Faldir left the hidden room, his mind still swirling with what he had overheard. The Dragonborn, Delphine, and their cryptic conversation had left him with more questions than answers. But there was one thing that was crystal clear—he needed to settle the score with the eight bandits, and the youngest among them had made a name for himself in the small village of Yullika.
He walked down the creaky stairs of the Sleeping Giant Inn, his heavy boots making little sound against the wooden floor. As he stepped into the main room, the warmth of the fire and the chatter of the few patrons filled the air, but Faldir's focus was singular. He needed answers, and Orgnar would be the one to provide them.
The barkeep was polishing a mug when Faldir approached the counter, his mask still in place and his hood drawn low. Orgnar glanced up, a knowing look in his eyes, though he said nothing.
"I need to know about the eight bandits," Faldir said, his voice low and firm. "The ones from the Adonist group. Where are they now?"
Orgnar didn't hesitate. He leaned back, letting out a long breath as he crossed his arms. "Ah, those fools. They've scattered, for the most part. But one of 'em, the youngest—Yulmauri, I think his name was—he's taken up residence in a little town called Yullika. Small place, nothing special, but he's managed to rally a few men to his cause. A small army, if you can call it that."
Faldir's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Yulmauri. The young man had always been full of bravado—booze, women, and a knack for stirring up trouble. But to think he had managed to carve out a town for himself… Faldir's jaw tightened.
"Yullika's located in Falkreath Hold, right?" Faldir pressed.
Orgnar nodded. "Aye. Just past the woods, toward the southern edge of Falkreath. It's not easy to get there, but it's a place that attracts people looking for power. He's made a life for himself there, by the looks of it. Can't say I envy him, though."
Faldir gave a terse nod, his eyes narrowing as he turned away. He could feel the weight of what lay ahead—this journey wasn't just about finding Yulmauri, it was about something more. A reckoning. Justice for the betrayal, for the pain, for the men who had abandoned him.
With a quick motion, he pulled his hood up and fastened his mask in place, concealing his face. No one would recognize him, and that was just how he liked it. The journey ahead would be long, but the path was clear. Falkreath. Yullika. And Yulmauri.
Faldir turned to leave the inn, stepping out into the cold morning air. His boots crunched against the snow as he began his trek toward the south, his thoughts consumed by the young bandit who had wronged him. The road would be dangerous, but he was no stranger to danger.
The landscape of Skyrim stretched out before him—wild, untamed, and unforgiving. But Faldir was determined. He would find Yulmauri. He would make him pay. And once he was done, there would be no one left from his past to haunt him.