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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
4-202-03-24 10:12
Jerall View Inn, Bruma, Bruma County, Cyrodiil
I feel revitalized. A couple of days ago, I was kind of fed up with Cyrodiil, but now I'm once again having the feeling that this is a really nice place and we won't return to Skyrim just yet.
We begin our day with a stroll on the streets. The two thalmor representatives walk past us, but fortunately take no notice of us. We find Serulius and I give him his journal, and he teaches us some One-Handed Weapons and Blocking as reward.
I think we'll stay in the city today. I want to see if someone talks something interesting in the palace, and maybe do some enchanting, and above all I'd really like some sex.
First, I want to take a look at the scumbag Adius's successor Quatrius. After some asking around, I find him near the temple. I introduce myself and smile at him coyly and ask if there's possibly something criminal going on I could help with. Against, I mean. He tells me he already recognized me and yes, there's a rather delicate problem I might be able to help him deal with. The thalmors have suspected for some time there's a group of Talos worshippers somewhere east of here. Now, the palace guards have noticed that in the recent days the local thalmor representatives have gotten visibly agitated over something. Quatrius doesn't know what it's about, but the rumor is a couple of thalmor agents got killed in that suspicious area, and Armion is puzzled as well as worried that they may have another Nord uprising on their hands. That's why Quatrius would like me, a friendly outsider, to try and investigate this matter discreetly, and should I really succeed in finding some insurgents, convince them to lie low for a while, because the thalmor problem won't be around forever.
This task reminds me of something I've been wanting to ask someone about. Why is the thalmors' religion police still operating in Bruma unhindered, and, that being the case, why aren't they doing anything about Laura the Dragonborn walking around freely? I mean, in Skyrim they always try to kill me as soon as they've recognized me.
The short answer is, Quatrius tells me, that neither the county government nor evidently the local thalmors have received instructions from high enough on what to do about the abrupt end of the Skyrim civil war. The Cyrodiil military seems to be in a near-consensus that the peace in Skyrim is a welcome chance to get rid of the pesky thalmors once and for all, and that we are indeed strong enough to do that. However, for reasons unknowns to Quatrius, the highest leadership has not yet come to a decision as to what to do and when. Therefore, for the time being, everyone is continuing to act like nothing has changed, as well as refraining from undertaking anything drastic, least of all against the Dragonborn who is widely admired as a great hero outside of Skyrim as well.
"In case you didn't know," Quatrius adds, "things don't get done here as quickly and informally as in Skyrim."
I don't dare ask him if the Cyrodiil military would seize power in case the emperor turned out a coward. I just thank Quatrius for the conversation and take my leave.
Dar'taqto sees me on the street. We nod hello and I walk to him and he tells me he wants me right now.
Fine with me.
Having closed the hotel room door behind us, he pinches my side painfully. (That's the Khajiit equivalent for slapping your butt. They don't slap, because their palms are soft.) He says I've been mean going in and out of the city without paying any attention to him. "I know," I reply. "I'm sorry. I swear it won't happen again. But now please fuck me or I'll die."
He puts me on all fours. It's a little ironic to do it in doggy style with a feline, but all I can think about at the moment is... no, I can't think about anything. It's unbelievable how badly I had missed it.
We fuck like there's no tomorrow and our moans rise to the heavens... but hopefully not all the way to the taproom above us.
Dar'taqto's orgasm lasts incredibly long. Even without seeing him, I can't help having a second orgasm hearing and feeling the man's ecstasy for what seems to be minute after minute while his hands are frantically trying to touch all my body parts at the same time.
He's not in a hurry to leave this time. We lie in the bed and I rub everything I can against his delightful furry skin.
When I realize he's really not in a hurry, I make bold to ask him if the Khajiit men always have so long orgasms.
Now, what he tells me is most curious. Apparently, the medical mages have found out that a female Khajiit's uterus won't open until the male has squirted sperm into her vagina for at least two minutes (that's on average; it can vary for one individual to another). Dar'taqto says that's the way nature makes sure weak organisms don't progenate, and that's why the Khajiits are the toughest of all races – well, female Bretons excluded, he adds with a smile. That's all right, I say, I don't claim toughness, I much prefer to be perceived as cute and kind. Dar'taqto assures me I am.
While we're getting dressed, I beg him to stop stealing. I say I would be heartbroken if he were thrown to jail.
I think I'm actually succeeding in getting through to his heart. He promises not to steal anymore and I'm having the feeling he actually means it. I tell him I don't mind giving him some money to help him get over the tough times. He replies he's doing fine right now, but he'll keep it in mind.
We go upstairs. Dar'taqto leaves to attend to his business. Evidently no one has officially told him he's expelled from the city. I wonder what's happened to the theft charges. I forgot to ask Dar'taqto. But right now, I fancy some food. While eating, I can't avoid that pathetic old man Botram telling me a long and pointless tale about a past adventure of his in the area of Hviterun.
There's just barely enough time left for me to visit the shops.
I also step into Harald Burdsson's house. He is running a museum of someone called the Champion of Cyrodiil, the closest helper of the legendary Martin Septim. It's a complete rip-off, I'm sorry to say. Harald, however, talks about the chains the Champion was supposedly chained with while in prison and the cloth he supposedly blew his nose into (really! I'm not making this up) as if they were most remarkable historic artifacts in existence. I can't muster enough politeness to stay until the end of his "guided tour". While I walk out, I have the misfortune to hear Harald urging me to stay to see his most valued possession – the finger of the Champion. Yuck!!
I go to the butcher's shop next door and chat some with the proprietor just to bring my thoughts onto something else. I realize that after that finger, this was not a very good idea. Back on the street, I see Lydia and we walk around together and exchange a few words with a female guard.
I now head for the Synod building to do some enchanting. The mage Elintius, my friend of sorts, who is just leaving greets me cheerfully and we chat a little bit. Then I go in and set to work. I have in the meantime gained the ability to put two enchantments on one and the same item, and now I produce some really cool enchanted pieces of armor. I'm able to finish my work early enough, so I can go to sleep a little after midnight! Perfect time-planning!
Jordis sleeps next to me tonight. She can't be with Gryfard, because she's having her period. Jenassa is in their room with Roland and Lydia is somewhere with Ambric.
next awakening
