Sundas 14th of Heartfire 4E201 Late Evening

Delphine

This cold will be the death of me, I swear.

I stamp my boots, trying to waken my numb feet, and get as close to the hearth as I can without falling into it. I'd forgotten how damn snowy Eastmarch was, even this early in the season. Twelve forfend we ever have to visit Winterhold; I'd likely turn into an icicle. Really makes me miss Cyrodiil. Sure, they had their chilly areas up north, but the cold here just sets into your bones like the icy hand of death.

"Anything I can get for you?"

I pull my cloak closer around me and turn to the barmaid. Mara's tits, how is she not freezing with that much uncovered? "Thanks, but my companion has me covered. Should be back with some Ashfire Mead soon."

"Sure thing. Name's Susanna. I'm only a whistle away if you need me, beauty." She winks at me before turning and sashaying away, to my amusement, and the stares of more than one man in the room. Now there's a dangerous woman. Or would be if she was anything more than a blonde barmaid with very… gifted assets. Well, I suppose it's good that not everyone in the province has the spectre of war looming over them. Speaking of that mead, though.

With a reluctant sigh, I leave my comfortable fireside chair and go in search of Talao downstairs. With our luck, he was tailed by a Thalmor assassin and caught with his pants down, or something equally unfortunate. More likely he got caught up in a skirt. Either way, I wanted my damn drink.

"Pardon me!?" Huh. I didn't know Talao could raise his voice that loudly.

"Just… just a friendly bit of advice, traveller. At the bottom of the stairs, I can finally see Talao with two mugs in his grasp, glaring at the innkeeper - Elda, I think her name was - looking like she'd just eaten a lemon. I can tell Talao is angrier than his words; his knuckles are white on the drinks and his eyes are narrowed at at Elda.

"Paranoid racist delusions about mer are what you consider advice? You force them into slums, threaten them nightly, deny them labour, and you still imagine more ways to vilify refugees fleeing for survival?"

"Now listen here; this is my-"

"Tell me, is't only Dunmer that receive this treatment, or is anyone that is not of Nord blood? How much mer blood must needs a man have before he finds himself unwelcome at your establishment? Shall I sleep with my feet out the window for being a Breton?"

Wow. He's really pissed. "Talao-" I say, trying to cut him off, but he's so busy laying into the poor cowering woman, he's either unaware or uncaring that the entire room is shaking.

"Be glad I have already paid for food and lodging here, else you would have lost a customer to the New Gnisis Cornerclub! Pahlok nikriin!"

"Talao!"

"What, Delphine?!"

I give him my strongest 'not impressed' face and say, "I've been waiting for that mead for five minutes. Stop terrorizing that poor innkeep before you bring every guard in Windhelm down on us." I grab my drink from his hand and growl "Upstairs. Now!"

Thankfully, he doesn't talk while we settle back in front of the hearth upstairs. Once I can feel my toes again, I say, "Insulting and threatening the owner of an in in the middle of a city of rebellious warmongers is a damn fool thing to do."

"She was a bigoted-"

"No shit, Talao! Of course she is! Julianos preserve me." Our voices are intense, but still quiet enough to avoid being overheard. I hope. "Welcome to Windhelm, bard. If you didn't want to deal with racists, we could have made camp in the tundra and gotten frostbite instead. Did you think their rallying cry of 'Skyrim is for the Nords' wasn't exclusionary? Just because they're mostly racist against high elves doesn't mean they're accepting of everyone else, as you should know considering, I don't know, their war against the Empire? Not to mention yelling in the middle of one of the capitols of the province is not the best way to keep a Low. Profile! Let alone Shouting at someone."

He frowns at that. "I didn't Shout at her… Did I?"

"The whole damn building was shaking, Talao. And you slipped into what I assume is dragon language at the end. While I get the temptation, unless you want to end up like Ulfric, on the run from the Empire, you can't just Shout people down when you disagree with them."

"I don't consider a moral failing a simple disagreement. One must always oppose irrational hatred, for the good of those incapable of defending themselves." There's a moment of silence before he says, "I should have gone back to the Greybeards."

