Almistyor
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Something Wicked Ch. 5
🕑 Added 2023-08-18 12:00:09 +0000 UTC“Thank you, thank you!” The woman cried incessantly while hugging him. Behind her, a man was holding his daughter as if she would disappear from his sight if he didn’t. To be fair, she had done so before.
John had returned to Riverwood not ten minutes ago, and in that time, the parents of the two children had rushed when they heard the news. The two children had practically leapt from his side to their parents. He couldn’t blame them.
The entire situation was traumatizing, and the two were likely to get nightmares. Still, both Dorthe and Frodnar were alright. The same could not be said for the three others he carried.
The two guards were still unconscious, and a brief lookover showed they had signs of bruises on the back of their necks. Stump as well was not faring all too good. While he was able to walk, the audible whimpers that he gave was indication enough, not even mentioning the limp.
It was why he had to shift the unconscious bodies quite awkwardly when Sigrid came up to give him a tight hug.
“Sigrid, let the man go.” Alvor walked up, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder gently, “He needs to get these poor sods somewhere safe. Divines only know what they’ve been through.”
“R-Right.” With one last sniffle, she pulled back, “But dinner’s on us, you hear? I’m not about to let my daughter’s rescuer go just like that.”
“Same with us.” Hod came up with a firm look on his face, “Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened without you, John. If you need anything, just ask.” Hod knelt down and carefully picked up Stump. The dog whined, before he started to wag his tail and leaned towards John.
Hod came a bit closer, Stump stuck his snout up at the former assassin. John smiled as the dog nuzzled against his arm.
With one last nod to everyone, and a small sound of affirmation at Sigrid’s insistence, he made his way to the local inn. Contrary to what most people thought, the owner did have a heart. She was just a bit more focused on profits than charity.
In this case though, John was willing to bet that Delphine would help, no questions asked.
“Welco-ah.” The woman raised her eyebrows at the sight of John. She gave a sigh before reaching under the table, “Left room’s open. Lay them down there.”
John grunted as he had to carefully maneuver around the low hanging wooden beams. Around them, the inn was quiet, a far cry from the norm. The usual was that the inn would be filled to the brim with nearly the entirety of Riverwood’s workers, after a day of hard work.
A drink and some good food usually helped make the harsh Skyrim days bearable, as he was told.
Now, with everyone else having gone to look for the children, and only now coming back, most of them had likely decided to call it a night. That worked just fine for John. These two guards needed all the rest they could have.
“Prop them up for a bit.” Delphine came into the room just as John started to lay his passengers down. John wordlessly did so, with the woman carefully opening the first guard’s mouth and pouring some red liquid down their throat.
Had John not known what that was, he would’ve likely snapped Delphine’s neck by now. Thankfully, he did know. As absurd as it was, it was a healing potion. Another unique quirk of Nirn, as he’d found out. When he’d first taken one, while he was conscious, that is, he had been amazed to see that the small bruises that covered his body faded near instantly.
Similarly, he saw the guard’s sleeping form relax as the potion did its work. Delphine did the same thing to the other one, before they left the two to sleep.
“These two aren’t greenhorns.” Delphine spoke as he closed the door, “Neither is Ergarr. What happened?”
“They were outnumbered, around three to one. Ergarr didn’t make it.” John carefully unbuckled the sword he had recovered before he’d left the mine. Delphine took one look at the weapon before giving a tired sigh.
It was one of the few moments where John saw Delphine for her real age. When one looked at the woman on a usual day, you could see someone near their twilight years, but still held that immovable strength they had earned in their younger years.
Now, he saw a tired woman that was even older than he was, dealing with the death of a good man.
“I’ll send a message to Whiterun tomorrow morning. His family deserves to know, at least.”
“Thank you.”
“That said, how in the Nine did you make it out of there, then?” Delphine narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired man. John could recognize the faint twitch as she resisted grabbing a weapon. He gave no indication that he noticed.
“Got the jump on them, didn’t notice me until it was too late.” He looked Delphine straight on. He hadn’t told any lies, but that hardly mattered when someone as Delphine was involved.
It wasn’t hard to spot her paranoia as well. In fact, it was a miracle no one else saw it. The woman was likely hiding something, yet John didn’t feel the need to pry. Whatever it was, he could see that Delphine was honest in wanting to run the Sleeping Giant Inn.
Finally, after an intense staredown, Delphine nodded and relaxed, “Alright, if you say so. Your usual room’s still free, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
With that said, John made his way into his room. He laid down and softly breathed. It had been a trying day. He’d had to go out and kill once more, a path that he thought he’d finally left. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.
After all, for the first time, he had done something unquestionably good.
John felt a small smile on his face even as he drifted off to a well deserved sleep.
…
The next day, Riverwood was greeted by the sounds of marching. John had been up for a good three hours by then, having woken up at the brink of dawn. The residents of the sleepy town who were awake at the time waved or gave him a solid nod as he passed.
At around eight in the morning, he could faintly hear the telltale sounds of armored boots hitting the stone. John gave a wary glance at Alvor, having been helping the man despite his insistence otherwise. With pursed lips, Alvor nodded.
The sounds came from the south, but that didn’t mean much. It could either be guards from Whiterun proper, or the bandits they all knew camped on the nearby mountain. Either way, they would be wary. If it were the bandits, then there was the possibility that they knew the group from the mine.
Silently, John mulled over his decision to not fight the Orsimer.
Alvor, and the rest of the adults in Riverwood, were given a breakdown of what had happened in Embershard Mine. While they all cursed at the knowledge that three of the kidnappers had lived, they didn’t blame John.
