"Ysolda, my flower! May I just say you look finer than the tip of my quill on this cool evening." It was late at night a week and a half since Ri'saad had left the city. Ysolda was walking home after a long day of running around to various contacts when her commute was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Mikael. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she turned around and was immediately hit by the oppressive smell of alcohol. A handsome nord man with shoulder-length blonde hair approached her, his face reddened from the drink. At her response, he happily plucked a flute from his pocket and blew a short jovial melody.
"The pleasure is all mine, my sweet. How come you didn't come by the tavern last night? I had a song picked out just for you," he said, leaning his arm around her shoulders. The sound of laughter could be heard a few feet away, and Ysolda turned her head to see three more of Mikael's friends coming up behind her. In truth, she always rather fancied Mikael, but on this night she found him irksome. Sober he was charming, but when he and his equally boorish friends got together to drink and tell tales of the women they'd had, she never wanted to be around for it.
"Sorry about that, I was busy cleaning up my ledger yesterday and I fell asleep at my desk. Slept clean through to the morning!" she said with a sigh. She ducked out of his arms and backed up against the beam of an awning across the way. "You'll have to show me your song next time, I guess!"
"In due time, little bird, in due time." By this time his friends had caught up with him and started chatting amongst themselves. Ysolda could only wonder how he could come up with more patronizing names for her every day.
"Wastin' yer time on this one, Mikael. A broad like that prefers a burly, hairy man, ain't that right, little lady?" A larger man with a thick beard leaned down, cornering her against the beam. He stared at her for a moment before letting loose a goofy smile and opening up the front of his shirt to reveal a rug of chest hair. "Whaddya think, that enough for ya?" he boomed. The group of drunk nords behind him started laughing hysterically, but Ysolda only lifted an eyebrow. She thought for a moment before readying a reply.
"Afraid it's not enough, actually!" The laughing ceased and Mikael and the other two men listened closely. She smirked and continued "Come back when you've got a chest like a Khajiit and maybe then you'll be burly enough for me!" she said slyly. The laughing continued again, even more uproarious than before.
"So that's why you're always with the caravans, is it?" said Mikael through laughter. "I always knew you were a freak, Ysolda!" She chuckled and then tried to walk away, but Mikael grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her in close. His breath stank of alcohol and his eyes seemed unable to focus on her for more than a second at a time. "But it's always the freaks who are the most fun in bed," he said in a deep, chesty voice.
"Ugh, Mikael!" she yelped, pushing him away. He stumbled back into his group of friends and they all started shouting and laughing and continuing on with their merriment. "For the record, I'm with the caravans because I'm learning the merchant's trade, thank you very much!" She scoffed at them and continued on down the cobblestone path.
"Not so fast, baby!" Another man, this one with braided brown hair and a belted tunic, approached Ysolda, who refused to turn around. "If learnin's what you want, I could teach you a thing or two." he said, cracking up with laughter.
"Hey hey, don't steal my girl!" cried Mikael from the back.
Ysolda turned around to yell at them to go away when they all suddenly went quiet. "Listen here, all of you! I've just about had it with your games. If you're getting lonely at night, how about you go find a nice sock and see if you have better luck convincing it to stay with you!" she spat at them. As soon as the words had left her lips she heard a clinking noise behind her, and the four men all scampered off in the direction of the tavern. Ysolda turned around to find a large cloaked silhouette holding an axe directly behind her. She screamed.
"No, no! Do not be afraid, it is only Mo'aksa! He has come to see you!" The figure knelt down and held Ysolda's hands. From this position the moonlight was able to catch his light fur and eyes.
"Mo'aksa? What are you doing here?" she asked. He was about to respond when a guard appeared from behind them and held a sword up at Mo'aksa.
"Halt! Unhand that woman, beast!" Mo'aksa looked down at the sword with curiosity in his eyes. He turned to look at Ysolda and then was finally hit with the realization that the guard probably thought he was attacking her. He let go of her and stood back a few paces, holding his empty hands up.
"Mo'aksa did not mean to scare her, he is only here for business," he said, a nervous smile on his face.
"It's true, sir, this is one of my clients. But boy did he give me a fright!" said Ysolda with a laugh. She reached her hands out to lower the guard's sword, but the guard only pushed her aside and closed in on Mo'aksa.
"Wait, is this one a Khajiit? If he's here for business, he should know that the traders aren't welcome inside the city. He has to go." Mo'aksa and Ysolda exchanged tense looks.
