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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.
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previous day
4-202-01-23 07:13
Proudspire Manor, Solitud, Haafingar, Skyrim
It's a beautiful sunny morning. After a quickie with Hadvar, I head for the inn with the girls to have a bath and also to find out if Montaigu is still in his hiding place – because if he is, he'd better get out before we take our clothes off.
He isn't. There are traces of a struggle and we learn from the innkeeper that he was taken to the castle prison to be painfully interrogated. That's Castle Dour, the imps' headquarters up on the hill next to the temple, not the Blue Palace where the jarl lives.
And these are, as I presume, preparations for an execution unrelated to this case.
Those are supposed to be a common sight in this populous city.
Those are supposed to be a common sight in this populous city.
The word is the valuables stolen from the caravan were a gift from the Aldmeri Dominion to the High King of Skyrim as a token of peace and cooperation. Apparently the caravan left before the news of Torygg's murder arrived. But that's neither here nor there. Montaigu is, as I've told you, a despicable man and if he is being tortured right now, it serves him right. We'll take a look later, at this moment it's a lovely day in the magnificent capital of Skyrim and I want to go shopping. There is no sign of disagreement among my followers.
I'm particularly excited about the fancy clothes shop kept by that High Elf harridan Endarie. To my disappointment, there's nothing I haven't already seen elsewhere. Skyrim is real backwater as far as clothing is concerned.
Well... thanks, I guess. Although I most assuredly hope I'm not that heavy.
(And in case you're wondering, Noster did not come out of the clothing shop. Endarie's assortment is not that bad.)
(And in case you're wondering, Noster did not come out of the clothing shop. Endarie's assortment is not that bad.)
Nevertheless, it's really nice to walk around and talk to all those interesting people. There's an attractive Khajiit man Do'Nashverr. Hopefully I can catch him at the inn someday when my boyfriend Aurelius isn't around. Yeah, what am I saying? I haven't seen Aurelius for ages. For all I know, he may have left the city for good. And I'm gabbing about unimportant things again. Sorry.
At least she doesn't tell me I look ill, like the alchemist Arcadia in Hviterun always does. :-)
There's nothing new in the palace and in the harbor. I'm told the ship "Winter's Warmth" I intend to travel with is ready to leave tomorrow morning. So right now we'll take care of that castle business and I shall spend the rest of the day crafting our equipment.
The imp leadership is apparently very busy discussing Ulfric's plans (which, we hear, might include an attack on Hviterun) and steps that can be taken against him. Thus no one gives us a second look when we walk to the staircase and descend to the basement.
There's a rather large prison. The guards greet us respectfully – I'm a thane here, after all. Having looked into a room or two, we find the torture chamber. There are many bloodstains, one alive and one dead prisoner squeezed into really small cages, as well as the burned remains of a man named Montaigu. The alive prisoner tells us a man with that name was being severely tortured by a High Elf with a very unelfish name Proctor who seems to have been the leader of that caravan that came from the Aldmeri Dominion. The man I'm talking to didn't witness the torture himself, he heard about it from the other prisoners.
We learn from a guard that Proctor was very angry when Montaigu died in his hands. "That's what happens when amateurs try to do a job that requires skill and training," he says with a shrug. He goes on telling us how Proctor stormed out, leaving even his interrogation notes behind. I take those and give the guard some money as a sign of my gratitude.
From those notes, it transpires that the stolen materials were meant to be used to craft a replica of an Ancient Falmer Crown and sold to a collectioner under the pretense it was the original. Apparently, there's nothing left for me to do except bring said articles to the palace, their intended destination, unless I want to craft that crown replica myself, which I don't think there's much point doing.
I set to work in the alchemy lab and then in the smithy. Since Beirand is having a very busy day, I use the smithy in the eastern harbor. The blacksmith Wuzgu is an Orc and shows little interest in me, but his two assistants keep hanging around me until he orders them very sternly to attend to their work.
I get curious about the Falmer crown and craft it after all, reasoning that instead of the components, I can just as well bring the crown itself to the palace. And when it's ready, I find it's kind of cool, so I'm going to keep it for the time being. (I'll show you a picture tomorrow morning, if you don't mind. The lighting is awful here at this hour.)
By the time I'm finished, the sun is already going down. There are few people on the streets and the sunset is just marvelous.
I'm pleasantly tired from the day well spent. It's not over yet, of course. I'll still have to do my enchanting, for which I'm going to the palace. But I don't think it'll take too long. Then the girls and I will have a good night's sleep and probably leave by ship to the unknown tomorrow morning.
Indeed enchanting doesn't take much time today and I can go to bed shortly before midnight. (I'm too tired to even think about men.)
"Laura," says Lydia very softly (because her mouth is close to my ear).
"What?"
"Can we talk about something?"
I turn towards her and pretend to be pondering. "Nah, I think I won't talk to you tonight."
Lydia pushes against my right shoulder, forcing me back onto my back. "Are you sure?" she asks, taking my left nipple between her teeth.
"No, please don't! I'll do anything you want!" I plead and close my eyes. She's not biting or anything, I just enjoy pretending to be helpless sometimes, preferably with someone whom I can completely trust.
Lydia lets go of my nipple and climbs onto me. "Open your eyes!"
"I hear with the ears, not with the eyes," I reply, but I open my eyes all the same. She is so beautiful.
"That Falmer Crown thing reminded me – I've been wanting to ask you why do you feel sorry for the Falmers."
"What's wrong with that? I don't want to kill anyone without a good reason. What's the deal with the Falmers anyway? How did they end up living underground?"
Lydia sighs as if wanting to say "You don't know even that?"
"What?" I ask demandingly.
And she tells me about the especially cruel war between the Nords and the Falmers. The Nords got the upper hand and the Falmers had nowhere else to go than underground to the Dwemers who agreed to give them shelter, but only as their slaves. The Falmers had to agree, because the alternative was complete extinction in the hands of the Nords. There was no more room for them on the surface.
I'm unimpressed "See? They have suffered more than enough already. Besides, from what you told me, it would appear that the war was fought before the Dwemers' disappearance. Now, how many hundreds of years ago was that?"
"That's not the point, Laura! They would kill us all if they could."
"Well, they can't, can they? They've kept to themselves all those centuries. I know, all children are being frightened with Falmers coming out of the underground and killing us, but has it ever actually happened? The Reinaldurs got killed because they violated the Falmers' territory. When have Falmers ever attacked people who walk on the surface and mind their own business?"
Lydia opens her mouth, but doesn't seem to know what to say. I go on: "Has any Falmer who is alive today killed anyone you know?"
"You know, Laura, I think if you asked Jordis that question, you might get an answer."
That gets me a little pensive. Maybe things are not as simple as I've been assuming.
Lydia smiles at my sudden cluelessness. "Don't worry. As far as I'm concerned, you can like whomever you want."
"Even thalmors?"
She bends down and kisses me. "Even thalmors."
"Even Bjarne?"
Looking me in the eye, Lydia shakes her head slightly. "No, he isn't furry enough for you."
I try to slap her butt, but she has anticipated it. She gets off me lightning-fast and turns onto her back. "Good night, dear. Didn't you say you were tired?"
I laugh, reach over and kiss her. She hugs me tightly. Then we go to sleep.
next awakening
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