The sheer twist of the topic change throws me long enough for him to continue, "I feel it within me, Delphine. This gift, this blessing," he spits out the word like a curse. "I tried not using it, but the urge just gets stronger with every passing minute, ever since that first dragon. Mirmulniir. He wasn't resurrected. He'd been hiding since the 2nd era, alone for centuries. The 2nd era, Delphine. And he was already ancient by then. And then I absorbed his… soul, or his energy, I know not exactly what it is I do. Not everything he was or knew, but enough. Centuries, millennia, snuffed out like that," he says dispassionately, with a snap of his fingers.

This man just keeps on leaving me speechless, but I know I have to say something. "You shouldn't blame yourself for that, Talao. For defending yourself, and Whiterun. You can't. You didn't know what would happen."

"I absorbed another one. Last week. Had you heard?" I shake my head. "I suppose the Stormcloaks can keep intel secret after all. It was only a week ago, and I was heading to Riverwood from Morthal after receiving your message. 'Cloaks stopped my carriage, trying to sniff out Thalmor or Imperials, when a dragon swooped down out of the blue. A few score arrows later and the corpse disintegrated in front of them all, as I absorbed it. They invited us to camp with them that night, to celebrate. But all I could think about was how it was already easier than had been Mirmulniir. I did not even learn the name of that dragon, for all the energy I took. And the urge just grows; scratching the itch only makes it stronger once it returns. I only hope I can hold it off long enough to return to the Greybeards."

I don't know how to respond. In a way, I feel bad, since I'm unilaterally the reason he's here instead of with the Greybeards. But I'm also absolutely certain that he needs to be here for this, for us to find out the truth of this matter, and to ensure his ability and his standpoint on everything. Unfortunately, my reflection is cut short.

"You. Aye, you! You were the one yelling downstairs earlier, huh?" A burly Nord with unfortunate facial hair and an even more unfortunate smell of alcohol, points at Talao, slurring his words. "You a dark elf lover? Get out of our city, you filthy piece of trash."

Wonderful. "Watch it, friend," I say, narrowing my eyes. "Neither of us are in the mood for your drivel."

His face, already red from being terrifically drunk, darkens a few shades. "Drivel? Do you know who I am? Rolff Stone-Fist, son of Gunmar Stone-Fist, right hand of Ulfric Stormcloak. Don't like it? Too bad! This is our city! Ours!"

"Stone-Fist? More like Stone-Head. Stendarr's Mercy, is there a single person in this town who isn't a rabid bigot?" And there goes Talao, instigating again.

"Better that than a parasite, milk-drinker," Rolff spits. "They're living in our city, under our protection, but what do they do for us? Nothing! Imperial spies, I bet, the lot of them." By this point, I'm a bit concerned. We've attracted our fair share of attention at this point. Nobody else in the tavern is defending him, but they certainly aren't shutting him up either. Whether they're just immune to his ramblings or secretly supportive, who can tell, but if it comes to the blows he seems so desperate for… I'd love to try to defuse the situation, but Talao just keeps finding buttons to press

"That's your big conspiracy? That all the Dunmer refugees are spies?"

"Wouldn't surprise me. They've done nothing to help in the fight for Skyrim's freedom. Those Thalmor are elves too. I bet they're working together. Maybe I should round up some men and take us a few prisoners to interrogate."

At that chilling declaration, I see Talao's eyes burn. "Mind your tongue, cur. Lest someone cut it out for wagging too much." Aaaaand now he's even more pissed than he was at the inkeeper. Great. Just great. Maybe I shouldn't have forced him on this trip after all.

"And who's gonna do that, you? A hundred septims says I can punch you back to High Rock."

"Talao," I mutter, "What part of 'staying low' that I mentioned do you think involves a tavern brawl?"

He waves me off dismissively as he stands, and I mentally give up forever. If he wants a beating that badly, let him. "You're certain this is a smart idea, Stone-Head? Win or lose, you'll not look particularly good fighting a cripple."

"Shut up and put your money where you mouth is, so I can punch it!"

"Was that meant to intimidate me, Stone-Head?" With that insult, the Nord gave a loud yell and threw a wild haymaker at Talao. He does, fortunately, manage to duck under it. Not nimbly, but effectively, at least, while continuing to taunt the Nord. "Was that a punch, or are you merely stumbling about?"

"Shut it!" The 'fight,' if you could call it that, is sad, honestly. Talao clearly has no innate skill with brawling, and his dodging of the Nord's attacks look as much like drunk stumbling thanks to his impairment. But this Rolff fellow is just so drunk that it doesn't seem to matter at all. "Stand still, ya half-blood!"