"No no, he's not from the caravans, he's just a traveler. He's by himself and completely harmless!" said Ysolda, stepping between the sword and Mo'aksa. The guard looked at Ysolda's tiny body in front of the massive beast-man behind her and only raised his sword higher.
"Doesn't matter, these Khajiit always bring trouble. He's not welcome here, so step aside." Ysolda turned her head up to Mo'aksa, who seemed to still be processing the situation.
"That's not the law, you can't-" Ysolda was cut short by Mo'aksa, who rested his hand on her shoulder.
"No no, it is alright. I'll wait outside the walls," he said. Ysolda looked confused, but stepped out of the way as the guard followed Mo'aksa all the way to the front gate, holding his sword up to his back the entire time. Ysolda followed close behind, crossing her arms as they walked down the dusty stonework.
When they made it to the gate, the guard let Mo'aksa and Ysolda out and then shut the wooden threshold firmly. The pair walked further down the road to a small creek just outside the walls. In the moonlight the water seemed to sparkle, and the crisp night air was exceedingly refreshing. Ysolda knelt on a stone at the bank of the creek and Mo'aksa sat down with his feet in the water.
"Sorry about that. Most folks in Skyrim aren't too keen on having visitors from other lands. You know how it is," said Ysolda with a sigh. She stuck a hand in the water and felt the icy coldness of it. "But I wasn't expecting to see you at this time of night. What are you doing here?"
"Ah, apologies. Sometimes Mo'aksa forgets that other people rest at this time," he said. Ysolda cocked her head in confusion. "Sleeping prey make for easy targets," he explained. "Speaking of sleeping, the tree had filled its tapper, so khajiit thought it would be good to bring the sap to you now." He pulled out a jug with a cork in the top, the liquid inside giving off a faint purple glow.
"By the nine, Mo'aksa! It's a good thing the guards didn't search you!" Ysolda quickly grabbed the jug and hid it behind her. "If they had found that on you, you'd have been banned from the city or jailed. I thought you were a smart guy, what happened?" He scratched at his cheek awkwardly.
"Sorry sorry, it was a poorly considered plan. Mo'aksa just… isn't used to the nord way," he said. He turned away in embarrassment, the light catching a bit of the luster of his fur. Ysolda sighed.
"When I met you it seemed like you were experienced in handling trades. Was I wrong about that?"
"I am not a caravaner, like the others, if that is what you are asking," he replied, turning back to her. "But Mo'aksa is always fetching rare things for coin."
"Look, you can't just show up out of nowhere in the middle of the night like this. I don't have anything to conceal this sap in, much less the money to pay you. I need to make arrangements for those sorts of things ahead of time, so you need to give me some notice. Send a letter or something next time, understand?" Mo'aksa nodded and took the sap back into his bag. "How about we meet right here tomorrow afternoon, ok? I'll bring your gold and we can make the exchange then."
"Can we not meet inside the city?" he asked quietly. Ysolda only sighed and shook her head, tossing a stone into the creek.
"Khajiit aren't welcome in most cities in Skyrim. Even the trade caravans have to sell their wares outside the walls." Mo'aksa kicked his feet in the water, frustrated. "Right now everyone is afraid of outsiders. Unfortunately that means the worst of the stereotypes come rising to the surface, even if they aren't true," she continued. She turned to look at him. He had seemed energetic when he came to see her in the city, but by now his features had drooped in disappointment and the weight of his travels seemed to finally be taking their toll. "Do you have a place to stay?"
At this, Mo'aksa's ears perked up for a moment. He seemed to start to say something, but instead turned his head away. "It is as you say, Mo'aksa is not welcome in the towns. He has been camping in the plains for many weeks now." He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. "But the air here is so clear. Mo'aksa does not mind. The moons are so beautiful in this land." Ysolda watched as his expression grew wistful.
"I've always loved the northern lights. They say you can't see them if you go further south. Is that true?" she asked. Mo'aksa nodded and pointed to some shining stars off in the distance.
"If not for the moons, khajiit would forget he was even on Mundus." His claw traced the outline of the large red moon, Masser, and then looped around to the smaller moon, Secunda, in a sort of figure-eight motion. He continued, "Khajiit are bound to the Ja-Kha'Jay, the Lunar Lattice as it is called in your tongue. We are all born the same, but depending on the position of the moons when we are born, we grow differently."
