
"I've never been to Riften." Cura admitted. "This could be a way to kill two birds with one stone."
"Do you really want to do this, my Thane?" Lydia asked her dryly.
"I do." Cura explained. "If we go to Riften in the morning, we will have a way to Fast Travel back there from anywhere-it could be advantageous in the future. Who knows?" She shrugged. "I plan to tour the whole Province. I want to know the people who I'm protecting."
"You are such an idealist." Lydia scoffed as Cura folded her map and stood up out of the snow.
"It's better to be an idealist than to be a pessimist." Cura stated as she headed back inside. Lydia quickly scrambled to her feet and followed her.
As the pair walked through the halls, the only sound that could be heard was their echoing footsteps that reverberated along the walls and ceilings. Cura saw who she thought was Arngeir and approached him.
"Excuse me, Master Arngeir-do you have any spare beds?" She asked politely.
The monk turned his face, and Cura immediately realized she was speaking to the wrong one. It was Borri.
"Oops. My mistake, Master Borri." Cura apologized.
The Monk simply nodded in reassurance and pointed to a chamber down the western hallway.
"Thank you." Cura nodded as she hurried along to the directed room. When she opened the door, she could see a few old, raggedy beds lining the wall. It would seem she and Lydia had their pick.
Cura picked the bed closest to the back wall, as it felt homey and comfortable to her. Lydia, on the other hand, picked the one nearest to the door.
Cura unfastened her mace and laid it on the end table beside her bed, along with her shield and hood. Out of respect for the Greybeards, she decided to sleep in her robes. They were gentle and peaceful men; she would not want to be an unwitting temptress in their monastery.
"Good night, Lydia." Cura stated.
"Good night, My lady." Lydia responded as she lay her back on the mattress and placed her hands on her stomach in a relaxing position.
Cura turned over to her right and looked at Lydia. Her loyal Housecarl. Never in her life would she ever have even entertained the thought of being a Thane and having her own Housecarl. A Thane without property, but a Thane regardless. And the way she looked at it, Lydia was a good Housecarl; she carried all of the heavy things like Dragon bones, and even some things she found on the path. Her diligence was admirable, as well.
Cura hoped she could be as good a Dragonborn as Lydia was a Housecarl.
Someday.
Alduin was out there somewhere, waiting. It felt as if this were a personal challenge by the Dragon. Was he waiting for her to grow in power and face him as an equal, perhaps? If he were the dreaded World Eater, would he not have already consumed the world when he returned? What kept him from doing so? He's had all this time, and surely if the Greybeards could sense her as Dragonborn, the supposed Son of Akatosh could sense it, too.
And yet, he saved her in Helgen.
Why?
There were many unanswered questions swirling about in Cura's brain.
In regards to the Shouts; if it were a language, perhaps she could even experiment with them. Would it be safe? Probably not. She would have to try when she isn't on a mountain thousands of feet in the air.
Slowly, but surely, she began to drift off to sleep.
That night, she was visited in her dreams by the old grey Dragon again. As Cura walked through a meadow of flowers surrounded by light dusty snow, this large wyvern descended from the skies and landed in front of her. "Drem Yol Lok." He spoke in a cordial manner, lowering his head with courtesy.
Cura was surprised, but quickly responded back. "Drem Yol Lok." She gave a light bow forward, interpreting the greeting as such. She held her hand to her chest to calm her racing heart.
"Kun. You have come at last, Dovahkiin." The grey Dragon walked towards her, striding along the ground using his ancient wings to pull himself forward, much like how a bat walks along the cavern walls. "You are on your way to discovering your suleyk. Power."
Was he trying to teach her the Dragon tongue?
"Suleyk. Kun." Cura repeated the words. "Suleyk. Kun." With repetition, her pronounciation was quickly catching on.
"In time, you will learn to speak Dovahzul." The old Dragon told her. "You are young, The skies of Keizaal are yours to explore. Be diligent, and you will overcome all vokul after we meet on the Monahven."
