A Madman's Order

Chapter 2

Jesters, Farmers, and Mothers; Oh My!

The first thing I registered when I sat up, other than the fading aurora over my head and the brilliant golden rays of sunlight cresting over the distant horizon, was the cold. My hair stood on end as gooseflesh broke out on my arms, neck, and legs. A shiver ran up and down my spine, almost making my teeth chatter. I live somewhere that is cold. Appleton, Wisconsin is well-known for its harsh winters. But this cold felt different. It was biting.

Despite that, there was still grass growing tall and wild all around me. Blue, purple, red, and yellow flowers sprouted in lovely blooms, which the beardless goat promptly munched on.

Panic set in for me. I was still not in the hospital. I wasn't even in that strange glade Phil- Sheogorath- took me to. I was alone, in a field, surrounded by tall grass, flowers, and, in the distance, mammoth mountains that would have made the Rockies look small.

I had no idea where I was.

"Okay." I let out a shuddering exhale. Beside me, the goat bleated and munched on some more grass. I swallowed hard, grasped Wabbajack tight in my right hand, then glanced at the animal. "Don't suppose you know where I'm at?"

The goat stopped chewing and looked at me with its rectangular pupils. It was a blank, naïve stare. My shoulders sagged.

"Oh my god, I'm talking to a goat." I shook my head, brushed some of my hair from my forehead, then rose to my feet. A frigid breeze swept around me as I stood, causing my white coat to flap around me like a cape. I shivered, then quickly wrapped it tight around my thin form. "Stay put."

After blowing a hot breath into my palms, I rubbed my hands together and spun around, desperately searching for a sign of… well… anything. If I was out in the middle of the countryside then I should see a farm or a ranch at some point. Especially if there was a goat nearby. Wasn't there a trend of people choosing to become goat herders or something? I thought I saw a Youtube video of that.

Then again, that was out in Oregon. Those people are weird.

I shivered again and turned around. My mouth fell open. The tallest mountain I had ever seen loomed over the entire land in the distance, piercing the sky. It rose so high that I couldn't even see the peak due to the clouds. As far as I was aware, the only mountain that could rival that height was Everest, and I don't think I'm in Nepal.

"Okay, okay." I exhaled and wrapped my arms tight around my body. "Think, Anastasia. Think. We're… we're… damn it, this makes no sense!"

Right as I uttered that frustrated phrase, a furious cry erupted through the air, making me freeze where I stood. I swiveled, pointing Wabbajack at the source of the sound. That's when my heart leaped in my chest.

Not too far away sat a cobblestone road. Beside that road, I saw a little homestead with smoke puffing out of a stone chimney atop a thatched roof. On the road, at the base of the small hill the homestead sat on, was a cart. I saw a small silhouette rushing around the cart, bellowing snarls and curses at the top of his lungs. At the same time, I saw a woman in plate armor walking away, further down the road; and another figure, a man, striding to the homestead, his back turned to the cart.

I didn't care about what was going on, or why the small figure was so furious. All I cared about was that they were people. There was civilization nearby! Maybe, just maybe, I could get a phone call. Or, at the very least, directions to the nearest city. From there, I could figure out my way home.

So, with renewed confidence, I rushed across the field, leaving the beardless goat behind to dine on the grass. As I approached the homestead, though, my confidence began to fade.

The cart stopped at the base of the small hill was a horse and buggy. Already not a good sign. Then there was the road. It barely looked paved; mostly made of haphazard cobblestones that were uneven and worn down, and gravel. It was so bumpy that I almost twisted my ankle as soon as I stepped onto the pavement. I doubt anything other than a good 4x4 could drive on such a rough surface.

My confidence waned further when I realized that the man rushing around the cart, muttering to the large box on the back of it, was wearing a jester's outfit. Full motley colors, with deep scarlets, blacks, and oranges littering his outfit. He even wore the strange hat medieval jesters are always depicted wearing.

That was when I realized that Sheogorath did not send me back to Wisconsin. He didn't even send me back to earth.

