Time passed, and the excitement faded with it. As much as the kidnapping was a source of worry, it was a worry that was all too common for the world that John found himself in.

Soon enough, it was back to work. While the Dragonborn had left the guard contingent, she had also given him an unspoken request to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Thankfully, nothing had happened, and by the time that John figured it was alright to relax for a while, it had already been a month.

The air had gotten a bit hotter, or as much as it could be in Skyrim, as the month had gone on. According to Alvor, the current month was Midyear. And as much as John had initially thought that he had been joking, it turned out that the month in the middle of the year really was just called Midyear.

It was strange, if he thought about it. Despite being an entire world away, the calendar and time measuring was still the same. Twelve months, that split into four weeks with seven days each, each day being twenty four hours, with the same hours, minutes, and seconds.

Moments like those, he would go back and think that maybe this really was just one big practical joke.

Then, he would remember the children, the townsfolk, and everything he had done so far.

None of that could've been fake. His past life had taught him to see past false niceties, of acted personalities, and it told John that these people were genuine through and through.

For the second time in his life, John felt well and truly good.


A crunch.

John stilled.

A shuffling of the bushes.

Slowly, carefully, John turned. A bow in hand, he carefully drew it back. His target was around a couple meters away, none the wiser to the danger.

A meaty thunk as his arrow sunk into his target's neck. He watched as it flailed, blood pouring from the wound. Life ebbed away, even as John's features were decidedly neutral.

Soon, the body stopped moving. With a sigh, John approached it. With a grunt, he pulled it up, wheezing slightly at the weight. Shifting his leg forward, he started to walk, a soft smile on his face at the catch he had managed.

A deer. A doe, to be precise. A good kill, and plenty of meat to go around. He didn't know how the same animal had gotten here, similar to how he didn't know about the calendar, but he certainly wasn't complaining.

Trudging through the forest that surrounded Riverwood though? After a sudden rain had turned the ground into mud? He would certainly complain about that, even if in the privacy of his own mind.

Still, the current weather should fix that soon enough. With Midyear in full spring, the farmers were working hard to ensure that their harvest wasn't ruined. Temperature really was a killer in Skyrim, with the days being either too hot or too cold for most crops to grow.

Already, John had taken up jobs to help a couple of farmers to water their fields. While not overly difficult, it was tedious, and he was already wishing for the modern convenience of a tractor.

After another ten minutes of trekking through the mud, he had finally gotten clear of the forest proper. He was north of the town, with the stone bridge that connected the two sides of the river in clear view. He leisurely made his way across, spotting more than one villager on the way to Whiterun. They gave him a wave, one he returned as they passed each other.

He arrived at the Sleeping Giant to little to no fanfare. That was fine by him, it was still fairly early in the day. He would've been more shocked had he found the inn already packed.

"Ah, there you are." Delphine came out from one of the side rooms, broom in hand, "Put it down over here. I'll skin it myself."

With a nod, John did so, walking over to the back and placing the deer gently on the table. He didn't ask if Delphine needed more help - the woman would ask if she did. Moreover, he was fairly certain that she would do a better job at skinning the deer.

He knew a lot, but most of his skills tended to be for utilitarian purposes, not for food preparation.

"Seems to be a clean kill. Here's your pay." She handed him a good fifty Septims, "Oh, and before I forget, there's a message for you. Courier delivered it while you were gone. Might want to read it, it looks important."

With a raised eyebrow, John picked up the small piece of parchment that Delphine pointed out. True to her word, the letter was sealed in red wax, with an insignia that John thought to be the coat of arms of Whiterun.

Discreetly, he felt around the sides for anything suspicious. It wouldn't be the first time someone would've tried to kill him by packing poison inside a letter. Thankfully, nothing of the sort came up, though that didn't mean much in a world full of magic.

Carefully, he opened the letter, ready to throw it at the first sign of trouble.

Delphine gave him a small nod of understanding as she watched the entire scene unfold.

When nothing happened for a minute, John felt confident in finally reading through the letter.

The letter was short and to the point, signed with the name of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, the ruler of Whiterun Hold. It mentioned that a matter of great importance required John's presence in Whiterun. While the letter didn't specify the exact nature of this importance, it was clear that it was an official summons from the city's leader.

John's brow furrowed as he read the message. The Jarl himself was requesting his presence, which meant it was likely a matter of some significance. He folded the letter back up and tucked it into his pocket, turning to face Delphine.

"I've been summoned by Jarl Balgruuf," John said, his voice even and composed. "Looks like I'll be heading to Whiterun."

Delphine raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "That's not something to be taken lightly. The Jarl doesn't summon just anyone. Be cautious, John."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "I always am."

John exited the Sleeping Giant Inn. The sun was still high in the sky, but that didn't mean much. The journey to Whiterun would take at least two days. He would need to gather supplies, and possibly a horse.

As he walked through to Lucius' store, he couldn't help but wonder just why the Jarl would want to meet him of all people. The thought of being known to anyone high enough in the ladder never even crossed his mind. He certainly hadn't done anything noteworthy to catch the attention of the Jarl.

Or, at least, he didn't think he'd done anything.