"Keizaal, vokul, Monahven..." Cura closed her eyes and repeated the words. When she opened her eyes again, she realized that she was much higher off the ground than usual. "Huh?" Looking down, she realized that she no longer had hands, but they had morphed into a pair of white draconic wings. Her robes were gone, as well; replaced by a large, scaly chest that seemed to span a great length. The scales were a pale light blue. Cura realized what had happened when she lumbered over to the nearby lake past the flowers, and when she looked into the water, a white dragon looked back at her, and mimicked her movements.
She was the Dragon. White, with light blue shines on her underside scales and webs between her wing fingers. Her eyes were bright green, and her horns were long and elegant, a contrast to Alduin's gnarled black horns and sharp scales.
She spread out her beautiful wings and took to the skies, flying over rolling hills and mountains, performing loops and rolls in the sky, and as she felt the blissful tranquility, she slowly began to wake from her slumber.
Light shone in from the windows, luminating the black stone walls, and Lydia was already awake. Cura slowly began to stir, herself.
"Good morning, my Thane." Lydia greeted her. "How was your night?"
"It was... good." Cura smiled as she rubbed her tired eyes. "I think I have to tell the Greybeards about the dream I had last night." She slowly pulled herself upright into a sitting position.
"Your dream?" Lydia questioned. "What happened in your dream?"
"I met an old Dragon." Cura explained. "I've seen him before, in an older dream... he wasn't hostile; exactly the opposite. He was kind and acted almost as a mentor. He taught me a few words in Dovahzul."
"'Dovahzul'?" Lydia was unfamiliar with the term.
"Dovahzul is the Dragon Language." Cura fastened her Elven mace back on her hip and strapped her Glass shield back onto her left arm as she stood up straight. Quickly, she headed past Lydia and went out into the main chamber, where sure enough, the Greybeards were seated, forming a circle on the symbol on the floor.
The word "Ro" seemed to still be indented on the floor, but Cura walked past it, and headed towards Arngeir. She cleared her throat. "Drem Yol Lok." She stated.
Arngeir slowly looked up from his meditation when he heard the words leave her mouth. "Most impressive. Where did you learn that?" He questioned her curiously. He hadn't taught her those words, so the origin of them piqued his interest.
Lydia finally caught up to Cura, and stood behind her.
"I had a dream last night," Cura began to explain. "I was hoping if you could clarify its meaning to me."
Arngeir nodded expectantly. "Tell us, Dragonborn."
"I met with an ancient Dragon. He was green, but greying, and had a broken horn on his chin." Cura's description led the Greaybeards to glancing at one another in surprise. Still, they listened. "he told me I would meet him on the Monahven, and taught me a few words in Dovahzul. Then I became a white dragon."
"Very interesting, indeed." Arngeir expressed. "In due time, you will know what it means. All will be revealed. You must continue on with your training, and eventually, when you are ready, you will understand the meaning of that dream."
Cura nodded in agreement. It was true, she still had much to learn. Maybe her subconscious was telling her that. Before she could be true Dovah, she had much to improve upon. First things first, she had to get the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. "I understand. I will do my best, Master." Cura assured the old man.
"Of this I have no doubt." Arngeir admitted. "Best of luck to you; may Kynareth guide your steps." He slowly reverted to his daily meditation, and Cura left the monastery through the front door on the left. Lydia followed behind her.
"My Thane, so we will head to Riften, right?" She asked for clarification.
"Yes. We'll get Joile and go for a ride to Riften. We'll recruit some followers to help us on this journey." Cura stated. "After my past experiences, I realize that if I am to grow, I can't keep pushing myself to injury and exhaustion. It doesn't help, and it was very reckless."
They walked down the steps of the mountain, feeling the cold chill of the air. Cura held a hand up with Flames circling it to keep them both warm as they traversed the frozen cliffsides.
