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Power Corrupts: Backroom Deals (ch. 42)
🕑 Added 2020-07-25 15:01:08 +0000 UTCRight. So, I was about face level with a loli vampire who was about three centuries old. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.
"Is there something wrong?" Babette questioned sweetly, blinking at me as she gave a bashful smile. My shift into 'oh shit' mode didn't go unnoticed by her. And I knew better than to think that my reaction would be brushed off by a trained assassin with several centuries of experience under her belt, childish appearance or not.
All I could do was put her on the back foot.
"So, is this a sizing me up thing or did someone already perform the black sacrament on me?" I questioned, making Babette blink in surprise, but otherwise there was no hint of her being caught off guard. She twirled a lily between her fingers, still giving me an innocent child-like smile that had been perfected over who knew how many years. All the while, my every muscle tensed, ready to punch her in the face if she lunged for my throat. It was the only gap in my armor, so I knew where she would attack.
Then she giggled, "The former. I had heard rumors about you already, especially how quickly you seem to travel across Skyrim. Given your talents, it was only going to be a matter of time before someone prayed to Sithis to claim your life. Best know what we're getting into." Her smile became a tad too sharp, revealing a hint of the fangs that betrayed her true nature, "I am surprised that you knew who I am. As far as I'm aware, everyone that has seen me work my trade is dead."
"I have my ways," I deflected evenly. "But this is lucky on my part."
Babette giggled again, and this time it sounded absolutely sinister. "I would hardly say that this was lucky for you."
My eyes narrowed. "Vampire or not, I can reduce your head to a fine mist before you can think to move," I warned her. "Might be awkward to explain, but once I head to the sanctuary you have nearby, butcher every member of the Dark Brotherhood inside and bring their heads to the Jarl, I think that'll clear things up." To that, a dangerous gleam entered Babette's eyes.
That was the stick. Time for the carrot.
"But," I continued after a brief pause. "That's only if you force my hand by doing something stupid. Us meeting like this is lucky because I have an offer for your brotherhood. An offer that Astrid will like to hear." Using their names and hinting that I knew exactly where to find them. A subtle threat that put me in a position of power because not only did they know next to nothing about me, but they had no idea how I knew.
"And what would this offer be?" Babette questioned, the cheerful innocence in her voice gone like smoke in the wind. Nothing about her expression or body language changed, but it didn't feel like I was kneeling before a child anymore. It felt like I had just cornered a dangerous animal and I was waiting for it to lunge for my throat. The only thing keeping it back was the threat of the proverbial sword in my hand.
"A contract of sorts," I started. This was another reason I wanted to come to Falkreath, so I knew exactly what I wanted from the Dark Brotherhood. "My familia and companions are off-limits. And whoever attempts to put a hit on them is killed instead, and you will tell me who they were. In exchange, the same gift I just gave Jarl Siddgeir will be given to the Dark Brotherhood every year."
"I'm afraid what contracts we accept aren't up to us," Babette hedged.
"I think we both know that isn’t true," I refuted. They lacked a Listener and the Night Mother, and if I had my way then they always would. Babette's lips thinned as I continued to reveal knowledge that I really shouldn't know. "It's a good deal. A king's ransom every year for next to no work and your lives. Because if you ever do go after anyone that I care about… there are a lot of fates worse than death. And you'll experience all of them before I allow you to kill yourselves."
I meant it. All the way down to the marrow of my bones, I meant it. If the Dark Brotherhood came after anyone I cared about then it would become my life mission to ensure that they died screaming.
"Very well. It's an interesting offer, at the very least. I shall bring it to the Brotherhood. You will learn of our answer shortly," Babette informed as she began to walk off. I watched her go and melt into the crowd with unnatural ease. It didn't take more than a second for me to lose sight of her.
I straightened up, dropping the flowers as I did so, and let out a small breath. It was a gamble, but I liked my odds. With this, I didn't have to worry about a contract being taken out on anyone's head. And it would be a good way to find out who my enemies were. Because, no matter how I looked at it, I was going to make enemies along the way. If they could kill themselves by trying to kill me, then that was all the better.
It all depended on how the Brotherhood responded, but given it was a choice between certain death and getting rich, I had a good feeling about their answer.