John pondered the situation as he entered Lucius' store. The familiar smell of various goods greeted him as he looked around, his mind still churning over the unexpected summons. Lucius, the elderly merchant, looked up from where he was organizing a shelf and gave John a warm smile.

"John! What can I do for you today?" Lucius asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I'm heading to Whiterun on official business for Jarl Balgruuf," John replied, getting straight to the point. "I'll need supplies for the journey."

Lucius' smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of concern. "The Jarl himself, you say? Sounds important."

John nodded. "That's what it seems like. I'm not sure what it's about, but I'd rather be prepared for anything."

Lucius set down the item he was holding, a comically large cheese wheel, and went to gather the supplies John would need. He packed food rations, a waterskin, a bedroll, and a few other essentials. As he handed them over to John, he spoke in a low voice.

"Be cautious, John. Whiterun can be a dangerous place, especially for those who attract attention. If the Jarl has called for you, it's likely because he believes you can handle whatever is at hand. But still, keep your wits about you."

John took the supplies, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you, Lucius. I'll keep that in mind." He moved to hand over the payment, before Lucius waved him off.

"Go on, it's on the house today. Carmilla would kill me if I made you pay with how much Riverwood owes you. Next time though..." Lucius gave him a grin, and John gave a chuckle and a nod.

Alvor's was next. The path to Whiterun, while relatively safe, was still teeming with the occasional wildlife and brigand, by virtue of the forest being right along it. He would need at least a weapon other than the bow he had.

John made his way to Alvor's blacksmith shop, the familiar clang of metal on metal ringing through the air. Alvor, the village blacksmith, was hard at work, tending to a red-hot piece of steel on his anvil. He looked up as John entered, a friendly smile spreading across his face.

"John! What can I do for you today?" Alvor asked, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"I'm heading to Whiterun on official business for Jarl Balgruuf," John replied, echoing his earlier statement to Lucius, "I'll need-"

He was cut off by Alvor, "Say no more." He fetched a well-crafted steel sword from a rack and handed it over to John.

"Here you go, John. Fine piece of work, if I do say so myself. Should serve you well on your journey."

John took the sword, feeling its weight and balance in his hand. It was a good weapon, finely forged. He nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, Alvor. This will come in handy. How much?"

"Nothing, my friend," Alvor said with a grin. "Consider it a gift for all you've done for Riverwood. Just be sure to keep it sharp, and it'll serve you well. Oh, and say goodbye to the children before you go, would you?"

"I will. And thank you again."

"Don't mention it." Alvor paused before a laugh bubbled out, "Actually, do mention it a lot! Free advertising and all that!"

John shared in the laugh, before turning around and leaving with a wave.

Wandering through the busy streets of Riverwood, he eventually found the two children, along with the now healed Stump, playing near the guard post. After the incident, the people of Riverwood had agreed to always have someone watching them, despite the pair's propensity to hide anywhere they could. Right now, it seemed that it was Faendal's turn.

"John!" It was Dorthe that saw him first, "Are you going somewhere?" She peeked behind him, seeing the pack of supplies hanging off of him. With a nod, he shifted to get down on one knee, looking at the two of them in the eyes. Idly, he pet Stump as he came up to sniff John.

"Yeah. I'll be going to Whiterun for a bit."

"Can we join?" Frodnar held a wooden sword in his hand, and he pointed it up in a manner that he likely thought made him look tough. Chuckling, John shook his head.

"No can do kids. I don't think your parents will allow me."

"Awww…" The both of them groaned out loud, pouting in the way only children could. Stump joined in with a bark.

"Now now, I'll make sure to bring some souvenirs." John held out his hands in a placating manner.

"You better!"

"Just promise me that the two of you'll be on your best behavior, alright?" He made brief eye contact with Faendal, who nodded at the unspoken request.

"We promise!" The two children chorused. Standing up, John ruffled their hair and bid one more farewell. Soon enough he was on the road to Whiterun.


Strictly speaking, he didn't really need to do all that. John could've lived off the land, and had enough expertise to fend off wolves and bandits with a knife.

No, the supplies were never the real goal for doing all of that. It was all about the people and saying goodbye. He didn't know how long he would be gone, and saying his goodbyes was a way to inadvertently imply that to the adults.

More than that, he owed the people of Riverwood that much, at the very least.

For the longest time, before and after Helen, John had been alone. He had allies, true. Friends that he could call upon should he need their help. But none of them were like Riverwood.

In Riverwood, he wasn't John Wick, retired assassin. No, he was just John, a man that had dropped in and helped them when they needed it.

For the first time in a long time, John felt like he belonged. He had no real obligations, no reputation that put off people from associating with him.

It was a breath of fresh air.

And now, he was leaving that. For a while, at least. The road to Whiterun stretched out before John, the familiar landscape of Skyrim surrounding him.

With each step, he prepared himself for whatever awaited him in Whiterun.


Commissioned by: brutalcrab

A/N: If you like what I do and want to support me, check out my P-atreon at P-atreon•com(slash)Almistyor.

And a special thanks to: Oliver vazquez, brutalcrab, and Tassimo.