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Dragonborn Ascendant (4)
🕑 Added 2022-07-20 15:06:13 +0000 UTC“You… gained the keys from Goldenhills?” Jouan stared at me, face contorted into a frown that showed clearly his confusion and incredulity at my words. “What?” I didn’t blame him.
“I don’t even understand how it happened myself,” I revealed to the elder. We were at Frostfruit Inn, the local inn at Rorikstead two afternoons after the altercation I had against the forsworn at Bleakwind Bluff. I returned on the night of that day and gave quite the scare to Mralki, the innkeeper.
Unfortunately, however, after doing some more exploring around the area, particularly in the direction of a faraway tower that shone in the night with the lights of a fire; I did not bring with me good news to either Jouan or Rorik.
“Just as you said he would, as soon as I approached the propriety the ghost of the husband attacked me,” I started retelling the events of what passed in Goldenhills Plantation, a farm that had been left abandoned after the entire family living there suddenly died. Jouan asked me if I could see what happened since the ghost of Urval started attacking anyone that came too close like a rabid dog. “I got rid of him and went inside the house. Found a note of his, he and his wife haven’t been seeing eye to eye for a time now, and when their kid disappeared, he thought she was to blame.” I told, watching as the Breton and the Nord both frowned but remained quiet. “I found her body down in the basement, inside of a hidden room, the axe of her husband stuck on her chest. There was also a note of hers there, basically the same things Urval wrote. So she poisoned him.”
“Divines have mercy,” Rorik muttered, shaking his head with a deep frown on his face. Jouvan also had a stone expression on his face, lamenting the murder. And I understood them.
It was all rather sad, really. Grim.
“So I went to the child’s room, and found a short journal,” I continued after a moment of silence. “He went to the old well, wanted to hunt a wolf by himself. Kid thought if he did that his father and mother would stop fighting. Body was already half eaten when I found it.”
“Then,” Rorik questioned after a moment. “How did you get the keys to Goldenhills?”
“When I brought the kid’s wooden sword back to the house, the ghosts appeared again to me,” I answered. “They were less hostile. Actually, they were standing together, like a family. The boy, Rin, said ‘thank you’, and then the father gave me his keys.”
“And then they left,” Jouan sighed, sounding every bit the sixty, almost seventy year old man he was. Tired. He nodded. “I see. Thank you, Magnus. Here, your reward, for more this service rendered.” He said, passing me a bag of coins that he left on my side of the table.
I pushed it back to him.
“Keep it,” I said. “I don’t need it. I got a farm out of it.”
“But still-” the man tried to protest just to be silenced by the Nord next to him.
“Will you be staying here then?” The elder with black hair asked. I shook my head in denial.
“I won’t settle down to be a farmer,” I told him, a ghost of a smirk crossing my face. “Not yet at least, but I will be keeping the farm. I will only need a steward to manage the property for me, and then a few farmhands to take care of the crops and the animals.”
The two men exchanged a look between each other, a silent conversation happening in the span of a second.
“You already have plans, I see. We could find a steward for you, if you so desire. Farmhands, however, will be a bit trickier to hire, almost everyone here already has to deal with their own jobs after all, so we would have to look further away to find able bodied and willing people,” Jouan tentatively offered. “It would still be best if you stayed here, however. The land is yours now.”
“I understand that, really, I do.” I told them. “But I can’t. I have my duties as a Companion to fulfil, and more things to do, as the assistant of the court wizard.” Then I leaned back on the chair, grabbing the mug of mead and nursing some of the red drink. “Beyond that, I’d still have to go back to Whiterun, to ask the Jarl about sending guards this way. Or have you forgotten?”
"No," they both grimaced. "No, we haven't." Jouan muttered, sighing as a dark expression came over and settled on Rorik’s face.
The situation in the Reach was much more dire than I remembered.
Bleakwind Bluff, as it turned out, was merely a small outpost for the forsworn. When night had fallen, I was able to see with a certain clarity a light in the distance of another tower, which I decided to go and investigate. It turned out to be another ancient Nord tower that had fallen long ago into disrepair, hugging the rock walls of a cliffside, but it was not unoccupied as the presence of forsworn suggested. Below it, an entire camp had been raised extending itself through all the ruins of a place I had come to learn was called Red Eagle's Redoubt. I counted dozens of tents, which meant a few hundreds of people living there. It was practically a fortress.
Thankfully, the Sundered Towers - which was the name of the tower jutting out from the cliff according to the locals - had only a small passage which would make any and all raiding force moving from the redoubt to the plateau very inconspicuous, and that would at the very least alert the peasants of danger if any of them payed attention at all.
So, having discovered that, I decided to backtrack right then and return to Rorikstead as soon as possible, to warn them of the possible danger lurking close to their homes. Only the Imperial Legion would be able to get rid of the people at the forsworn encampment, or a good chunk of the Jarl's forces if he was foolish enough to divert them there.
It left me worried about the situation of Markarth. The memories I had about playing Skyrim never painted Red Eagle's Redoubt as being so massive and housing so many people, but it did here and now, and made me hesitate just imagining how utterly infested with the Forsworn Karthspire would be down in the valley on the Karth River. I would practically need a small army to force them out if I wanted to reclaim Sky Haven Temple, which I would; something that left me troubled just imagining. I'd need the Companions in force, I mused at the time. All of them. And maybe they would even be forced to transform, I thought. Well, at least those of the Inner Circle.