Picking the opposite direction that Babette had picked, I resumed my search for Aela and Farkas. Until I had Astrid’s answer, I should keep a close eye on them. Just in case. I wandered my way towards the second gate to the city, and it was then that Aela and Farkas showed up.
“Jericho. How’d the talk with Jarl go?” Aela questioned as she approached, her arms crossed.
“Fine. He gave me a to-do list of things to take care of. I was going to deal with one of them now before the feast,” I said, gesturing to the encampment on the other side of the gates. I could see Orc guards patrolling it. I couldn’t tell how large it was or how populated, but given that every population in every settlement was scaled up, I was willing to bet on a lot. “And at the end of it, he promised that being made Thane would be my lowest reward.”
Aela let out a huff as Farkas munched on an apple, looking out at the Orc encampment. “And you believed him?”
I shrugged, “I’m sure he’s exaggerating a bit, but I pretty much bought his friendship already. Once I start producing results, he’s going to bend over backward to stay on my good side.” Especially when I deal with his most problematic problem between conversations in a single day.
“Well, we should probably get started then,” Farkas decided, feeding the rest of his apple to a horse that passed him by. “Orcs are a stubborn lot.”
Aela nodded at that, “Truth.” She muttered, sounding like she had experienced that first hand. With that, I led the way towards the encampment. However, once we stepped out of the walls, Aela continued the conversation. “He will support you being made Jarl?”
“He doesn’t know about that yet,” I explained. “Figured I should break the ice a bit before announcing that I planned on becoming his new neighbor and taking a bite out of his territory.” I bribed my way into his good graces, I proved myself as a warrior by pretty much fixing every problem in his Hold, then I drop the bomb that I was going to become the tenth Jarl. Probably hand over another bribe to soothe things over.
“Good thinking. Jarl Siddgeir is a man that’s very protective of what he deems his,” Aela remarked, a dark edge in her tone. I glanced over my shoulder at her, wondering where that was coming from. It was starting to sound like her grudge ran deeper than getting cheated on a job. Aela caught my look before she sighed. “He’s not a man that enjoys being told no.”
Oh.
“He would be dead if he tied to force himself on me,” Aela reassured, reading my expression. “He made advances when we had come to collect the bounties. When I protested his ‘due’, he offered an alternative for how we could earn the amount we were owed. Then he acted like a child when I refused.” That wasn’t much better -- he tried to make Aela a whore for money that she was owed.
“Surprised Skjor didn’t kill him,” Farkas remarked as we walked down the road. I could feel the eyes of Orcs hidden in the trees watching us move towards their camp, but no one stopped us.
“I’ve been telling you, there is nothing between me and Skjor. We lay together when we feel the need, but it’s hardly like we’re married," Aela scoffed with a shake of her head. I thought back to the look they shared back when I officially joined the Companions. That look hadn't struck me as a fuck-buddy look.
I wasn't the only one to think so. My gaze met Farkas', who shook his head. "Does Skjor know that?" I questioned, making Aela scowl at me.
"The two of you are worse than fish wives," she accused. "My love life is neither of your concern."
I shrugged, "Fair enough. We have more important things to deal with," I remarked, turning to the road. A group of orcs stood in our way. They wore armor with a green hue to it, but they left their torsos bare and their arms were covered with vambraces. White war paint stood out against their green skin, intricate designs covering their bodies and faces.
"You near the camp of Dushnikh Yal. Turn and flee, outsiders," the middle one announced, hefting a large two-handed war axe onto his shoulder. I noticed that carvings were etched into his tusks and they were dyed black and green. That must have hurt.
"I'm Jericho, Thane of Whiterun and here on behalf of Jarl Siddgeir," I informed, trying to sound as official as possible. "I would like to speak to your chief about the raids happening in his Hold."
The Orc with the carved tusks turned and spat on the ground, "We have nothing to say to outsiders." He informed me, making my expression go flat.
"Okay. How about this -- you take us to your chief, or we find him ourselves," I offered, not breaking my stride. I unsheathed my ebony greatsword from my back, letting it rest of my shoulder as I continued to meet his gaze. "But that would make things pretty awkward if we have to fight our way to him when we're just here to talk."