"If you don't mind me asking, why did you do that to yourself?" Lydia asked sincerely. "Work yourself near to death, I mean."
"Because I really wanted to help the Vigil. Failure wasn't an option!" Cura exclaimed. "I wasn't thinking rationally; I wanted to prove to Keeper Carcette that I could do things on my own. I... had a bit of a talk with her concerning it in the Mines."
"It sounds to me as though you're still hung up about it." Lydia expressed her mild concerns about Cura's mental health.
"I am. It will take a while, but I will eventually move on from it." Cura explained. "It's just that I bottled up my feelings of frustration and my obsession with gaining her approval for years. Even now, I'm sure she's regretting the choice to let me go."
"She was like a Mother to you, right?" Lydia stated. "It's kind of normal to feel attached to someone who you helped raise from infancy. As much as I can't stand her, I could understand how she must feel."
"Brother Adalvald and Vigilant Tolan were always encouraging, though." Cura expressed with a smile. "They taught me so many useful things over the years; from Alchemy to History, to Combat, to most of my knowledge of field beasts and some Daedra. I don't know where I would be without them."
"Your childhood must have been interesting." Lydia laughed.
"It was." Cura stated genuinely. "Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and experience it again, my younger years."
"Don't we all." Lydia stated as they turned the corner and headed down the last set of stairs, taking them back down to Ivarstead.
Sure enough, Klimmek was back at the bridge, talking to a young man with auburn hair. "We're behind again. I need you to catch another two bushels by week's end if I'm to make another delivery." The poor fisherman snapped at the standoffish man.
The snide man crossed his arms, unimpressed and unthreatened. "Blood from a stone, Klimmek. I've been out there every morning. They just aren't biting."
Klimmek was not having it. He shook his head disapprovingly. "Come on, everyone in town knows that you spend more time with Fastred than fishing in the river."
The words dug under the other man's skin, causing him to retort defensively. "That's none of your business and I appreciate if you wouldn't mention it again." He spat before turning around and walking down the brook.
Cura approached once they finished their discussion, not wanting to get involved in it.
"Ah, good to see you again! How did that delivery go?" Klimmek asked as Cura approached him.
"I delivered the supplies to High Hrothgar, in the chest in front of the entrances." Cura stated, recounting the location.
"Quite a climb, wasn't it? Anyway, much appreciated. Here, take this for your troubles." Klimmek was about to hand her a coin purse, but Cura refused to accept it from the poor fisherman.
"No, no, it's all right." Cura stated. "I was heading there anyways."
"That's very kind of you." Klimmek stated, pleasantly surprised and humbled by Cura's kindness. "I hope you have a good and safe voyage, wherever you're going."
"Thank you." Cura said as she continued onwards to find Joile.
The horse looked better than ever; his coat was cleaned and his hooves were shined, and his mane was preened and stylized with Nordic braids.
"Oh, wow! Joile, you look great!" Cura exclaimed.
The barkeep came from around the building, a pitchfork in his hands. He wiped the sweat off his brow. "Forgive the braids; that was Lynly's doing. She thought it would give him some 'personality'. Nonsense, all."
Cura laughed. "It looks cute on him. I don't mind it."
The horse shook his head around and snorted, blissfully unaware of any of it. Cura patted his snout and climbed on top of him, Lydia joining her shortly.
"You're leaving already?" The Barkeep asked. "After a single day?"
"I'll be back." Cura stated. "Maybe in a day or two. A week, at most." She threw the reins forward. "Hya!"
Joile quickly began to move, and headed through the grassy plains.
The voyage lasted from the morning to the evening as they headed through knoll, forest and wetlands on the way through the Rift. The air was comfortably cool for this time of year, and even from a distance one could feel the moisture in the air from Lake Honrich to the East.
Through the travel, Cura and Lydia survived a few encounters with angry Bears, a Saber Cat, and a couple of territorial tree spirits; Spriggans, which agitated the wild life against them.
