———————————————
SPOILER INFO
This fanfic novel is largely based on the events that occurred in an actual game of Skyrim I played. Therefore, it's inevitably a spoiler.
———————————————
previous day
4-201-08-26 06:03
Dead Man's Drink, Falkert, Falkreath, Skyrim
The inn is less crowded in this ealy hour. At the breakfast table, Valga tells me that a party of hunters led by a man named Valdr has gone missing somewhere in this region. Then I have a chat with another guest, Wilaar Wood-Strider. He calls himself a "praefect" and boasts how important he used to be and how he has been all over the world and done important things he can't tell to just anyone about. Yawn. It's big deeds that impress me, not big words. Anyway, he wonders if the four of us mercenary girls would help him destroy some kind of a bandit gang, lead by a "Dark Elf bastard". Their base is behind mountains and very hard to reach, though.
I remain noncommittal. There's no reason for me to be rude to Wilaar, but I've much more interesting things to do than going on a wild elf chase with someone whose abilities don't quite seem to match his high opinion of himself. Neither, must I say, do I appreciate him calling us mercenaries.
(Not "wild elf chase", Jenassa educates me later. Wild Elves were an ancient people, extinct by now.)
The only good thing about Wilaar is that when we talk about geography, he corrects my mistake of assuming that Tamriel is the name of this world. The planet is actually called Nirn and Tamriel is one of its continents. Not that it has much importance, of course, but I like to be as precise in my terminology as I can. Things are confusing enough with a location sometimes having different names (such as Solitud which some people spell as Solitude) and occasionally one word meaning different things. Most absurdly, Imperial is one of the races (the innkeeper Valga is an Imperial), but it can also refer to things that have something to do with the Empire. Thus an Imperial Soldier is not necessarily of Imperial race. Such ambiguity is appalling. It's another matter when I myself invent funny names for things, such as calling "The Drunken Huntsman" inn in Hviterun "The Drunken Husband ". That's just being witty, but when talking seriously, one ought to express oneself clearly.
My, how quickly the time passes when you're working with your mouth! The shops will be open in a few minutes. Time to go out.
I notice the jarl's house and decide to take a look inside. Before approaching the jarl, I have a chat with the steward, a nice elven woman Nenya. Jarl Siddgeir is a young man with a face that is decidedly not intelligent. When I enquire if I can do anything useful, he haughtily tells me to bring him a drink, and not just any drink but Black-Briar Mead. What? Doesn't he have a waitress of his own? I don't know if he's trying to put me in my place or put me to the test. I'm trying to keep a straight face when I walk out. All right, you big baby boy, I'll get you your bottle.
By the way, why do I always have the feeling that "Jarl" should come after the name? Like "Balgruuf Jarl", "Siddgeir Jarl" etc? I've no idea where I got this from.
Well, never mind. There's a general store near the inn, kept by a man named Solaf. I don't know why he is so strangely defensive. He warns me sternly that if I steal anything from his shop, I'll regret it. Makes me tempted to steal from his shop just for the heck of it. Or perhaps I ought to make him my boyfriend? Maybe that will loosen him up? And he's not at all bad-looking either.
It's still raining, so I go to the smithy which has a roof over the smithing facilities outside the actual house. I sit there for some time watching the blacksmith Lod at work. He mentions a dog he saw near the town recently. He wonders if I could grab it and bring it to him, as it looked like a good dog and it would be better off watching his house instead of roaming about in the woods.
That must be the dog the guard asked me about yesterday. Some people are preoccupied with a dragon, some with a dog. I tell Lod that I would need some persuasion. I only want to tease him, but he actually gives me 25 septims as advance payment. I'm a little ashamed of myself, because I don't know how I could find the dog.
After paying a visit to the alchemy shop nearby and exchanging a few words with a man selling exotic alcohol, I go to the inn. I believe to remember that my loot from yesterday contained Black-Briar Mead which I sold to Valga. Yes, it did and she's still got it. I buy one bottle back and bring it to the jarl. I find it all rather amusing. Now he tells me to eliminate a group of bandits at Knifepoint Ridge located west-northwest of the town.
I must say that Falkert looks really nice. I can remember now that I've had dreams of a different world where Falkert was called Falkreath, the same as the hold it's the capital of, and it was a puny miserable ramshackle village, possibly the most depressing place in the world to be. But the real Falkert is a beautiful town, even in the rain.
I think we'll spend the day here – have a little rest, look around, talk to people. Tomorrow we'll be off to another adventure. And it's not going to be with that poser Wilaar – that I can assure you.
First, I go to Solaf and lure him into bed upstairs. Afterwards, he's just as irate and insulting as before. What is wrong with him? Why does he have to act like he hates the whole world?
I'm profoundly disappointed by my failure to make Solaf lighten up. I feel soiled. Used. And I don't care how illogical you may say it is. I'll kill him someday, when my status here is high enough. I've been told you can get away with a lot in Falkert when you're friends with Jarl Siddgeir.
I take a walk around town. After a few casual conversations, I step into a house near the watermill. It's filled with mysterious brown light and looks abandoned. I find some journal pages written by someone saying he has turned into a monster and adores some woman. There's a door in the cellar that needs to be opened in some clever way. Frankly, I'm not interested. I go out again and exit through the southern town gate, strolling southwest to clear my head and, who knows, maybe find that dog Lod is looking for.
The dog turns out not difficult to find at all. Far from roaming about in the woods, it sits in the middle of the road just out of the guards' sight as if waiting for me. When I approach, it says: "You are exactly what I was looking for."
Very well. What might he be looking for, then?
The dog says he has fallen off with his master, and asks me to help him make up with him.
I sense very strongly that there's something evil connected with that animal. It must be something Bardslayer knows from his experience beyond my cognition.
So I tell the dog I won't do it. He responds haughtily to come and find him when I'm "ready to do something useful". I shrug and walk back to town, my head filled with gloomy thoughts.
Passing by the stables outside the town gate, I strike up a conversation with Miles, the man who sells horses. I can't help myself. I have to flush that scumbag Solaf out of me, so to speak. Miles and I go a little further from the house and make love in the midst of stunning scenery and lovely birdsong.
As Miles goes back to his business, I stroll back towards the town gate. Passing by Miles's house, I decide to take a quick peek inside – you know, just to get a general impression of his living conditions. There's a double bed and a woman, apparently his wife. This is not my lucky day. I hope at least she won't find out what her husband and I just did.
In a downcast mood, I walk through the gates back into the town:
Lod accepts my explanation that it might be better to stay away from that dog. I'm disappointed that he refuses to take his 25 septims back, but I'm obviously not going to start a fight over this.
After that, I just idle away a couple of hours. My followers are sitting at the inn and having a good time. I don't want to ruin their evening with my current mood, so I just walk in random directions and end up stepping in to the guard barracks:
Then I stroll around in the darkness, talking a few words with the few passersby.
I stand a while next to a beautiful statue and absent-mindedly watch the guards patrolling the streets. It gives me the feeling of safety. A man named Thadgeir asks me to bring a certain item to Runil, the priest. I do that, and it improves my mood somewhat. Then I return to the inn after all and basically just listen quietly to my girls' chatter. At quarter past 11, I decide to turn in. Tomorrow will be a better day. It's bound to.
next awakening
return to the table of contents
