Hadvar was glad the man next to him was a friend and battle-brother. The look in his eye was pure, calculated, and cold-blooded, murder. He almost felt pity for the Butcher of Helgan. Jon stared at the Worm zig-zagging its way though the sky, roaring all the while in victory. The Worm flew away from Helgan, over a mountain in the distance, and off to conquests unknown. There was little Jon could do about it right now except go to ground. He had to get to the college to learn the power of magic.
"Hey, there's a village a couple hours walk from here. Riverwood. I'm from there." Hadvar broke the concentration of Jon, albeit to his benefit.
"Yeah. Lead the way." Jon said. He was beginning to reach his physical limits from lack of proper sleep, but his military training kept him focused and awake. Even an hour would do if he could spare it. But he couldn't right now. He was still out in the open in a foreign land. A cozy village in the forest, perhaps with an inn, would do.
The men walked down a small path leading to the main road, Hadvar speaking all the while, "Look, ingredients you can pick. Red mountain flowers, good for magika potions. Some snow-berries, good for resist potions. Moria tapia, don't know what it does but its good in a pan. Not really an alchemist. They taught us a couple simple recipes in training. Call em battle-brews, and you don't really brew. You just chew on the right ingredients in an emergency with some water."
"Does it work?" Jon asked, not wanting to be a brick wall. The talk helped keep him awake anyhow.
"If you're lucky. It's nothing compared to a proper potion, and sometimes you get unintended effects. Like I said, emergencies only. Fuck-fuck show, as you say." Hadvar said.
Jon nodded with a smile and they found the main Imperial road leading towards Riverwood, taking a right at the juncture and continuing onward. He heard wolves howling in the distance, and asked "You hear that? Wolves, or at least it sounds like it. Don't know. The goat cheese didn't taste like goat cheese and everything smells wrong."
"I don't, but it probably is. Sounds like a hollow scream, tends to start high and go low?" Hadvar reasoned.
"Yeah. And a bunch call back. Goes on for a while." Jon said.
"Wolves. Their howls carry, so if you with your ears can just hear them then they're still a ways off. They tend to only attack lone travelers on the roads. Almost never groups unless their starving or sick. If you leave the beaten path, you're in their turf, Jon." Hadvar didn't think he had to tell the man beside him to pay them their due respect.
"Sounds like wolves then." Jon said.
They continued on for another half an hour, the sun was hanging low in the sky. Jon saw all manner for insect and birds fluttering about. Some were familiar to him, some not. Mostly not. His memory worked in overdrive to catalog every new sight, powering though his exhaustion, though he knew he would have to look at some things again.
He pulled out several slices of the goat cheese, and even one he couldn't identity, and woofed them down along with more fruit, apples. Jon saved the bread. Feeling somewhat better from the food, his mood was depressed even further when notice his lack of any kind of canteen or water-skin, his steel dagger also left in a Stormcloak's skull. He would most likely have to buy a skin, and he didn't really know how much gold he had, not counting in the moment. Hopefully enough for a water skin, canteen preferably, and night at the local in. The rookie mistakes were beginning to pile up, making him lucky to be alive even after his execution was thwarted.
He reached into his food pouch again and pulled two bottles of the cold mead contained within, one for him and Hadvar, "Thanks. The Nord was right, it is better warm though."
Jon took a swig of the brew, finding it unlike any mead he had before, "Well I like it cold, so lets take a rain check on trying it warm."
Hadvar chugged his bottle quick, "Look, Jon, we should split up soon. We probably shouldn't be seen together right now, especially walking into Riverwood. I don't want to leave you fend for yourself in the Skyrim wilderness, a foreigner, but…"
"I understand." Jon cut him off. He wasn't mad at Hadvar, but he assumed that was the plan to begin with. His fatigue got the better of him.
"You do." Hadvar flatly asked.
"Yes." He said tersely before deflating, "Sorry, I really am bone tired right now. I am quite literally trained to survive in foreign, hostile, environments. The Green Berets specialized in it. I think I'll live once I get to the town and get some proper rest. I assume the town is straight on?"
"Yup, just keep walking about another hour or so. Before I go, up ahead is the Guardian Stones. Next to the river and a good place to rest. The stones also hold power."
They slowed the pace somewhat as the came up to the bend of the road. Jon asked, "What kind."