Cura butted a few Wolves away with her mace when they ran too close to Joile, and Lydia hacked and slashed away at them, as well.
The beautiful orange and red foliage deceitfully covered skeletons along the path, as well as the Trolls who made them.
Cura concentrated her flames against the fiends with care not to catch the trees in it, and the group cut around it and continued running.
The sky was beginning to turn Twilight, and the pair saw a few large Guard towers heading up a hill.
At the top of that hill, at the end of the path, was a walked city next to Lake Honrich. They arrived at Riften.
When the pair arrived at the entrance near the stables, Lydia pulled Cura away from the main gate, which was blocked by two guards in purple tabards bearing shields with the image of crossed daggers on it. "No, Cura-we could take the other way around."
"The other way?" Cura wondered. Was there a back entrance to the city?
"Through the Black-Briar Meadery." Lydia stated. "We could enter through the back and exit by the front entrance and be right at the heart of the city. No need to deal with the stupid guards."
"I'm sure I could simply persuade them to move aside." Cura suggested. Sneaking through didn't seem right.
"Not without being extorted. This is Riften-the Thieves Guild has its claws in every facet of life." Lydia explained.
"Lowlives." Cura judged. "They have monopoly over the Guards as well?"
"Not exactly, but the Guards have a deal with them, and abuse their own authority while the Jarl, Laila Law-Giver sits on her throne with her head in the clouds." Lydia explained as she led Cura around the stable house towards the lake.
"Doesn't sound like she's giving too many laws, then." Cura mused amusingly.
"All right, that was pretty good." Lydia admitted with a smirk.
Quickly, Lydia stepped into the water and beckoned for Cura to follow her.
"You want me to go in there?" Cura complained. "My robes will get heavy and wet..." She hated the idea of the fabric getting stuck to the armour underneath.
"They get wet with blood all the time." Lydia checked her. "Water isn't a big deal."
Cura sighed, defeated. "Okay, fine. You have a point." She begrudgingly stepped into the fluid, her leggings beginning to stick to her flesh immediately. The water was lukewarm, at least, even if it smelled disgusting.
Lydia swam ahead, prompting Cura to follow her through the back of the houses and up a ladder onto a wharf. After maneuvering over a few boardwalks, they came upon the Warehouse and turned left.
They saw a couple of guards in front of the back entrance to the city, as well.
Lydia pulled Cura out of the field of vision and behind a stone building. When she opened the door, they immediately could smell the sweet smell of Mead.
Rather than stopping there, Lydia maneuvered around an angry-looking Dark Elf in fine blue clothes lined with fur. Cura followed through the wooden halls and turned past the entrance bar and exited, straight into the Riften Marketplace.
Cura took a moment to admire her surroundings; there were several market stalls: one selling armour, run by an angry brunette Nord in leather armour, one run by an Argonian fellow in blue, one run by a Dark Elf in casual red clothes, and one run by a redheaded Nord man with a nack for speaking. In the center of the plaza was a closed off well.
To Cura's right she could see a blacksmith hard at work, and further off she could see a Castle Keep. Directly ahead she could see houses and what appeared to be a Temple devoted to Mara. She wondered if Erandur had been here.
To her left she could see a tavern with a sign that read "The Bee and Barb", across the small walkway from "The Pawned Prawn." Whatever that was. And of course the Black-Briar Meadery was behind her, beside the door leading to the boardwalks.
The city carried the stale air of Lake Honrich, as well as sewage, and something else...
Cura pulled her collar forward and took a scent and quickly realized that what she was smelling was herself. A mix of dried blood, sweat, natural odour, and mud.
Those poor Greybeards. And they said nothing to her out of politeness.
The Breton felt embarrassed, and hoped nobody would notice her over the sewage and seaweed air.
"Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh, lass?" A voice caught Cura off-guard.
She quickly whirled around to see the redheaded Nord who was running the stall on the left. He wore fine blue clothes. Surprising, for a supposed poor marketer.