Ysolda nodded, her eyes wide. "That's incredible. I had heard there were different kinds of Khajiit, but I didn't know they were connected to the moons like that. We don't mind the moons much around here, sometimes I forget they're even there," she said with a laugh. Mo'aksa smiled at her and then turned back to the night sky.
"There are not such bright lights as these where Mo'aksa is from. He lived in a dusty place where one cannot always see the sky." Ysolda listened closely, eager to hear about the lands she had not visited. His eyes grew somewhat forlorn as he continued. "Mo'aksa likes it here. It is so clear, one can see forever."
"Is that really true?" said Ysolda, abruptly. Mo'aksa tore away from his trailing thoughts and looked, startled, at Ysolda. She blushed. "Sorry, I suppose that was out of turn."
"Ah, well, perhaps. But khajiit does not blame you. Mo'aksa does like it here, but he misses home at times.'' He scratched at his ear and turned away from Ysolda. "Apologies, to think of home pains Mo'aksa for he misses it greatly."
"Right, sorry." Ysolda looked in the opposite direction, embarrassed. Suddenly, she remembered something and flicked her head back around. "Actually, if you're missing your people, maybe you'd like to speak with one?" Mo'aksa turned to her, with a guarded but inquisitive expression. "There's a caravan that stops outside of Whiterun every two weeks. They should be back here in a few days, and I think they'd be happy to meet another of their kind so far from their homeland."
Mo'aksa paused for a while and fiddled with the folds of his cloak. "Mo'aksa cannot stay for long. He must follow the prey, after all." Ysolda squinted at him and grinned mischievously.
"You're really a terrible liar, you know that?" Mo'aksa appeared startled, his face flushing at her remark. "Are you the reserved type? The type that gets anxious when meeting new people?"
"W-well, no, ah, you see… um…." he fumbled over his words. Ysolda pondered for a moment if her description was really accurate, recalling how confident he was when they had first met back at the market. But before she had much time to draw her own conclusions, Mo'aksa said, rather defeatedly, "Yes, it is true. Mo'aksa is often nervous near new people." Ysolda giggled, and then rested a hand on his leg.
"Don't worry about it, you don't have to meet the caravaners if you don't want to. I just thought it might make you happy." Mo'aksa smiled, though his brow was furrowed.
"Thank you, it was a kind thought," he said. Ysolda stood up and brushed the dust off of herself. Mo'aksa followed suit, shivering a bit as a gust of wind blew past them. "Are you not cold? Your arms are exposed, yet you do not shake in the slightest!"
"I'm a Nord, of course I'm not cold. They say Nords have ice in their blood, cause we live in the tundra. I'd think someone with fur wouldn't mind a little breeze," she replied with a laugh. She stretched her arms out and yawned. "It's getting late, I think I ought to head back inside. But I'll be out here tomorrow afternoon with your gold, alright?"
Mo'aksa nodded. "By the way, some new giants moved into the cave where the tree is. Mo'aksa had to dodge them to collect the sap."
"Yeah, for some reason the giants really love that camp. I wonder if they aren't drawn to the sap themselves. Maybe I should open up a market to them!" she said, chuckling. "Do me a favor and don't kill them this time, alright?"
"Why not?" asked Mo'aksa.
"Having a couple giants living by the tree deters visitors. It's like a free guard for the tree, meaning fewer people will go after it. That keeps the sap that I sell in high demand." She said with a greedy glint in her eyes.
"Well, sneaking around giants is even more dangerous than hunting them. I'll have to tack on an extra 10 gold fee for this…" he said, his mouth curling into a grin.
"You want to be paid more for not killing the giants? I don't get your logic," laughed Ysolda. "Keep pushing it, and I'll hire someone else," she said with a playful jab. Mo'aksa laughed with her as they walked together back towards the gate. The guards opened the wooden doors for Ysolda, who waved happily as she crossed through. Mo'aksa remained on the other side, smiling as she walked off.
He turned and started making way towards his camp out in the plains. From behind him, Mikael and his drunk friends watched through the closing gate.
Mikael's joyful expression quickly soured as he watched Ysolda walk off happily from her meeting with the Khajiiti stranger. He took another swig of his mead, keeping his eyes on the red-haired maiden as she went into the residential district. His friends all said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, but Mikael remained in his spot, looking back and forth at the gate and at Ysolda. He took a final sip of his mead and then dropped the bottle in the street. He gave it a kick, and then shuffled back home.
~Chapter 3 END~