Hadvar Replied, "They and the others like them grant blessings. The three up ahead are the mage, thief, and warrior. You can only take one blessing at a time from the stones themselves, but you can have multiple blessings. Personally, I'm blessed by the Lord stone. Gives me some protection against magic and makes my skin a little thicker."
"When you say blessings you mean-" Jon left the question open ended.
Hadvar replied, "Divine power, battle-brother. Our gods are real, we do not worship them on faith alone. Sometimes they even stand beside us." Hadvar proclaimed, then he whispered lest the trees have ears, "Talos was a real man, a Nord. Founded the empire, as it stands. His likeness is on the coin you carry. Talos was also Dragonborn, blessed by Akatosh himself, and ascended to godhood when he died. One of the treaty terms bans his worship."
"Heresy and Inquisition." Jon kept a keen eye out for any Spaniards.
"Precisely. The Thalmor are allowed to arrest and 'question' anyone they suspect of it. They usually disappear forever. Thalmor were nice and lazy about it in Skyrim until Ulfric Stormcloak made his way to Solitude, capital of Skyrim by the way."
"The exact reason for the rebellion, I'd bet." Jon said.
"And you'd win that bet. The Thalmor are going to get whats coming to them, but they won't if the Empire's fractured." Hadvar sighed, resigning himself to an unknown fate. He wasn't going to dare try and recruit his friend for the war effort. Not after what the Empire did to him, even if the man personally accepted it as just.
"We'll see each other again, Hadvar of Riverwood. Thank you for everything." Jon held out his hand and Hadvar griped it the Nord way, hand over forearm.
"You as well Jon, of house Noonien-Singh. I'll be staying at my Uncle's place. Alvor, he's the blacksmith. I'll be gone by morning, be sure to mention you. They're good people, and they'll help you if you're my friend." Hadvar turned away while Jon nodded one last time at his departing comrade.
Jon turned himself toward the river calling his name a few feet away. He drank greedily from the flowing water, fully quenching his thirst. It tasted of natural minerals and life that lived within it, but again it was nothing like any water he had before.
He then took the empty bottles of mead and rinsed them out, filling them back up with the fresh water of Skyrim and corking them shut. Jon wasn't really worried about disease. He didn't have a choice but to drink the local water, and constantly making filters to purify it could prove cumbersome if it wasn't necessary to his survival. He would know in a few hours how his robust immune system held up against the raw wild that lived in this land.
Jon walked up the back up the bank of the river and into the semi-circle made by the ancient stones of Skyrim. He knew which one he would pick, but he still took a moment to inspect each of the humble monuments in front of him. To the right of the council sat The Warrior, strong and proud, in the middle the Thief, dark and mysterious. On the left sat The Mage, striking and powerful, and that was Jon's blessing of choice. If he didn't have magika to begin with, then perhaps he could be given it by holy providence.
Stepping closer to his chosen stone, Jon could feel in his augmented bones that the blessing would allow him to more quickly and efficiently intuit the secrets of the magical arts, just as the others would help him in their own domains. He was already a warrior and a thief, he was not a mage. Peering just a glimpse into the actual divine was power no other Augment could ever hope to achieve like he had, with this every day occurrence in Skyrim.
Jon lifted his hand to the stone of The Mage, and lightly tapped his outstretched middle finger too it. A white ethereal light swirled inside the hole near the top of the thing, and shot straight to the sky. Jon could make out starts surrounding the beam where it reached into the heavens and beyond, seeing also the density of stars was much greater than that of earth. Sparks of light filled the small council and wrapped themselves in a whirlwind around Jon, which he didn't react too, preferring to let the Guardian do their work unimpeded.
He felt new energy, the color smell and texture of navy blue, fill him that wasn't there before. It was a second breath of life that felt esoteric and unknowable. Jon finally had magika, his assumption correct. He held up his hand and thought, fire. Nothing happened. He thought of sparks. Again nothing happened. Finally he thought, ICE. Much to his disappointment, still nothing happened.
Jon put his hand down and turned away from the stones, silently thanking The Mage for their gift. Even if he didn't know how to use it yet, it never hurt to be polite when dealing with celestial power. Continuing to walk the Imperial road towards Riverwood, he ran his last known provisions dry attempting to sate his growling hunger. The bread and the last apples kept him going a little longer. Eyeballs clicked about, and his ears were open to the surrounding environment. The local forest seemed calm, but not too calm. Life dwell within, and didn't speak of ambush.