"I'm sorry, what?" Cura did not appreciate his sneaking up on her.
"I'm saying you've got the coin but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell." the suave and cunning Nord spoke in his thick accent.
"No, you can't, clearly." Cura stated, having taken offense at the accusation. "I'll have you know I've earned all of it fairly... and my wealth is none of your business."
"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing. It's a dead giveaway." the Nord laughed. "And wealth is my business. Help me out and I'll add to yours."
"Just what are you getting at?" Cura did not like where this was going.
"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid." he continued to elaborate on his scheme. "It's very simple... I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."
"Why don't I just report you to the authorities instead?" Cura was no way in Oblivion that she would ever go along with this.
"Sorry... I usually have a nose for this kind of thing." The conniver shrugged. "You can try to tell the guards... but there's no promise that you won't end up arrested for... conspiring to commit a crime against a citizen of the Rift."
So they did have the Guards in their pocket. And this was a member of the Guild. Cura wasn't afraid of his veiled threat.
"Oh, yeah?" The Breton challenged. "I have witnesses on my side."
"And I have coin." the Thief stated.
"So do I." Cura tilted her head opposingly.
"My Thane, we should just move on." Lydia pulled her away before she could get into trouble. "Maybe we could head down the stairs to the lower level. Take a relaxing bath at the Bathhouse."
Cura couldn't refuse such an offer. "Sure... I just hope they don't use the sewer water..."
The Thief watched the pair walk through the marketplace, over the bridge, and down the stairs. He slowly nodded before heading back to his stall. He would not forget that encounter.
Cura and Lydia headed down the boardwalk at the lower canal and reached the Bathhouse, according to the sign jutting from the wall beside a door. Cura was unsure about bathing in the presence of other people, but she also was beyond disgusted by her wretched stench. As well, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to relax and entrust her clothing to the workers for a thorough cleansing.
When they made it to the counter, an Imperial woman signaled for them to come over. "Leave your weapons on the rack in the corner, and leave your clothes over near the basin." She instructed. "There will be no picking of others' pockets there as well. Are we clear?"
"Absolutely." Cura reassured the woman. "But... can I keep my Amulet?" She showed her Amulet of Stendarr.
"No jewelry allowed, either." The Imperial woman stated. "No rings, no necklaces."
"That's asinine!" Cura protested. "This is no mere necklace! This is a symbol of Divine Authority! The Amulet of Stendarr, the God of Mercy!"
"We aren't Daedra worshippers in here, Cheesebrain." The Imperial remarked snidely. "Just hand it to me and I'll store it in the Strongbox. You can have it back when you're finished."
Cura looked at Lydia, expecting some kind of defense or remark, but Lydia simply nodded to her. With a reluctant sigh, Cura, with a shaking hand, handed over her Amulet, and the Imperial woman placed it inside of the Strongbox on the back of her counter, and locked it tightly with her key, which she then inserted into her bra. "Enjoy your stay."
Cura walked past a curtain and slowly undid her robe. She felt like such a mop, handing over her most prized possession. Even though she had her robes and armour on still, she already felt as though she were naked.
She unfastened her belt and removed her satchel, then her surcape, then her robes themselves. Slowly, she unbuckled the Vigil Enforcer Armour she relied so much on, and then stripped off her gauntlets, her boots, and finally the elastics used to braid her blonde hair in rows.
When Cura saw her reflection in the mirror she was aghast by the sheer number of scars she had sustained. She hadn't realized just how reckless she really was until this very moment. Water dripped from the moisture clinging to the ceiling and landed on her bosom, on a deep groove in her flesh from one of the crossbow traps in Ruunvald. She touched it, examining the scar, and her body shivered in recollection of the piercing bolt. Then the scar below her left rib on her side served as a reminder of the Dwarven Ballista rod that pierced her being and threw her into the water.
