Bretagne held the inkpot up to her eye, then tipped it over. Not so much as a drop. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the pot and bone-dry quill onto the table/desk she shared with the Harbinger.
I suppose I'm going shopping today, she thought, dismayed.
Grabbing her purse, a cute little velvet thing, she was almost out the door when Torvar stopped her: "Where d'ya think yer goin'?" he slurred.
"Uh, to the shoppes? I'm out of ink."
"Nuh uh," he said, folding his arms. "Not by yerself, ya ain't. Gotta take somebody with ya."
"Excuse me?" Bretagne frowned quizzically. "I don't need a chaperon to buy ink."
Torvar shrugged. "I don't make the rules." Just then, he saw Njada passing by and yanked on her arm. "Here, Njada's just goin' inna town, weren't ya, Njada?"
"No I was–"
"She'll go with ya!"
The Imperial woman jerked her arm out of his grasp. "What the fuck is this?"
"Bret here needs a guide." Torvar gave Njada a knowing look that was lost on Bretagne, and when the Breton wasn't looking, he mouthed "your turn."
Njada rolled her eyes, then sighed. The resigned, annoyed look on her face suggested an obligation to do so. "Fine."
"Are you sure?" Bretagne asked. "I don't want to put you out."
"Might as well get shit done while I'm at it. Now let's go," Njada spat.
.
Might be nice to have someone help, Bretagne thought as she and her "guide" made their way into the Plains District. Indeed, Bretagne was still relatively new to the city and had had no reason to go shopping. In fact, she hadn't left Jorrvaskr hardly at all since she arrived. She had to admit, she was intensely curious to see what the city of Whiterun had to offer.
Once the two women made it into the town center, Njada spoke up and pointed to the various buildings. "Arcadia's the apothecary, she sells herbs and crap. Belethor's probably got ink. There ain't nothin' for you at Warmaiden's, so don't go there. And stay away from the inns. I gotta go to the guard barracks. Meet you back at Jorrvaskr." And with that very abbreviated tour, she turned on her heel and headed briskly down the street, leaving Bretagne slightly disoriented and confused.
"All right, I guess I'm going to Belethor's," she said flatly. "By myself."
.
The general goods store seemed cozy enough, with a large fire pit on the southeast wall and a long counter out front. All the tables and shelves and dressers were full of odds and ends, from bowls and tongs to pelts and antlers. Bretagne startled when she saw a troll skull staring back at her from above.
"Welcome to Belethor's General Goods," the shopkeeper, presumably Belethor himself, called out. "Welcome, indeed."
Bretagne pretended not to notice the leering stare and suggestive tone, and busied herself looking at the shop's wares. She held up an ornately-cast flagon. "Is this for sale?"
"Everything's for sale, my friend. Everything. If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second. I'd even buy one of your relatives, if you're looking to sell!" Belethor guffawed. "Ha ha ha... That's a little joke."
"Oh," Bretagne squeaked, embarrassed. "Of course." She quickly turned away, scanning frantically for writing supplies, when a beautiful pendant caught her eye. Gods, this has got to be expensive, she thought, gently fiddling with the chain. Why is it out here with everything else, and not locked up behind the counter?
Carefully returning the necklace to the shelf, her eye caught another display. "Ooh, candle-making supplies?" She picked up a brick of wax, considered it, set it down, went and got a basket, came back, and put it in the basket. Oh, and of course I'll need wicks. But could I really use all these myself? she wondered. But then she saw some baker's twine and burlap and had another idea. "Oh, these would make perfect gifts for everyone at Jorrvaskr!"
One very full basket later, she went to the counter to pay. Upon closer inspection, Bretagne realized that Belethor was a Breton, just like her. Before she could stop herself, she asked him about it. "What brings a Breton to Skyrim?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, tallying up her purchases. "Why, the wonderful weather and hospitable people, of course! Not to mention my great fondness for bandits and petty political power struggles. Ah, but without a doubt, the most compelling feature of this frozen wasteland is the volley of inane questions leveled at me on a regular basis."
Bretagne blinked–it took her a moment to realize he just insulted her, and immediately regretted asking. "Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure your customers love shopping here! It's a lovely store," she hastily added, trying to smooth over the awkward bitterness while counting coins.
Belethor took the change and slid the invoice over for her to sign. "I can tell you're a discriminating customer," he said, squinting at her. "I assure you, I'm prepared to make any deal." As Bretagne slid back the paper and quill, he put his hand over hers, looking her straight in the eyes. "Any. Deal."