Surprise was one thing. A man could wipe out a company of soldiers if they had the element of surprise. The enemy knowing of the attack, while significantly outnumbering the person, while they also had hostages was another thing.
More than that, when John described the orc’s armor to Alvor, the man had raised both eyebrows in shock. Apparently, the armor was known as Orcish, and known to be one of the strongest armors in all of Skyrim. That a bandit of all things had marked the Orsimer as a force to be reckoned with.
As such, when the sound of marching came, the residents of Riverwood subtly ushered everyone else inside, till it was just himself, Alvor, Sven, Hod, Faendal, and most surprisingly Delphine. All of them held brand new iron swords, forged by Alvor, while Faendal also had his bow and arrows prepared.
They waited, each of them acting as if nothing was wrong. Alvor continued his smithing with John helping to carry whatever he needed. Hod chopped lumber. Even Delphine was ‘inspecting’ the outside of her inn.
After what felt like hours, the sight of a yellow banner came marching into town. A large contingent of yellow-clad guards marched in, numbering near twenty overall. John and the others didn’t relax. For all they knew, these were still bandits that had managed to pilfer guard armors for this. Especially with the Orsimer still at large.
“Halt!” The leading ‘guard’ held up a fist, prompting the entire group to stop, “What is going on here?” The man had noticed the sheer silence that dominated the small town, unlike what he probably expected.
“That’s what I want to know.” Alvor stepped out with a hand on his blade, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Are you daft, old man?” A younger voice spoke from beside the leader of the group, “Can’t you see we’re guards?”
“Forgive me when I say I want to see some proof of that claim first.” Alvor’s eyes flashed dangerously as John silently made his way behind them. Similarly, he could spot Delphine do the same on the other side.
“What? Is the banner not enough for you?” The leader of the group, who had turned to glare at the younger soldier, shifted his gaze to Alvor.
“Not particularly. Now, proof.”
“We serve the Jarl of Whiterun, what more proof do-”
“Is everything alright?” A female stepped out from behind them. Dark haired, with somewhat tanned skin. She wore a set of banded iron armor, and had a massive greataxe strapped to her back. The moment she appeared, Alvor let out a sigh of relief.
“Nyssa, thank the Eight. Alright everyone, they’re real.”
The residents of Riverwood relaxed. Hod hollered to his own home, and that set off a chain as all the doors opened back up, the rest of Riverwood’s residents coming out.
The guards, because they really were guards, looked baffled. The guard at the front looked to Alvor in askance, but it was the woman, Nyssa, that asked the question.
“Alright, what was that about?”
“Come on, Nyssa, I’ll explain in the inn. John, you joining us?” The last part was thrown in John’s direction. Apparently, none of the guards noticed the man, as when they turned in his direction, they let out cries of surprise. A single nod was given, and, after Nyssa told the guard to let her take care of it, the four of them made their way inside the Sleeping Giant.
They sat comfortably on a table, Alvor nodding to them, “Right, introductions. John, this is Nyssa. Nyssa, this is John.”
“A pleasure.” Nyssa seemed genuine despite her words being so clipped.
“Same.” John could relate.
“Right, as for all of that, you’ll have to forgive us.” Alvor frowned as he gripped his fists into balls, “Bandits kidnapped Dorthe and Frodnar yesterday. We couldn’t be sure that the guards were really guards.”
“Kidnapped?” Nyssa frowned, before starting to get up, “Where did they go? I can head there to rescue them right now.”
“No need, but thank you.” Alvor chuckled, “John here already did so last night. He can probably tell you more about it.”
“You did, huh?” Nyssa relaxed, before sitting back down, “Then I suppose a thanks is in order.”
“It was no problem.” John gave her a nod, “Just…it wasn’t without casualties.”
“...the guards, you mean?”
“Ergarr was dead before I even found him.” To John, the words sounded clinical, but there was no nice way of putting it, “The other two are in that room, still unconscious.” While their wounds were healed, they had still taken some nasty blows, and would likely be out of commission for a while.
“...I see.” With a grimace, Nyssa grabbed an empty flagon and motioned for Delphine, who had returned to her duties with no one the wiser. A moment later, her flagon was filled with wine, as well as two more. Wordlessly, she raised hers as Alvor and John did the same.
“I’ll make sure his body makes it back to Whiterun.” A grim, yet thankful nod came from both men. A moment of silence passed between them, before Nyssa shook her head.
“I doubt the man would enjoy us drinking ourselves to death. You must be wondering why Whiterun finally sent more guards here, aren’t you?”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Well, I told you I’d repay you, didn’t I?” Nyssa gave a chuckle, “Managed to convince the Jarl to provide some more protection here. Easier to do so when I’m a Thane now.”
“You, a Thane?” John didn’t know the word, but he assumed it was a noble title, or something along those lines, “Girl, you told me you haven’t even been in the country for a month when you stayed here.”
“And I wasn’t. The title was more of a reward when we took down that dragon.”
“Dragon.” Alvor looked at her like she was insane. Had John not been in control of his emotions, then it was possible he would have done so as well.
“Yeah, I absorbed its soul or something. Turns out, I might just be this Dragonborn or something.”
“Dragonborn.”
“You alright there, Alvor? You look a little pale.”
Alvor gave no response as he downed his flagon, John feeling confused. The term was familiar, but he just couldn’t put his finger on why.
He’d probably find out once Alvor finished his sudden bout of alcoholism.
…
Commissioned by: brutalcrab
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