A cut, on her left arm, sustained by Fenrik in the Quicksilver mine. A couple of scars on her left thigh from the vicious slices of bandits and Draugr alike. And then when she leaned in closer, she saw one in her shoulder; a knife wound. And then a cut above her belly button from the Bandit who infected her with Farkas' blood.
She had been through a lot. Too much.
She was no longer the soft, innocent young Breton she once was. How long ago was it that she had her first real fight? Helgen. Of course, it was Helgen. When she impaled that Stormcloak Soldier. Hadvar told her it would get easier with time, and sadly, he was correct. She'd slain many more since then, and now even though a twinge of sadness remained in its memory, that was all it was; a twinge. A mere inkling of a memory of sorrow and regret.
"What is wrong with me...?" Cura softly muttered to herself, afraid of the indifference she was slowly feeling. She hurried out of the small changing room. She had seen enough. Quickly, she placed her robes and undergarments at the basin, next to Lydia's so as to distinguish from the garments of other guests.
The air was damp with a chill. Cura covered as much of herself as she could as she slowly slipped into the bathing pool area.
Immediately, they walked in on the conversation of a large blonde Nord woman with a green stripe tattoo going over the left side of her face, and a smaller Imperial man with short brown hair, and no facial hair to speak of.
"I had another run-in with the Thieves Guild." The Nord woman stated plainly, but with a bit of frustration.
The Imperial man seemed distraught. It was clear that this was no uncommon occurrence."Be careful, Mjoll. The Thieves Guild has Maven Black-Briar at their back. One snap of her fingers, and you could end up in Riften Jail... or worse."
The Nord woman, revealed to be called Mjoll, shook her head. "They represent the reason I'm here. I can't just ignore them, Aerin."
Aerin, the Imperial, let out a sigh of resignation. "I know. I just don't want you to leave; you're the only good thing that's happened to this city in a long time."
Cura wrapped a fur towel around her torso and slowly walked towards the pool, dipping her feet in first.
"You're a stranger here too, eh?" Mjoll looked at Cura as she settled in the pool. Clearly, an unfamiliar face in these parts.
"I am!" Cura replied as she sat on one of the underwater stone seats.
"Visitors like us are rare in this part of Skyrim." Mjoll stated.
"Oh, you're not from Riften?" Cura asked, intrigued, as she began to wipe behind her ears.
Lydia descended into the pool and swam over to the further side, beneath the downpour of water from the golden pipe above. She leaned back and took in the water happily.
"I've been adventuring across Tamriel since I was a fresh-faced young woman barely able to swing a blade. My travels have taken me from High Rock to Valenwood, Elsweyr to Morrowind and all points in between." Mjoll boasted lightheartedly.
"Wow! You've been to High Rock?" Cura's face lit up. "I'd love to go there someday."
"You're a Breton from Skyrim?" Mjoll was curious.
"Yes; from the Pale, actually." Cura informed her. "It's so frigid over there. The weather here in the Rift is a welcome change."
"I can imagine." Aerin stated. "I've never been to the Pale, but Mjoll told me it was a frozen tundra."
"Aye." Mjoll confirmed.
"All year round." Cura admitted. "That's how it became known as 'The Pale'. Speaking of; I'm Vigilant Cura of the Pale." She extended a hand for a shake, and Mjoll happily obliged.
"Mjoll the Lioness." the large Nord greeted jovially. "Vigilant, huh? You're one of the Stendarr fanatics?"
"That's not fair." Cura stated with a slanted brow. "We're not all zealots. Many of us are, granted, but not all of us."
"I suppose that's fair." Mjoll stated. "We've been speaking for three minutes and not once have you said that I'd be punished for working with Daedra, so I believe you."
Cura chuckled. "Then let me ruin the streak right now: Walk always in the light, or we will drag you to it." She said it in the sternest tone she could muster up, and managed to hold her serious expression before the small group burst out laughing. "How was that?" Cura asked. "Was I at all convincing?"
"You could work a bit with the eyes." Aerin admitted. "Still too friendly-looking."