Bretagne just simply nodded and smiled, anything to avoid upsetting this man, and awkwardly bid her good-byes, hugging her giant basket tight.
"Do come back…" he cooed as she left.
.
Shaking out a disturbed shiver, Bretagne left the general goods store and quickly made her way next door to Arcadia's. She hadn't spent that long inside, so Njada likely wasn't done yet. Might as well do some window shopping while I'm out.
The scent of freshly cut flowers and medicinal tonics greeted her upon opening the door. The woman behind the counter, probably in her late thirties or early forties with reddish blonde hair, welcomed her in. "You'll find tonics, salves, poultices and potions on my shelves. Browse to your heart's content. If there's anything I can help you with, you have but to ask."
"Oh, thank you," Bretagne said. "I'm just looking for some lavender, maybe some snowberry. You wouldn't happen to have any that's dried, would you?"
"Why, yes, I do, actually." Arcadia rummaged around behind the counter. "What are you working on, if I might ask? Restoration, stamina, toxins?"
"Um… candles."
"Oh, I'd recommend the oils, then." Arcadia led her over to a cabinet full of little bottles of varying colors. "They work better for wax than the dried stuff. Also great for soap."
Suddenly it was like a light appeared over Bretagne's head. "Soap you say?"
.
Thankfully, Arcadia was nice enough to let Bretagne stow away her purchases behind the counter while she perused the rest of the city center, because she really didn't want to carry all those things around when she still had shopping to do.
As Bretagne got distracted with the baubles at the jewelry stand, she overheard a redheaded woman mention something about the Khajiit caravan being outside today. Bretagne had always wanted to see a genuine caravan, and had a soft spot for the feline folks, so without hesitation she beelined it to the front gates.
While they were not allowed inside the city (a rule that never made sense to Bretagne), the Khajiit seemed to attract plenty of business regardless. As she approached the bustling tent set-up, a kind Khajiit named Ri'saad greeted her: "Welcome. If I cannot serve you, I am sure that one of my other traders can do so."
There were so many rare ingredients and materials she'd never even heard of before that Bretagne didn't even know where to start. She fondly admired a yellow mountain flower, twirling it between her fingers as she asked the caravanner questions. "So, why sell your goods in Skyrim? It's not exactly the warmest climate."
"An astute question," he said, smiling warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "The wise trader finds the best opportunities, even if he must travel far to find them. Skyrim is a ripe opportunity indeed. The bandits and the war have scared many other traders away, but for those with courage, there is much profit to be made."
Humming contentedly, Bretagne continued to browse the exotic wares, eyes wide with wonder. She moved to a table covered with vibrant textiles, then to a display of rare potions. Eventually she settled upon a small trinket. But as she reached for her coin purse to pay for it, suddenly a force jostled her side, causing her to stumble and drop her purse. "Oh!" Bretagne exclaimed. Both she and a male Khajiit reached for the purse and spilled coins at the same time, their hands brushing against each other.
"Oh, apologies, miss," the Khajiit said, looking at her with concern. "This one was not watching where he was going."
Bretagne smiled awkwardly as she retrieved her purse. "It's quite alright. Just a bit of a surprise."
The Khajiit handed her a loose septim as he stood up and then carefully checked her for injuries, eyes scanning for any signs of harm. "Are you hurt, miss?" he asked, adjusting her shawl that had slipped off her shoulder during the commotion.
"No, I'm fine, thank you," Bretagne replied, feeling a bit flustered by the attention. Just a smidge embarrassed, she admitted to herself as she securely tucked the pouch away. "Who are you?"
"Just a traveler passing through. Apologies if this one startled you. My people step very lightly," the Khajiit responded, his voice soothing.
"Well, apology accepted," Bretagne said, visibly relaxing. "Do you have a name? I'd like to thank you properly."
"No need. My name is too difficult for a Man's tongue, and there's no need for thanks. This one always tries to do the kind and decent thing," the Khajiit said, bowing slightly and stepping back before turning to leave.
"Wait! If you're ever in town again, come find me. I'll buy you a drink!" Bretagne called out as she watched him depart. She watched until he was past the stables and out of sight. "What an… interesting person," she mused to herself.
The Khajiit chuckled as he opened his paw: the necklace and handful of septims he lifted off the woman glinted in the early evening light. "No need, my dear. You just bought this one a few drinks," he whispered to himself.