"E-Excuse me!" I called, clutching Wabbajack with both hands. The little man froze, his back still turned away from me. I swallowed hard. "Could you, um, tell me where I'm at? I'm afraid I'm hopelessly lost."

"Lost? Here? On the road?" A mirthful voice crowed. The man in the jester outfit twirled around, a mad smile on his pink lips. I froze, unsure if that was a menacing or friendly grin. Strange how I was having trouble figuring those out lately. "Quite the unfortunate place to lose your way, yes? You'd think you'd be able to figure out the direction the road was going."

I gritted my teeth. "Yeah well, if I don't even know where I'm at, how am I supposed to know where the road is going, Mister-"

"Oh!" The man took off his hat and bowed low at the waist. "Cicero is my name. Yes, yes. And you are?"

I blinked. This man was a literal ball of rage seconds ago. Now he's being friendly. What have I gotten myself into?

"Anastasia," I replied, tone cautious.

"Ooooh, pretty name. Wait!" He cried. "Let me guess. Breton? No, no, your face isn't round enough. Too pretty to be a Nord too. Then again, there was that one girl in Dawnstar that was quite the looker." He gasped and faced the box on the cart. "Apologies Mother. Never fear! You're the only woman for me."

And just like that, my brain almost checked out entirely.

"M-Mother?" I commented.

"Yes." Cicero gestured to his cart. That was when I noticed the broken wheel. "Mother is already upset with poor Cicero. She's going to be more irate by the second if I don't start moving. We can't be at rest. Can't be still. But the wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel!" He kicked the cart, not even flinching when his toe made contact with solid wood.

Now my concern grew. What did this guy mean by his mother? Was his mother trapped in that large box? I inched a little closer, still keeping Wabbajack between me and the Jester.

"Did you lock your mother in there?"

"What!? Of course not!" Cicero cried. "Lock up mother; by Sithis, what a grave offense that would be. No, you see, I'm transporting my dear sweet mother to a new home. A new crypt. Well, not her; her corpse. She's quite dead."

I blinked. "O-oh."

"But, I cannot go. Cannot ride. The wheels won't spin. And Loreius," He spat into the dirt, "damned farmer. He will not help poor Cicero." Cicero then froze. His head slowly turned to me. "You're a pretty face. A nice lady, yes? You… you could talk to Loreius. He'll listen to you."

I jerked back. "Oh no. No, no, no. I'm not getting involved with whatever this is."

Cicero gave me a sly smile. "Not even for coin? Shiny, clinky, gold?"

I froze. Gold? Did he just say he would pay me in gold coins? I almost laughed at him, but I stopped myself before I could. At this point, it was safe to say that I wasn't in Wisconsin anymore. I probably wasn't even on Earth anymore. Wherever Sheogorath sent me must use precious metals as its currency rather than paper money.

Gold coins must be valuable. And, gold coins would get me what I needed most: information. The faster I could figure out a way home, the better.

"Information and gold," I countered.

"Oooooh?" Cicero bounced closer to me. He would have gotten right up to my face if I did not raise Wabbajack. His mad gaze flicked at the staff, and his grin widened. "Cicero likes you. Anastasia knows that information is as valuable as coin." He giggled and nodded. "I accept your proposal. Loreius should be up at his farm. Convince him to help me, and I will give you what you want."

I drew in a deep breath. All I had to do was convince some farmer to fix a broken wheel? Sounded simple enough. So, without another word, I marched around the cart, past the horse that pulled it, and up the dirt path to the farm.

Once at the farm, I noticed how small it actually was. The people who lived here probably grew enough food for themselves and maybe a little more to sell. There were a couple of potato plants, some leeks, and a few rows of wheat swaying in the breeze. An ancient windmill sat idle a little ways away from the actual homestead. By the windmill, I saw a peculiar woman wearing a faded dress. What caught my eye about her was her skin. It was almost green. A yellowish-green tint made her complexion appear unnatural. Did she have jaundice? And her ears were… pointed.

I sucked in a sharp breath as she locked eyes with me. Quickly, I averted my gaze from her and turned my attention to the man planting a fence post into the ground.