Charging though the last leg of the journey, Riverwood finally revealed itself thorough Skyrim's forest canopy and slowly dwindling light. A simple rough-cut stone and wooden palisade greeted Jon's enhanced vision. He saw it disappear into the thick evergreen and oak forests that climbed high into the soaring Hrothgar Mountain Range(HMR). Heard also was the sounds of logging industry, no doubt being fed by the river beside it. Seen also were two guardsman manning the humble gatehouse.
The Guard-Sargent in dull yellow at his post was sharp, and remembered every face that ever set foot in his small town. The one he saw was new, a Redguard in robes.
He said, "Hail wizard. Please state your business."
He was courteous as well. Being so won him many favors with people passing though on the main road between Whiterun and Falkreath, and to Cyrodiil in the south. People who could help his Riverwood, place of birth and home.
"Hail fair Guardsman. I am simply passing though, looking to stay the night at the local inn, and receive direction to Winterhold." Jon could be courteous too, his words honeyed after all. He didn't like yelling out his movements like this, but the nature of his existence had changed and he had to adapt to survive. Telling the guard to piss off wouldn't do, and besides, a man in wizard robes going to the College wasn't hard to figure out. To top it off, he would rather someone just tell him what he needs to know right now, rather than trying to guess at it himself though exhaustion.
"Aye, we have what you seek. The Sleeping Giant Inn is on the other side of town near the gate. As for direction, a cart driver can take you or tell you how to get there. Stop by the Riverwood Trader if you need supply."
The Guard-Sargent was shamelessly paid to say that last part and make it sound like an order, a harmless bribe that brought more gold into the town. The merchants might be Imperials, but they were both fair dealers after some light haggling, and breathed Riverwood as any native did. If he were a merchant, he would haggle too the Guard-Sargent thought.
"Thank you guardsman." Jon said with a small wave.
"One last thing, don't start trouble. We're a quiet town." The Guard-Sargent ended.
Jon gave a solemn nod as he walked thought the gates and into the peaceful community. He estimated about 150-200 people lived here, smaller than Helgan before it was attacked; How many actually survived that slaughter he didn't, and would never know. A few laborers worked at the water-wheel powered sawmill hugging the river, finishing up their tasks for the day. A few children ran about chasing clucking chickens. The Blacksmith, Alvor no doubt, plied his trade nearby. Jon said nothing to the man as he passed. Not yet at least.
A Wolf-dog hesitantly worked its way to Jon, its nose taking tentative sniffs at the person only she recognized as a stranger. The smell was wrong they both thought, in their own ways. Jon saw no sighs of aggression coming from the approaching animal. Its ears were high, tail low with a slow wag. Her teeth weren't showing, and there were no growls. Jon got down on one knee and held his hand out for the she-wolf to approach, which she did and took in the foreign scent. Both deciding the other wasn't hostile, Jon gave the dog a scratch behind the ears before picking himself up and moving forward. With one last look at the passing wizard, she gave a low hum, heard only by her cousins near by, to give the stranger passage though their humble forest next to their humble town. Any other packs he would have to deal with himself.
As Jon was making his way to the building that appeared to be the Trader, he heard a voice that ripped his attention towards it in a collection of small houses. It said, "Dragon, I saw a dragon!" the voice was feeble.
"What? What is it now mother." The tone sarcastic.
"It flew right over the barrow." The mother said.
"Mother please. I've got better things to do than listen to you fantasies. If you keep this up, then everyone will think you're crazy." Jon had to respond to this.
"You'll see, when it kills us all you'll see, boy!" the old voice called out once last time.
The unknown man had walked away by the time Jon found the source of the cries. The woman was wrinkled and haggard. Tears were in her eyes, burdened with the knowledge they held. Jon walked on to the small porch and sat beside her.
"I believe you." He said.
She looked at the knowledge in his eyes, "You do! You've seen it! You know! Please tell me we can do something!" her sobbing continued.
"I can and will do something...If not me, then who?" he said softly to no one in particular. The Augment was the Chosen of Akatosh for a reason.