The Orc narrowed his eyes, "You dare challenge me?" He questioned as I finally came to a stop directly in front of him. Orcs were taller than most. Everyone else was around six feet and under, but the Orcs before me hovered around six and a half feet tall. Which meant that I was still a head and shoulders taller than them.
"I believe that's my line," I informed lowly, looking down at the Orc. His eyes were so dark that they seemed black, I noticed as I looked down. His nose was flat and wide, though it looked like it had been broken several times in his life. The sides of his head were shaved, revealing pointed ears, and the top of his head was covered in a strip of black hair that was pulled into a ponytail.
The staring contest lasted for a moment, then two, then it stretched on for a full minute with neither of us backing down. Eventually, the Orc let out a huff, "You're worth meeting, Outsider. Very well, follow us."
With that, the Orc turned around and started walking. The other orcs spread out around us, likely knowing better than to think it would stop us from escaping but it was a deterrent. I made a show of placing my sword back on my back as I followed them in silence. They led us through the woods, moving off the main highway.
The camp itself was large like I expected. Several dozen yurt-like tents were propped up, each large enough to hold a family. Orcs wandered between the tents, only to stop and stare as we walked through a central walkway. Most of them were warriors, weapons in their belts, and they wore hide with orichalcum armor. There were plenty of women too, some also wearing armor to. But, I noticed every single one that wasn't wearing armor was pregnant. Noticeably so, and more interestingly, they all seemed around six months or so along.
At the center of the camp was the largest tent. The Orc came to a stop in front of it while the gaps between the tents filled up with Orcs. Men, women, and children. And it was then that I realized the Orcs that surrounded me, Aela and Farkas were to keep the others away rather than keep us from escaping.
It seemed that word of our approach had gotten ahead of us because the tent flap to the large tent was pushed to the side to reveal a large Orc. He was closer to seven feet tall than not, his chest and arms were bare to reveal powerful muscles wrapped in leathery green skin. Much like the Orc that led us here, the sides of his head were shaved and a long braid was formed out of it. A thick gold ring pierced one tusk while iron clasps pierced the top parts of his ears.
“I am Chief Burguk,” He announced himself, his voice booming and carrying over. His black eyes bore into me, giving Aela and Farkas no thought at all. “Speak your piece, lapdog.” He said, putting on a show that he was still the toughest person here despite being a half foot shorter than me.
“The raids on villages and farmsteads need to stop,” I said, deciding to be direct. At that, Chief Burguk scoffed, shaking his head.
“Then allow my people to buy food,” He fired back in a challenging tone. “Your laws mean little to me, Outsider. Certainty not enough to let my people, my children, starve.”
All of a sudden, it felt like I was missing a critical piece to this puzzle. I had assumed that they were raiding for supplies and wealth, but more of a stocking up measure rather than avoiding starvation. It sounded like he was saying that he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“Falkreath won’t let you buy food?” I questioned, making Chief Burguk let out a noise of disgust that was echoed throughout the encampment.
“You come here challenging me on matters you know nothing about, Outsider. No, Falkreath nor Markarth will allow my people entry to buy food. You weak bloods fear us and refuse us entry to your cities as if we’re savages that will burn them to the ground the first chance we get.” He spat at me, anger coloring his tone. “So we raid for the supplies we need to make the pilgrimage.”
Okay. The picture was getting clearer. People didn’t want the Orcs near them or their possessions so they banned them from entry, which prompted the Orcs to raid them, and the next village down didn’t want to get raided so they did the same thing and that in turn got them raided.
“Nice motive, but still murder. There are alternatives between starving to death and murdering people for their shit,” I said. I got it. I did. I knew myself at this point. I really did. If it came to a choice between Hestia going hungry or someone else? I was going to pick someone else every single time. Right or wrong, I knew deep in my gut that’s the choice I would make. Even if she hated me for it. “Merchants exist for pretty much this exact reason. Pay one of them to be your middle man. If what I’ve heard is true, then you can probably afford it.”
Chief Barguk clearly didn’t care for that, rounding on me and stood so close we were practically touching. He might have been intimidating if I wasn’t the one looking down at him.
“And trust an Outsider with the lives of my people? What promise do I have that they will keep their word? How do I know they won’t simply run off with our coin or poison the food before delivering it to us?” He challenged, and that was a fair rebuttal.