"Drat. And to think I've been practicing it for years." Cura clicked her tongue in disappointment.
Aerin decided to change the topic, returning to Mjolls mention of travelling prior. "You've been in Riften for quite some time now, Lady Mjoll. I fear that you soon may leave us."
Cura was beginning to wonder if she could convince Mjoll to accompany her on the quest to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Being a Nord, surely Mjoll would have an appreciation for her own culture, and a desire to see living Legends.
Mjoll shook her head. "Riften has problems of its own. Now is not the time for exploration and discovery."
Ouch. She immediately put the kibosh on the idea, before Cura could even ask.
Aerin placed a hand on his left shoulder. "I'm relieved to hear you say that. If you were to leave, I'd miss you terribly."
Mjoll smiled. "Aerin, I owe you my life. It would take a threat to all of Skyrim for me to depart."
"You owe Aerin your life?" Lydia chimed in from the corner. "What happened? I've got to hear this one." Clearly, Lydia could not believe that a man as weak-seeming as Aerin could save anyone's life; let alone the life of this she-beast.
"I was adventuring in the depths of a ruins when I was attacked by a massive construct... like nothing I had ever seen. When the colossus struck, Grimsever was knocked from my grasp and I was wounded badly. It was only through blind luck I was able to crawl away from the Dwemer abomination and make my way to the surface. I must have collapsed, because the next thing I remember is Aerin standing over me tending to my wounds." Mjoll recounted her horrors with slight difficulty. It resonated with Cura.
"I've dealt with Dwarven Constructs, as well." She admitted. "Ask Lydia if you're curious. I'd... rather not revisit the incident." Still the sensitive sponge, as ever,
"A Dwarven Ballista impaled her. It wasn't pretty. I had to dive into the water to save her from drowning." Lydia explained to Mjoll, who cringed.
Cura slowly submerged herself in the water to hide her embarrassment. Did Lydia really have to make her sound so amateurish? Slowly, Cura came back up, and wiped some of the water from her eyes. Quickly, she decided to change the subject.
"Tell me about the Black-Briar family." Cura scratched settled into the water with a gentle stretch. If Mjoll was a Lioness, she was a Kitten, comparatively. She felt a little intimidated asking anything of Mjoll, even though the woman seemed very nice. When a Breton stands before a Nord, they are like a bush beneath a tree. Still, Cura was a Dragon. Why should she fear a Lioness? With that thought, her confidence returned. "I know they're not just the owners of a Meadery. There's something more to them. I overheard what Aerin said."
"Maven Black-Briar, the matriarch of the family, represents everything that's wrong with this city. She's bribed countless officials, has friends back in the Imperial city and freely associates with the Thieves Guild. I've tried everything I can to protect Riften's citizens from her family, but to no avail." Mjoll stated, growing ever so frustrated as she spoke of the venomous wench.
"Who else is in the family?" Cura asked for elaboration.
"Well, there's Ingun Black-Briar, Maven's daughter. Strange girl. She likes to spend her time down in Elgrim's Elixirs working on her alchemy. Then you have Hemming, Maven's son. Spoiled brat and heir to her empire. He follows her word like a loyal dog follows its master. And finally, Sibbi; the worst of all of them. He's in Riften Jail for murder." Mjoll's tone dropped gravely at the mention of Sibbi, in particular. That was one strange family.
"And what can you tell me about Riften's Thieves Guild?" Cura continued on. "I think I may have met one of them, actually."
"To call it a guild is ridiculous. How can people who would betray one another over a gold coin be considered part of an association? They're the worst kind. Even the Dark Brotherhood abides by a strict set of rules and tradition. These thieves are just rabble. What do you think?" Mjoll turned the question around, and quickly probed Cura for an answer.
Cura vigorously nodded. "I agree completely. Groups like that only bring everyone down. They bribe, menace, and ruin the lives of innocent people. Our society would be much better if they were imprisoned, or if they met thee executioner's blade."