He rose from his seat and continued to the Trader, and Jon heard her sobbing lessen somewhat. The old woman believed in her heart that the wizard had come to slay the foul dragon, and it gave her some measure of hope. It was even technically the truth.
Finding the Trader by symbol, rather than signage he couldn't read, he stepped on to the deck of the two story building and turned the knob of the door. He heard heated dialog on the other side.
"Well one of us has to do something!" An Imperial woman's voice nearly screamed.
"Are you Divines-damned insane! You aren't climbing up that mountain to take on a pack of bandits dug into a tomb by yourself! You'll be killed! There will be no adventures, no theatrics, and no Bandit-hunting! I am not losing my sister over a claw!" the Imperial male returned.
"Well what are you going to do, huh!? It's not about the claw Lucien! It's about people thinking they can get away with stealing from us! About people thinking we can't protect their product and coin! Don't forget I'm half-owner of this venture; I demand a response!" she said.
"We are done talking about this." Lucien growled. Jon finally opened the door, "Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that."
The smell of the simmering stew in the room hit Jon like a freight train, the shelf full of cheese like a truck. Next to the hearth was a small table and a couple chairs, no doubt for the proprietors.
"May I sit?" Jon motioned to the chair closest to the fire. Skyrim had a chill to it, and while he could handle it, it would be nice to warm his tired bones.
"Of course." The woman said before Lucian could respond.
"Thank you, Miss?" Jon asked her name.
"Valerius. Just call me Camilla. That's Lucien." Camilla pointed to her brother.
"I would like one wheel of goat cheese and a bowl of that delicious looking stew. How much?" Jon asked staring at the floor. One bowl and some cheese wouldn't be enough, but It would get him through the final stretch.
"Well, we aren't exactly an inn. Say, 25 gold." Lucian said.
"Lucian! Look at him, he's disheveled. Got blood on him and everything. 5 gold for the cheese, and the stew is free."
"That isn't even cost!"
"Lucien!" Camilla said with finality. She placed a wheel of cheese in front of Jon and prepared a bowl of stew for him.
"Thank you" Jon said.
Missing his steel dagger, but thankful his iron one didn't have brain-of-Stormcloak on it, he cut wedges off and devoured half of the wheel before the stew was placed in front of him. The stew was his next victim, it too disappearing in fury. Judging by texture, he guessed it was venison, potatoes, and some other kind of chopped vegetable he couldn't tell, by taste or texture. Every foreign flavor was savored in the instant it was on his tongue, before sliding immediately down his gullet. The one flavor familiar to him was the salt, a simple crystalline structure chemically unchanged from its Earth counterpart. At least that was the same.
Between bites he said, "I also need a water skin, and a map of Skyrim if you have one."
"100 Gold." Lucian said, brooking no interruption from Camilla.
"50" Jon derisively snorted. 100 gold for a water skin and a poorly drawn map.
"80"
"70"
"80, and not a Septim less. I Don't sell anything that isn't quality." Lucian concluded.
"Sold." Jon reached in his gold pocket and pulled out 85 Septims total.
To Jon's surprise the map was well drawn, nay, printed? And with scale. Imperial roads were clearly marked between the eight holds and their major cities. Major towns and even small villages were marked. Also various landmarks were now known to him. He still couldn't read the damn thing, but fortunately intuitive symbols dotted the roughly 11x17 sheet of perfectly trimmed and stitched vellum. The Water skin would also suit his needs, study and holding about a liter. He rolled the map up, put it in his pack, and clipped the water skin to his belt. He decided that the 80 Septims were well spent for the map alone, and disproved his previous, rash, assumption of what it would be.
"Say, a wizard like you might be able to do a job for me. Interested in the details?" Lucian asked after completing the transaction.
"What's the Job." Jon asked.
"Robbers, bandits really, hit our place last night and made off with exactly one thing. A dragon-claw, an ornament made from solid gold." Lucian said.
The mention of the word dragon perked Jon up, and Lucian knew he had a deal. Jon said "Sounds valuable."
"More than all the treasure in the world, to me at least. The bandits are hold up in Bleak-Falls Barrow, up the mountain on the other side of the river. Legend says the claw, and others like it, are keys to doors in those crypts. Look, I've got coin coming from my next shipment, get my claw back and its yours. All of it." Lucian said. It was the same barrow the old woman and Jon had seen the Worm fly over. Once is happenstance, twice coincidence.