“Take collateral and shove a bit of everything in their mouth. If they croak, then you know not to eat it,” I refuted. “Look, I’m not saying that you aren’t being dealt a shit hand and you aren’t making hard choices. What I am saying is that the raiding will be coming to an end. Innocent people don’t need to die so you can eat.”
“Are you trying to give me an order?” Chief Burguk whispered dangerously, murder in his tone.
“I’m making an offer,” I corrected. “Send my companions back into the city and they’ll buy the food that you need. I’ll stay here as collateral. When they come back, I’ll taste the food. When I don’t die, you all pack up and continue to Orsinium with a promise that when the time comes, none of you will raid Falkreath Hold.” I continued, my voice just as low as his, refusing to back down.
If it came to a fight, then I liked my chances. There were a lot of them, but between my weapons and armor, I could cut through most of them like butter. The only issue would be their numbers, a couple hundred or so, but I didn’t have to kill all of them. Just enough to make a point. Just enough that they broke.
Chief Burguk scoffed, "You want blood oaths that we won't return to this Hold? You'll have to best every warrior here in combat."
"Fine," I agreed easily. "I'll fight all of you to get that oath. Are we doing it with weapons? Individual duels or all at once?"
That seemed to catch the Chief flat-footed. Just how easily I accepted that condition as well as my confidence. His black eyes searched mine for a moment, looking for a sign of deceit, but he found none. Oddly enough, that got a smile out of him.
"Heh. You don't lack confidence Outsider," he remarked. But that good cheer lasted for only a second. "You say you're here on behalf of the Jarl? Then you can get my people their food and your companions can be the collateral. I like the idea of a Thane being my errand boy," he added with a sneer.
That was fine. It should be easier for me to get food.
"And the oaths?" I questioned, keeping my tone even.
"Hand to hand combat. No armor or enchantments. Three hundred duels. And we'll pack up and continue on our way," Chief Burguk decided. It was about as good of an offer as I was going to get. I stuck out a hand and he clasped my forearm, squeezing down on it as a show of dominance. I didn't squeeze back, but I came to a decision as I stared him in the eyes.
"And anything that happens to my friends, I'll do to you," I warned him, letting go of his forearm. I didn't care to listen to his response in favor of sending Aela and Farkas a look, which they met. Farkas gave a careless shrug while Aela gave me a reassuring nod to show that they were okay with this.
The same Orcs led me out of the encampment and passed along a wagon full of treasure and gold looted from villages and farmsteads. I accepted it and reentered the city and found myself in the market place.
Where I then proceeded to buy every scrap of food that I could. From vegetables to fish to venison to fruit to everything else in between. Slowly, the cart full of money was replaced with food. The worst part about it was that the feast had already picked through the best bits, so there were slim pickings in some regards, but I cleared out the market place. And to ensure that there wasn't any bitching on their end, I loaded up my own wagon with food from my inventory that was looted from various bandit camps.
Attaching myself to the one that they gave me, I stripped off and inventoried my armor, leaving me in black pants and a white long-sleeve. Pushing both wagons back to the encampment, the Orcs were waiting for me.
"You're a fool if you think you can challenge us all," he informed as I pushed the wagons back to the encampment.
"And you're a fool for thinking that three hundred of you is enough to challenge me," I returned, pushing two wagons stuffed with food with no trouble. The Orc looked back at me, a hint of unease in his posture. I could tell that he didn't like how confident I was. Because it was either baseless… or deserved.
It didn't take long to find myself surrounded by Orcs once again, "The front wagon is mine but you're welcome to what's in it," I said, eyeing Aela and Farkas. From the looks of it, the worst that they had suffered was an hour of boredom. I was glad for that.
Chief Burguk looked over the wagons as a few warriors unloaded them. There was some excited muttering as the people saw all of the food, with a few kids running forward to jump into a box of apples. However, he brushed them off easily enough before he tossed an apple at me. I caught it and took a large bite out of it with no hesitation. The food wasn't poisoned.
I could tell the Chief wanted to say something about the money he gave me, but he couldn't when I turned up with two wagons full of supplies. Easily enough to send them in their way including whatever they had looted.
"So, let me get those oaths and we'll both be on our ways," I said, making a show of taking off my shirt. I rolled my shoulders, showing off just how built I was. The Chief looked at me for a moment, as if he had just realized I had been serious. He let out a huff before he nodded.