I left Rorikstead the following morning, travelling light and riding fast. The urgency wasn’t immediate, but making haste to warn Balgruuf about a possible Forsworn incursion to his lands was something I found quite important, especially because I liked Balgruuf. He was a respectable man, tough and reliable, and more importantly, he cared about his hold and his people, and was sympathetic to their pleas, which made him a great deal better than many rulers I could remember from my history lessons.
On my way back to Whiterun, the path had been fairly uneventful, except for a singular occurrence where I saw a pair of giants herding four mammoths in the distance. They were enormous creatures, ten, fifteen metres tall. They were immense, though not all of it because of fat, but powerful muscles; covered in a dense and thick fur that draped over the mammoths like hair.
Skulvar greeted me with a nod as I handed Roach for one of his stablehands to take care of, a polite gesture which I gestured with one of my own. He was a good man, a bit rough with having to handle horses constantly and the frequently snobbish horse riders; he even sold me a booklet about the horse breeds commonly found across Skyrim after a bit of inquiry. He was a respectable fellow, one that knew his trade well.
When I entered Whiterun the sky was dark and moody, rain would be coming soon, I thought, walking past the crowds that still littered the streets. Adrianne offered me a nod as she watched me passing by, as did a few other locals that I had become acquainted with over time.
“Magnus!” The high pitched joyous cry of a child, a delighted squeal as a little girl came barreling against me. “You’re back!”
“Oof, easy there, squirt,” I smiled, looking down at the little brunette. I hand came up and went to rest on her head, and I settled with ruffling her hair much to her whining protest. “How are you doing?” I asked, as the girl pouted and huffed in mock indignance.
Her expression immediately turned at my question, and she brightened up, almost bouncing around as she answered me. “I’m fine,” she smiled. “Mum asked me to bring me these fruits for Granny Nadja before I could go play with Astrid and the others when I saw you. Where were you? You’ve been gone for almost a month now!” She asked.
“Not a month,” I told the girl, and she stuck her tongue out to me as I corrected her. Brat. “Two weeks at most. And I was doing a job for the Companions.” I said, and she immediately lit up, a question in her mouth ready to be fired. “Later, I still have to talk with the Companions, and the Jarl.”
“Oh…” She sagged, looking dejected to her feet and kicking a pebble on the way.
“Don’t worry kid,” I ruffled her hair another time, getting a stinky eye in return. “I’ll regale you with some of my exploits in the future, once I have any to talk about, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I told her, making a radiant smile open on her face. “Run along now, you have an order to deliver, no?”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened as a tiny gasp escaped her lips. “You’re right! Bye, Magnus!” And then she left, storming off in the distance. I sighed, watching her go.
“So much energy…” I shook my head, continuing my path to the marketplace. There I stopped for a moment at Carlotta’s stall to speak with her some, and to ask if Mikael had continued bothering her, but by her own words, the blonde had been treating her just like any other woman.
I didn’t linger for long, however, because I had to ascend the steps to Dragonsreach to speak with the Jarl first, and then back to the Companions to give my report to Skjor - who wasn’t there when I arrived - and get my reward in turn.
The spruce door of the Jorrvaskr opened with a rumble, wood cracking to announce my arrival. A wave of hot air hit my face and I shuddered, feeling my body instantly warm up as I entered to the sound of raucous laughter and the jeers of the mass of warriors, hollering and shouting encouragement to the pair trading blows on a corner, spurring the fist fight to continue. A smell of meat clung to the air together with a faint trace of something burnt, an aroma of coal crackling in the fire pit in the centre of the hall, it was an enticing smell that I had missed, the entire ambient.
The Companions were a rambacuous lot. They were loud and brash, and sometimes they acted much like your typical brute with little to no brain accompanying their brawn, but they were all loyal to the bone and honest. There was no better friend to have than a Companion, people that truly lived to their namesake, even if some were sometimes more reserved than others. In the same vein, however, they were also deadly enemies to make.
“Look who’s back,” a voice called, almost like a whisper amidst the cheering drowning most other noises. I swirled around almost immediately upon hearing her words . Emerald eyes twinkled. “You were gone for a long time, Magnus.”
“Like you cared, Aela,” I scoffed, turning to properly face the fiery haired huntress.
For some reason she never managed to tolerate me, maybe because I was a mage. Nords, as whole, mistrusted mages even if they didn’t hate magic per se, only ever regarding it with wariness and caution. Unsurprisingly, really, given the cultural veneration of the martial path present in Skyrim since before the first colonists came from Old Atmora in their long boats. Because magic and the pursuit of the arcane arts frequently required a single minded dedication of their practitioners to achieve minimal progress at times, mages were often not the physical sort, and even more commonly, poor warriors.
The Companions loathed bad warriors, and Aela in particular must have hated me for somehow managing to join them when by all rights I shouldn’t have been able to.
A grunt escaped my lips as my eyes trailed around the room. A frown came across my face. “Where’s Skjor?” I asked.
“Left this morning,” she said, brushing her hair. “There was a merchant not too long ago that had some cargo he wanted to ship to Windhelm, and there are no better escorts than the Companions, you see.” My answer was another grunt. “Why? Do you have some business with him?”
“Payment for a job in Rorikstead,” I told her, although I didn’t stay close, finishing the conversation there to instead talk with Vilkas. He would know what I was talking about.
She clicked her tongue. We didn’t really see eye to eye on things.