"Really Lucian. You're going to conscript a starving stranger off the street? To chase after some bandits dug into a crypt, just like that?" Camilla said. Jon was staring off into the distance, mind in overload.
"I'll do it. Tomorrow." Jon said in a haze.
"See Camilla, now you don't have to go, and you get your thuggish response. Tomorrow is fine, it's getting late and you look worse for wear. What happened to you anyway?" Lucian asked.
"Dragon. It attacked Helgan. Been though some shit." Jon said, Still staring at nothing.
"Dr-Dragon? You mean Hilde wasn't crazy? A real, live dragon?" Lucian stammered. Camilla went pale.
"Yes. Real. Live. Dragon." Jon warned, still staring. Camilla's hands began massaging his shoulders. He didn't even notice her moving to do so. It was welcome relief that stirred him around. Her hands were deceptively strong despite her lithe frame.
"You need to get to the Jarl. I Know you're beat up, but Riverwood is defenseless against something like that. We need reinforcement!" Lucian said.
"Lucian is right. We need more guards. But what can they do against a dragon?" Camilla asked.
"Distract it so the townsfolk can escape. Hopefully. Probably not." Jon said, still taking in Camilla's hands.
"Grim, but doing something is better than nothing. If you've seen it first hand, then you're the only one they'll believe. 'The truth is in your eyes' as they say, and you certainly look like you got you're ass kicked by a dragon. Can you do this for me? Help protect our Riverwood? I'll even give you back all your gold back." Lucian offered.
Jon worked his head around, cracking his neck in every direction he could. Camilla's hands had worked a kink out that he didn't even know he had. He brought his head back and met Camilla's eyes from his seat. They both smiled at each other. Lucian was slightly unnerved.
Jon made his counter offer, "Keep the gold, I'll take provisions. Food."
"Sold." Lucian said.
Jon took his pick of cheeses, bread, and salted meats without clearing the Valerius family out. He estimated about three days worth, but that was still at single rations. He needed more food. And the needed some fucking sleep, but now was not the time for such things. Jon continued the labors of redeeming his house and name.
"I think you'll need a guide," Camilla said, and shot her brother a look, "At least to the edge of town."
"And no further." Lucian warned his sister.
Jon and Camilla walked out of the Riverwood Trader and into the twilight of Skyrim. She took his arm and said nothing as they slowly walked to the north-eastern gate of the settlement, simply offering a warm presence for Jon to ruminate next too.
When they got to the gate and kept waking together, Jon said, "Thought the deal was to the edge of town."
"Brother doesn't listen to me, so I don't listen to him. Besides, how can a lady say she went on a grand adventure beyond the walls if she was vexed by the first bridge she came across?" Camilla playfully said while crossing bridge with Jon.
"I'm sure just looking out the gate is a 'grand adventure' for half the people in Riverwood." Jon snorted, and Camilla couldn't contain her laughter.
"You have such honeyed words." Camilla said.
"I've been told." Jon and Camilla locked eyes.
After a moment of tension, Camilla said, "Take a right to go to Whiterun. Follow the road and you get there in about three or four hours walk. You'll be seeking Jarl Bulgruuf the Greater. When you're ready, head the other direction and you'll get to Bleak-Falls Barrow. The road trails into a mountain path that takes you straight there."
"Thank you for your company and direction, Camilla Valerius." Jon said.
"You never gave me your name, you know. How can a lady on a grand adventure kiss a man if she doesn't know his name." Camilla said softly, putting her hand to his previously damaged cheek, feeling the missing part of his ear. His head tilted further into her hand, finding comfort in it.
"How unchivalrous of me, milady. I am Jon, of house Noonien-Singh" He leaned in and took her into his mouth. Camilla moaned softly at the taste of the Augment, and their tongues played with each other for a second before they disengaged.
"A proper house." She whispered, "A strong one, no doubt. The name is oh so exotic. Stay safe Jon, of house Noonien-Singh. Skyrim is not for the faint of heart at night."
Jon smiled warmly at her, and left Camilla at the crossroad with a pained heart. The tasks before the man she was watching walk away were perilous, and she prayed to the Eight, nay, Nine that she would see him again. Even if it was only for an evening.