"You know, I'm beginning to respect you. Other than Aerin, you seem to be the only other person I've met I might be able to trust." Mjoll admitted. "Since we share the same opinion of them, let me warn you that they're recruiting others to join their 'guild' and you should be cautious."
"Oh, I know. One of them tried to recruit me when I first arrived, not even one hour ago. He worked one of the shopping stands, selling potions. He wanted me to plant a stolen ring on someone so the Guards could have an excuse to arrest him. Disgusting." Cura sneered.
"Brynjolf." Aerin snorted. "He's a dirtbag, that one. Be careful with him."
"I told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted nothing to do with his proposition." Cura stated. "Then Lydia and I came here, because to be honest, this is my first shower in over three weeks, at least."
"Ew." Aerin's nose curled in disgust.
"Well, I travel. The only bathwater we can get in the Pale is the freezing water from the shores of Dawnstar." Cura seemed insulted by his reaction, given the circumstances. "And snow tends to evaporate too quickly in the basin when we heated it to make batheable water. What do you want from me?"
Immediately, two Riften Guards rushed through the curtains into the bathing area, causing everyone to scream, startled by the unexpected arrival. The Guards quickly went over to Cura. "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defense?"
Cura leaned backwards in ill-gotten surprise. "Excuse me, what? I've done nothing wrong! What is this?"
Mjoll looked to the Guards and stood up for Cura. "Yes. She was in here, with us. What is this about?"
One of the Guards threw Cura's robe on the floor and began to step on it before tossing it back to her. "Put this on and come with us."
"But I've done nothinf!" Cura protested. "Lydia, tell them!"
Lydia hurried over and stood at her side. "She's telling the truth! We were together the entire time!"
The Guard on the left held up a Silver Diamond Ring. "Oh? And yet we found this stolen ring in her robe pocket."
Cura's eyes widened, as well as Mjoll's, Lydia's and Aerin's.
"Come on, now." The Guard on the right pointed his sword at Cura as she quickly got changed. He then grabbed her by the arm and tied her wrists together behind her back. Then he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Brynjolf sends his regards."
That son of a bitch!
Cura was dragged out of the pool area and a woman in black leather armour with white hair gave her a naughty grin before strutting over to the Strongbox on the counter.
"Wait!" Cura thrashed as she noticed what the conniving vixen was doing. "Don't you dare take that! HEY!" The Guards kept pulling her back as she helplessly watched the thief pocketing her Amulet of Stendarr. "STOP! THIEF!"
Cura was pulled out the door, and the white-haired woman smiled at her and showed her the middle finger before the door closed on her.
The Young Breton continued to scramble, and eventually broke free of the Guards. "THAT'S MY AMULET!" She cried out loud. Truly, she'd had it her entire life. It was a keepsake, even more than a simple item of worship. Brother Adalvald had presented it to her on her third birthday. It was incredibly valuable; irreplaceable.
Before Cura could reach the door, however, an arrow was plunged into her back, and she fell face-first onto the wharf. The Guards grabbed her from behind again and dragged her off to the Jailhouse.
A few moments later, a decently-dressed Lydia, Mjoll, and Aerin came running out.
Lydia angrily kicked the stone wall. "Dirty bastards!"
The white-haired woman nonchalantly exited behind the trio and casually walked down the boardwalk. Lydia could tell that something was off about her, but they had more pressing concerns now.
"What do we do now?" Lydia asked Mjoll.
"We pay her bail." Mjoll volunteered.
Lydia looked at some of the splattered blood on the wooden boards. "My Thane..." She saw a strand of blonde hair in the small puddle, confirming her suspicion. She then turned to Mjoll. "That's... awfully nice of you to offer."
"I hate seeing injustice." Mjoll explained. "I don't believe for a second that she would have stolen that ring. It's the work of the Thieves Guild." She rushed on ahead, making way towards Mistveil Keep. Lydia and Aerin hurried along behind her.