He was a muscular man. Sweat beaded all over his balding head as he hammered a fence post into the ground. After wiping some sweat from his brow, he glanced over his shoulder and saw me. A frustrated huff left his lips.

"Oh for the love of Mara, what now?"

"Love of who?" I shook my head. "You know what, forget that part. Um..." I glanced down the hill at Cicero and his broken cart. "The uh, the little man needs your help."

The farmer, who I assumed was Loreius, furrowed his heavy brow. "The little man?" He blinked. "Oh, you mean that Cicero fellow? Yeah, he's only asked me almost half a dozen times now. Does he not understand the meaning of the word no?" He shook his head and drove the post further into the ground with one strong swing of his hammer. The impact made me wince. "And now he's gotten someone like you roped into this too. You…" Loreius gave me a look again and some confusion formed on his face. "Are you a mage?"

I blinked. "A what?"

"You're wearing strange robes and you have that staff. I assumed you'd be a… never mind. No sense in offending the magical."

I scoffed. "I can assure you I'm definitely not magical. Just, um, look, I'm sure Cicero will pay you if you help him."

Now it was Loreius' turn to be offended. "Pay me! Do you think this is about money? Have you seen the fellow? A jester, in Skyrim?"

Skyrim? So that's where I am. I have no idea what that means, but it's nice to know the name of the place. That's at least a start.

"There hasn't been a merry man in these parts for over a hundred years." Loreius set his hammer down and pointed at the cart. "And he's carrying that box. Says it's his mother and he's going to go bury her. Mother my eye. He could have anything in there. Skooma, war contraband; no way I'm getting involved in any of that."

I had no idea what the hell Skooma was, but war contraband set off alarm bells. Skyrim, whatever place that was, had a war going on? Just my luck. Not only did I meet an absolute madman in Sheogorath, but he also transported me to a land with active armed conflict. I'm a doctor, not a soldier!

"Those are legitimate concerns, I guess."

"Exactly!" Loreius then gestured to the woman tilling a row of plants near the windmill. "I have my land and my wife to worry about. The Nords already give me enough trouble for having an elvish wife. Ain't no need to get involved with smugglers. That'd just make things worse."

I bit my tongue right as I was about to express my shock that the man was married to an elf. While my shock was genuine, since I thought elves were the stuff of fiction, Loreius would not take it that way. If I wanted gold, I'd have to convince him to help Cicero, and that meant getting on his good side. Or, perhaps it meant speaking to his better nature. He seemed like a good man who was overly cautious.

"Look, Loreius," I brushed some of my hair behind my ear and placed a hand on my hip. "You just said there's a war going on. What if Cicero is being honest? Would you leave such a small, helpless individual to fend for himself when he is simply trying to lay his mother to rest?"

Loreius gave me a hard look. "What?"

"You know it's the right thing to do."

"I-" Loreius's jaw tightened a moment. For that long moment, I thought he was going to yell at me. Curse at me. Throw me off of his farm for daring to question his judgment. Then, I saw his gaze turn to his wife, and he sighed. "Yes… yes, I suppose you are right. What kind of man would I be if I didn't help someone who needed it. Especially in times like these." He reached for his hammer and picked it up. "I have to gather some tools. You can go down and tell Cicero I'll be there in a few minutes. And, um, I apologize for my unneighborly reaction. Can't be too careful in this day and age."

I nodded in understanding. I couldn't blame the man for wanting to look out for his family. Nevertheless, I felt relieved. I managed to convince him to help.

Not wanting to give Loreius a chance to change his mind, I turned and strode back down the hill. Once at the base of the hill, Cicero scampered to me.

"So? Did you do it? Did you convince him?"

I nodded. "Yup. He's getting his tools and he'll be here in a couple of minutes."

"Y-you did? He'll help?" My eyes widened when Cicero started dancing with joy. "Oh thank you! Thank you! Cicero thanks you for your kind deed. But, most importantly, my mother thanks you." He marched to the cart and reached into a bag beside the large box. With almost casual indifference, he yanked out a small sack of coins and tossed them at me. "Here, here, for your trouble. Shiny, clinky coin!"