"Good," he said. "The ring will be made here," he decided, and with a wave of his hand, several Orcs ran off and grabbed stones. They formed a large ring in the central area, enough room for us to maneuver, but not enough that we could really get away from each other. That was fine with me.
I could feel that the crowd was against me, but that was hardly unsurprising. This was a home game for them. I stepped inside of the ring, my hands by my sides as Chief Burguk stepped inside as well. He was feeling confident. That would change soon enough.
"Should I win this duel, I claim your wagon, weapon, and armor as spoils," he informed, earning a nod from me. If he had said something stupid like trying to claim Aela, I probably would have just killed him.
"And when I win, I get that oath. You may never raid or steal from Falkreath Hold ever again for the remainder of your life," I returned. It was tempting to try to get more than that, but if I tried to make them swear off raiding entirely then when I proved that they wouldn’t be able to beat me, then none of them would challenge me and I wouldn’t get any oath at all. If I left it open ended enough then they would fight me just to see if they could win.
"It is agreed," Chief Burguk decided with a nod, looking over at an elderly female Orc with stark white hair. She nodded at both of us before she raised a hand slowly.
Then she brought it down. The crowd roared the moment that the match began, and I saw Chief Burguk throw a fist with my expanded vision. Yet, I chose not to move out of the way. I clenched my jaw and felt his large fist slam into it -- I could feel the force behind the blow. It was a punch that Mike Tyson in his prime would dream of throwing. If I was a normal human, that would have laid me out flat at best and killed me outright at worst.
But I wasn't a regular human.
I didn't flinch at the blow, taking it on the chin like it was a love tap. Slowly, I looked back at him, and to his credit, Chief Burguk reacted well. Instead of hesitating, he slammed a fist into my stomach, directly into my diaphragm. Again, I felt the blows, but I didn't react to them. An unyielding wall of flesh and muscle that needed a hell of a lot more than that to make me give way.
I looked Chief Burguk in the eyes, and now I saw that they were filled with uncertainty. I didn't smile or glare. I just uttered a single word that I knew would destroy him.
"Weak."
To prove that point, my fist moved in a blur and caught him in the side of the face. I pulled the punch, but even still, he flipped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He didn't get up.
The crowd was suddenly very silent as they watched me one-shot their chief, so when I spoke again, the word carried across the encampment.
"Next."
…
"That was something else," Farkas remarked, three hundred fights and about five hours later. I had thought that I would have scared some off after one-shotting the first dozen or so warriors, but I didn’t. Warriors -- both men, and women -- fought me and I extracted that same oath from all of them. Three hundred duels and three hundred punches.
The camp began packing up as soon as they were done, intent on following through on their end of the bargain and to get away from me. Just like that, the problem was solved.
And people said that violence never solved anything.
"You are lucky that we were there to witness your duels, else no one else would believe it," Aela agreed with a nod. I shrugged my shoulders as I pushed my empty cart back into Falkreath to see the guards staring at the departing Orcs in confusion. Hopefully, Chief Burguk would remain unconscious until his clan departed.
"Eh, wasn't that big of a deal," I dismissed. "I'm more worried about the loopholes that they're going to exploit. Those kids are exempt and so is the next generation. Give it twenty years or so, and nothing will have really changed." All because I wasn't willing to punch children and pregnant women in the face. Having morals was a real pain in the ass.
Aela and Farkas shared a look before deciding not to comment on my easy dismissal of the feat. I understood that it was impressive by normal people's standards, but for me, that was hours of wasted time. None of them came close to being called a challenge and I got paltry amounts of exp since each duel was considered a quest.
"Probably should have gone with something like 'and no child you father can raid the Hold either.'" I noted, my eyes scanning for any signs of the Dark Brotherhood. Just in case. "Would have worked better with how Orc Strongholds work."
Farkas made a noise of acknowledgment, "Maybe, but that kind of commitment would have scared more than a few of them off."
"Would have worked for the current chief, at least," I responded. In the end, it was too late to really do anything about it.
Aela let out a small huff, "Always struck me as odd how they do things. Only the chief has the right to marry and have children -- what do the rest of them do in the meantime?"