Talao avoids another lunge, stepping to the side. "Come now, Rolff. You're the son of Ulfric's right hand man. Where's that Stormcloak superiority that you were touting a minute hence? Or is there a reason you in particular are stuck here at home instead of out on the battlefield? Coward or disappointment, that's the question."

Well, that's getting personal, and I don't like the look some of the patrons are throwing Talao's way now. "Talao, that's enough!" I yell over another wordless shout from the Nord.

But he either ignores me or doesn't care, panting heavily and backing away from a swiftly advancing Rolff. "Why not both, no, Stone-Head? Too weak and too yellow to follow in father's footsteps. You are a disgrace, Rolff, in every way. And to make up for your deficiencies, your incapability, you scream, and threaten innocent folk for naught more than the color of their skin, as though they were responsible for the failure that is your life! KOS VOD!"

By Oblivion, Talao. Had I not known exactly what he did, it would be easy to miss the power inlaid in those last two words, as he Shouted at the Nord, who retreats for half a dozen steps, eyes open wide in fear. Talao, for his part, stops just as suddenly, I assume realizing his stupidity, even as Rolff regains what little wit he possesses, and - eyes full of rage - charges at Talao, screaming, "I'll kill you, you bastard!"

Cursing inside, I try to stand and intervene, but before I can, another Nord who'd been watching is there. He sweeps Rolff's feet out from under him, who goes face-first into the floor with a howl of pain. "Don't be an idiot, Rolff," he says, dragging the pain-wracked Nord off the ground. "Gunmar can barely keep you out of prison with your drunken brawls. He can't and won't save your ass from a murder charge."

"But I - "

"Don't even. Go home and sleep it off, I'll make sure these two are gone tomorrow." Given that he stands a solid foot taller than Rolff, and twice as heavy, he easily hauls the Nord toward and out the door.

Thankfully, this seems to break the tension in the room, as folks go back to their drinks and bet money changes hands, while the man comes back with Talao, both sitting in front of the hearth. "Thanks for the help…"

"Stenvar," he says genially, shaking my hand. He's an absolute ox of a man, thick as a tree trunk, with a shaved head, but surprisingly not as prickly as his appearance might suggest. "Mercenary. I've been in Windhelm for a while, long enough to be familiar with Rolff's rants. Most here are just too chicken shit to tell Gunmar's kid to screw off, so he gets away with it a bit too often. I wouldn't be too harsh with your friend," he glances over at Talao, who looks much less lively than I've seen him before. "Once Rolff gets started, not much can stop him from throwing a punch."

"He was certainly itching for a fight, that's for sure," I say.

"As I said. While he clearly speaks for some people, I promise you he doesn't speak for every Nord, not even every Nord in Windhelm."

"Certainly," Talao finally says, though his visage hasn't really changed. "Well, while I doubt the rest of the evening could possibly been as or more interesting, I do believe I shall turn in for the night, to avoid any other potentially disastrous confrontations." He stands, hesitates for a moment before he says, "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, Delphine," and then leaves, with more than a few eyes following him out. Well, everyone knows we're here now.

"Interesting guy," Stenvar says, also watching Talao leave. "You two are leaving tomorrow, right? I doubt any real trouble will come of this, especially with Gunmar out on a campaign right now, but I'm sure you're aware that someone like Rolff can make your lives annoying if he really wants to."

I nod, a plan forming in my mind already. "It was ever our intention to only stay one night. We have… business to attend to the south."

"Business, eh? Well, I've been meaning to get out of this frozen hellscape for a while; hardly anyone around looking to hire a merc. Locals don't leave, and traffic to the rebellion's city is slow to non-existent. Say I tagged along with you south… What kind of business you up to?"

Well, two swords and a dragonborn is better than one sword and a dragonborn. "What are your thoughts on killing dragons?"

Just as Uthgerd followed the Nord Pantheon, Delphine follows the Breton pantheon, hence her statement of "twelve forfend." I find the different racial pantheons of Tamriel a very interesting concept that the recent games simply ignore for simplicity. Talao is rather single-minded in his worship of Y'ffre, though.

PAHLOK NIKRIIN - Arrogant coward

KOS VOD - Be gone

Talao's grasp of dovah is essentially a very verbose toddler at the moment. He knows some words, but not really how to converse in it, except in moments of extreme emotion when the dragon's blood runs hot. This will be very relevant next chapter.