.
"Wait, wait!" Bretagne shouted at the bottom of the steps. Njada was just about to go into the Companions' hall when she turned and saw their newest (unofficial) member struggling under several baskets and boxes of who-knows-what, performing an impressive balancing act.
"HOLD... whew... hold the door!" Bretagne called out again, but Njada pretended like she didn't hear and went through the doors anyway.
Bretagne dropped nearly everything, including herself, as soon as she crossed the threshold She looked up and saw Njada sitting casually at the long tables, and frowned. Bretagne tried to justify it: perhaps she simply didn't hear me. Dusting off her skirts, she started to gather her newest haul off the floor.
"Wow, did they sell you the whole store?" Athis mocked.
Bretagne blushed and looked away sheepishly. "They were having a sale."
"What is it, anyway?"
"Well, at the general goods store I got some candle wax so I could try making some in different shapes and sizes, and then at the apothecary's I got some lavender and snowberries because I love them, and then I saw that they had some soap making supplies, so I thought I'd try my hand at that," she explained breathlessly. "Oh! And I got some twine and ribbons so I can wrap some up as gifts because I want to make a candle and a bar of soap in everyone's favorite scent for Saturalia."
"Saturalia is months away, though."
"It's never too early to start shopping for the holidays," Bretagne declared, and Athis snickered. "What?"
"And have you thought about where you're gonna put all this?" He gestured to the pile at her feet and in her arms.
Suddenly there was a low growl. "That shit better be gone when I get back," Skjor scolded as he passed by, not even looking up.
Bretagne gulped. "Um, no, I hadn't actually thought that far ahead..."
Njada, having been watching this whole scene unfold, piped up. "Figures someone like you'd be able to fuck up a shopping trip for ink."
"OH SHOOT!" Bretagne exclaimed, then slapped her hand over her mouth. "...I forgot the ink."
"Well," Athis started, "you're in luck. Just finished up on your room. Follow me."
Bretagne left everything at the door and did as he asked, following him to Brill and Vignar's old room. "Plenty of room in here for Saturalia gifts," Athis said.
Bretagne peered through the doorway and realized why it had taken so long: everything had been redone. The entire thing had been repainted, the floors had been refinished, the door trim had been replaced, and an interior wall had been added off to the right-one room was now two.
She stepped in to take a look around, running her hand along the edge of the new writing desk. It was flanked on either side by the same bookshelves, but now they were neatly organized and stocked with books and writing supplies (including ink!). The desk chair was reupholstered in a gorgeous royal purple-red, which matched the new bedspread on the four-poster. On the floor were rich red and gold accent rugs that matched the ones in the main hall, and similar banners and tapestries adorned the walls. It was smaller than before, but now the room felt like a true extension of the mead hall.
"Wow," Bretagne breathed, thoroughly impressed with how it all came together. She wondered who had designed the room because she couldn't imagine any of the Companions being particularly artistic. Perhaps Ria or Aela, she thought. No, no. There aren't nearly enough pelts and animal heads in here.
She cocked her head and motioned to the new interior door. "And, uh, what is this room for?"
"That would be my room, dearie," a voice piped up from the hall. It was Tilma.
"Oh!" Well, it's about time the woman gets her own space, Bretagne thought, what with everything she does around here! "Well, I promise I'm a courteous neighbor," she said with a smile.
"I'm not worried, dear."
Bretagne went over to her new wardrobe and started unpacking her belongings and putting them away.
"Let me know if you need anything," Athis said, and patted the door frame before leaving.
As she neatly folded her clothes to put away, a thought occurred to her. This room…. It really isn't for me, is it? Probably just a coincidence that it's to my taste. Indeed, she only had a few more months at most with the Companions before it was back to Falkreath to start her new life as a married woman. But that was still no reason to live out of a knapsack all that time.
Bretagne sighed. Might as well get comfortable.
Just as she was settling in, there was a commotion at the front door. Peeking out, she saw a pair of Whiterun guards carrying what appeared to be dozens of financial ledgers.
"Where do you want these?" one of them asked.
"Right in there," Njada said, and pointed… straight at Bretagne.
"Wait, what?" Bretagne shook her head. "Njada, what is the meaning of this?"
"Oh, you mean nobody told you?" she said with mock concern. "Yeah, we struck a deal with the Jarl. You get to do the books for the city guard now."
"What?!"
Njada just smirked. "Better get on that."