"Train so that they can be chief," Farkas answered instantly.
"Sex is one hell of a motivator to work out," I agreed with a nod, returning my wagon back to the storage place. And, just in case, I placed a heavy chest of gold inside of the wagon. For when the Dark Brotherhood accepted my contract.
"Men," Aela responded with more than a little exasperation. Farkas let out a laugh at that before he turned to us when he saw a guard waving us down.
"I'll go deal with the explanation," he decided, walking off as we continued our way to the warehouse.
After a moment, Aela continued. "Jericho, you're the lover of a Divine. Would you still even want a harem?" She questioned and it was very clear that the correct answer to that question was no.
That is not what I said.
"Well…" I trailed off, making Aela look at me with indignant disgust. "Look, me and Hestia have this thing. She was a virgin goddess before she met me-"
"Are you truly bragging about deflowering a goddess?" Aela interjected, making me shake my head.
"No, I'm giving context. I used to have this problem where my stamina far outstripped hers and she felt inadequate. So, she decided that others could join us in bed as long as she approves of them," I explained and, wow, that really did sound like it came right from a smut plotline. Aela blinked as she processed that.
"Really?" She questioned with narrowed eyes.
"Really. Have I lied to you yet?" I asked, turning to face Aela, who gave me a measuring look in response. She seemed to mull that over for a few seconds and when she continued, her voice was perfectly even.
"Did Divine Hestia approve of me?" Aela questioned, her tone even but the fact that she had asked betrayed her interest. It was my turn to give her a measured look. It wasn't like I hadn't thought about it, but I was surprised she was showing interest. But, more than that, I was by far more concerned with dealing with Alduin than getting my dick wet.
There was a small beat of silence before I answered, "She wouldn't have offered for you to join the familia if she didn't."
"I see," Aela responded, not saying anything else.
"Will you join?" I asked, seeing a conflicted expression pass over her face. She looked away from me as her shoulders slumped.
"I am… uncertain," Aela admitted. "Being a werewolf is a part of who I am. I never once considered giving up the gift. And now that I am faced with this choice, I am indecisive. I am sorry," she said, knowing that wasn't what I wanted to hear.
But, before I could say anything, someone pushed the door to the warehouse open. A look over proved it to be Nenya.
"Thane of Whiterun," she greeted me with a polite bow. "I hear that the encampment has been… dealt with?" She questioned, sounding like she didn't quite believe it.
"It has," I answered. "I had to buy some food for them and fight a couple of duels to extract a promise that the current generation of warriors wouldn't raid this Hold. So, there's a grace period for at least a decade."
"A couple hundred duels," Aela corrected. "The first of which was against Chief Burguk." She added, making Nenya's eyes widen a fraction. She turned her gaze to me, giving me an appraising look over. Likely noted my lack of wounds or even bruises.
"I see that you are more capable than rumors would lead me to believe," she noted. "And a fast worker. Your arrival has been a stroke of good luck for the Hold," she said, giving me another polite bow.
"Jarl Siddgeir gave me a job to do, so I did it," I dismissed with a shrug. It felt weird getting praised for what amounted to busy work in the end.
"Just so, the feast being held in your honor will be a lavish one. Anything less would be a slight on your honor," she informed, dropping the hint that I was supposed to be less humble. "Might I ask if you are currently in the possession of fine feasting clothing? Please pardon my presumptiveness, but given that it would not be traditional traveling attire I am compelled to ask."
I glanced at Aela, who shook her head. "No, we don't," I informed, earning a nod.
"Then may I make a recommendation of Final Touch Tailor? The owner is a tailor that I trust implicitly, and she can prepare worthy clothing for you on short notice. I can offer a writ waving off any fees, as well," Nenya offered, and I nodded, knowing that it was simpler to just go with the flow in this case.
"Sounds fine to me."
...
It wasn't fine. For hours I was stuck standing around in a T-pose as a tailor rushed around me to assemble an outfit for me. My only consolation was that Farkas and Aela were suffering alongside me. The tailor tried various different fabrics and colors, but in the end, she settled on an outfit that didn't look half bad.
My torso was covered in a wine-red coat marked with gold trimming. My pants were black, matching the boots I wore, with a bear pelt shrugged over my shoulders and held together with a gold clasp marked with emeralds and sapphires. I looked good. The outfit really made me blend in with the locals.