I almost dropped the bag when he tossed it to me. Once I got a firm grasp of it, I untied it and looked inside. My jaw fell open when I saw gold coins shimmering within. The jester wasn't lying. There was real gold in the sack.

That's one hell of a start. I breathed, tying up the sack and shoving it into my lab coat pocket. Then, I pursed my lips and waited on Cicero. Cicero blinked then smacked his forehead.

"Oh, right! Cicero promised information. Well, ask away, Miss Anastasia."

"Wonderful," I exhaled, happy to finally be getting somewhere. "So, I gathered that I'm in Skyrim. What does that mean exactly?"

"Hmmm," Cicero rubbed his chin, "that is a rather broad question, Miss Anastasia. Do you mean to say you've never heard of Skyrim?"

"Just explain it to me like I'm the biggest idiot you've ever met."

Cicero cackled. "Oh, but you are not. Cicero can tell, yes. But, Cicero will indulge your request. Skyrim is the northernmost province of the Empire in Tamriel. It's the home of the Nords. And, it's cold."

"I gathered the latter," I deadpanned, suppressing another shiver. Even with the sun rising, it still felt so cold. Most of what Cicero told me still made little sense. But, I at least had some bearings now. I could figure it out from here, hopefully. "Okay then, um, closest city?"

"That would be Whiterun," Cicero replied. "Cicero's path takes him there before I go to Falkreath. As further payment for your help, allow us to take you there."

I gave him a cautious look. "You know, my parents warned me about catching rides with strangers."

"Ah, but Cicero is not a stranger. Cicero is a friend. Mother is a friend. Besides, a lost person must rely on strangers to be found. You'd be surprised by how often that happens."

"I think I can handle the road by myself. Just point the way."

Cicero furrowed his brow. Was that genuine concern I saw on his face?

"No, no, Cicero must insist. A pretty thing like you is ripe pickings for the bandits that prowl Skyrim."

My blood turned cold. "Bandits?" I uttered a weak laugh, desperately wanting to disbelieve the jester. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, Anastasia, Cicero is always serious."

I gave him a hard look as his unnerving smile widened. "Okay, and what would those bandits do to me?"

"Steal your gold, for one. Use you for… other things, for two."

That made my blood freeze. What kind of world have I wound up in? My throat felt tight as I struggled to take a deep breath. Even if I was traveling with Cicero, what was to stop bandits from waylaying us on the road? Cicero was not the most intimidating fellow. He was shorter than me, after all.

But, there was safety in numbers, I guess?

"How long will it take to fix that wheel?"

Cicero clapped his hands, excited. "Hopefully not long at all." We glanced up the hill and saw Loreius marching down with some tools. "Not long at all!"

I puffed out a heavy breath. I hoped it wouldn't take long. I wanted to get to some sort of civilization as fast as possible. Who knows, maybe I'm just in some strange part of a country and all I needed to do was reach a major city to find a phone, or even a postal service, to contact home. Besides, traveling on a cart sure beat walking, even if Cicero was less than comforting company.

Well, I took a seat beside the cart and waited while Cicero and Loreius worked on the broken wheel, at least chatting with him will be entertaining.

And chapter! This is fun. Just good, not hard to do, fun. Nothing like putting our wayward traveler with one of the maddest people in all of Skyrim (And one of the most dangerous). Should be interesting, to say the least. Let me know what you all think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it! Have a nice day!

Come join the Fanfiction Treehouse discord server! Discord code is: 9XG3U7a

Also, come check out the Fanfiction Treehouse Podcast! Myself, Stormtide Leviathan, RedXEagl3, GrandPaladinTyrux, Narwhal Lord, Mixed Valence, and Rozey_Pozey are the hosts! We talk about writing, share writing tips, discuss fanfiction and regular fiction, and also chat about whatever else comes to mind. You can find all of our audio episodes on Spotify and Soudcloud, as well as new video episodes on Youtube! Hope to see you all there!