And now it was a case of waiting for me to join the feast. I faced a heavy oak door, my foot bouncing impatiently as I heard someone shout on the other side. The side with the actual feast.
“Introducing Jericho, First Child to the Divine Hestia. Thane of Whiterun. Recoverer of Wuuthrad, the legendary weapon wielded by Ysgramor. He who dueled three hundred Orc Berserkers in single combat. Slayer of the Dragon Priest Krosis, and draugr Deathlords. Companion to the legendary Companions. Slayer of bandits and protector of the innocent,” Some guy rattled off my titles and I really had racked up quite a few of them in my brief time in Skyrim.
As the guy finished, the doors cracked open and I strode into the hall. Unlike before, the hall was in full swing -- the tables were packed with people, all of which stared at me. All of them were finely dressed, and even the servers were dressed nicely. I knew enough that tables marked who was important and who wasn't, with my destination being the high table, seated next to Jarl Siddgeir.
The Jarl in question raised a mug towards me as I approached. I took my seat next to him and he leaned over while Aela was being introduced. “Nicely done,” he remarked, but I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about in that moment. Aela strode forward, wearing a long flowing wine-red dress that left her arms exposed while it clasped around her neck with a gold necklace. For the first time I saw her without the green face paint and her hair in a coiled braid.
Stunning was the least I could say about her as she strode across the hall. She took a seat next to me, shooting me a sly smirk when she noticed the look I was giving her.
Farkas came next, his list of titles equal to my own to mark a long history of work in the Companions. Once he was seated, Jarl Siddgeir rose to his feet and raised a glass of ale.
“Let the feast begin!” He announced, much to the cheer of everyone. Music started playing as food was being served in droves -- roasted pigs, venison, mud crab, fruits and vegetables. Lavish was a good word for it.
“Winter will be hard for these people,” Aela remarked. “Between the feast and giving all of that food to the Orcs?” She elaborated, making my lips thin in thought. That wasn’t something I had really considered. There were dozens of faces down below that ate and cheered, some of them raising their glasses when my gaze met theirs in a toast. I returned the gesture, but all the while my mind wondered how many of those people would end up going hungry in the coming months because of what I did.
But… in the end, that really wasn’t my problem, was it? I solved their Orc problem, I was going to solve their bandit problem, and if they proved incapable, I would solve their food problem too.
Before I could answer, I felt a hand glide over my shoulders as someone leaned in to fill my cup of ale. I felt warm breath tickle my ear, I wouldn’t have thought anything about it if the person didn’t say what they did next.
“The Dark Brotherhood accepts your contract,” A woman informed in a voice just above a whisper. I leaned into my chair as she lingered, my heart starting to pound harder than when I had fought those duels.
“Then the chest in my wagon is yours,” I returned.
“Our thanks… and a contract was taken out on your head,” She informed me, making me stiffen. The lingering touch vanished and I resisted the urge to look around. My gaze scanned the room, wondering who exactly was the one that had put a contract on my head-
I had my answer when my eyes found Nenya. She swayed dangerously where she stood, a glass in hand before it numbly fell from her fingers. The noise drew some attention, then more when she stumbled back a step, a tear of blood escaping and running down her cheek. Her chest heaved once, then she simply went still and collapsed where she was.
Instantly, people rushed to her aid, clueless to what had happened. Everyone one but me and the assassin that had just performed the deed.
I took a sip of my ale, the awful taste washing over my tongue.
I do love it when a plan comes together.
Comments
Ahtu Nyarlathotep
Giving me flashbacks to the mountain from game of thrones.
Jcxxx1990
Hilarious one punching 300 Orcs one after the other, I wonder when the other tribes hear of the deed a few chief’s daughters like Borgakh the Steel Heart might think they should seek out Jericho lol. As Jericho’s legend in Skyrim grows will the Thalmor send a army to take him out or try a more subtle approach?
Benjamin Lawton
Huh. So does that mean Nenya was a Thalmor plant, after all? Being intimidated and wary of Jericho because of his power and rapidly-rising influence is one thing, but to go so far so soon as to invoke the Black Sacrament on him? Why, it's almost like Nenya didn't <i>want</i> the land to be properly peaceful!
