1st of Sun's Height, 4E 188
The heat rose in visible waves from the stone lining Wayrest's streets. The sounds of the busy markets filled the already heavy air: merchants declaring theirs to be the greatest bargains, foreigners falling into the various road-side traps prepared for them, priests calling citizens (and each other) to repentance, animals communicating in their own baying, neighing, trumpeting and cawing. The docks on the south-west end of the city, squatting over the Bjoulsae River with a view of the shores of Hammerfell on the horizon, were just as busy as the main Boulevard, but significantly more temperate thanks to the water; the payoff was the grim knowledge that one would smell like fish for a week.
Merchants and tourists alike stepped into Wayrest from the docks, if they didn't feel like braving the roads (though, with recent pirate activity reported, it was a gamble either way). The customs officers patrolled the planks, their teams searching through cargo and personal possessions with equal scrutiny. With a single gesture, they held the power to ruin a captain's entire week. Most of them knew it, too, and made sure they took advantage of it as often as possible. Edmond Porcher was a shining example of one such officer.
Every morning, just before the sun rose, he would rise from his bed, utter a short prayer to Zenithar on his way out the door, down the street to the cornerclub, where he met up with his team. Never more than four or five in number, Edmond made sure that all but one of them had necks thicker than most thighs. Nords, most often, though he'd hired an unusually bulky Redguard and even an orc once or twice. The final member of the team, the one that the others tended to ignore, was the leanest, slimiest-looking dockrat he could find. He prized himself on this bit of duplicity; the captains would have their crews tailing the men standing above the crowd. Nobody would notice the skinny little Bosmer with a fishing pole. They might even ask him to take some illicit cargo into the folds of his cloak until Edmond had moved on to other prey.
Today, Edmond had struck gold. A big galleon, full of men who collectively appeared to have not set foot on solid land since the War, had cast their line right up onto one of his piers. He'd pounced before they even finished tying down the first rope. Rather, he'd had his men pounce. Edmond himself stood right in the middle of the milling crowd further back, the last obstacle between the ship's crew and their time on shore. His rat, a Khajiit this week, was heading towards him from the ship, doing his best to look inconspicuous. Edmond felt that the attempt had the exact opposite effect on the lanky furball, and made a note to dock it from his pay. Edmond looked up from his checkboard as the Khajiit drew closer, only to have it knocked from his hands when something slammed into his lower back, sending him sprawling down on the ground.
The Breton did his best to gather his strength under himself before he was trampled alive. He looked up at whatever had rammed him, and saw a little blonde Bosmer girl dashing away, trying to lose herself in the crowd. Moments later, a trio of Breton boys stopped nearby, glanced around for a moment, before taking off after her.
"Blasted kids," Edmond muttered to himself as he readied his atrophied muscles to chase off after his clipboard, before some skooma-addled sailor kicked it off into the river.
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Kirstiel could only spare a second to mutter an apology to the Breton she'd smashed into. She wasn't even sure he heard it, but if the boys caught up with her... Well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd returned to the orphanage with bruises instead of fish. She squeezed through the crowd with ease, more cautious now to avoid any more collisions. Her slight figure gave her the advantage here, but if she didn't build enough of a head start, then she'd be dead meat once it started to thin out.
"Get back here, bait-breath!" she heard one of the boys chasing her shout from way too close behind. She doubled her efforts. Just a few more streets down...
Her feet left the wood-stone architecture that made up the main pier, and fell onto the smooth stone walkways of one of the side-streets. If she went north and east a little, she'd run right smack into the Boulevard. The boys would catch her well before then, though; she only had to make it two more streets up.
She darted under a cart, giving the donkey pulling it a start and earning her a tongue-lashing from the old woman at the reins. She swung left into the alley between a blacksmith and a bakery, and slowed when she got within a foot or two of the dead end. Soot and flour had both mixed on the ground, creating a fine black layer of powder almost two inches thick. She left footprints, but her's weren't the only ones in the alley. As she heard the voices of the boys draw nearer, her heart still pounding in her ears, she fought panic.
"Matthias? Matthias, are you here?!" They said they'd be waiting here, they promised, they better be, if they're not I'm so dead, and after Miss Evesa gave me one last chance but said they had to look out for me, they wouldn't lie, not Matthias.
"Shhhh," came the reply from above, a calming splash of cool water on the heat that had been building into full-fledged terror.
She looked up, and there he was. A young boy, younger than the ones chasing her, was perched on top of the dividing wall at the end of the alley. His short brown hair was a mess (not that her pale blonde used-to-be-ponytail was in better shape), and his tan skin had black marks drawn in circular shapes on every visible inch. His silver eyes brought her comfort. Even though he didn't stand a chance against the boys, it was nice to know she wouldn't have to suffer alone.
"Where did she go?" came the call from around the bend as one of the boys stumbled past the alley. He did a double-take, before answering his own question, "Got her!"
The other two joined him quickly, and they marched into the alley, past the side doors to the businesses on either side, doing their best to have the entire alley covered in case she should dart off again.
"So, d'ya bring us more money this time?" the biggest one asked. He had to be getting close to thirteen, and his muscles showed he had a promising career as a dockworker, if he kept up the same enterprising spirit that had him intimidating little children. He wore a sleeveless shirt, pants that just barely went down past his knee, and had his hair cropped short. The sneer on his face was probably a permanent attribute, too.
Before Kirstiel could answer, Matthias jumped down. It was only a six or seven foot drop, but when he landed it sent a puff of soot into the air. He rose up, struck his best intimidating pose (well-practiced, but even still not all that frightening coming from a ten-year old, especially to somebody who's just left prepubescence behind).
"Picking on girls now, Dimitri?"
"Who the-- back off, kid, we're just here for the little squirrel's coin. We don't want to have to beat up both of you, do we guys?"
Dimitri's two lackeys chuckled.
"I dunno, Di, it might not be a bad idea. Send a message: you come on our turf, you gotta pay."
"I like the way you think, Nate."
The boys fanned out even further, and started flexing and rolling up their sleeves.
"Tell you what. You both give us all your coin, and we'll let you off easy. One-time offer."
Matthias took a few steps in front of Kirstiel, and spread his arms out to show off the swirling lines drawn across his naked torso.
"Don't you guys know who I am?" he asked.
"An ash-covered mouse about to get stomped?" Dimitri responded, moving a few feet closer.
"Mouse? Mouse?!" Matthias roared (although it came out more as a really threatening squeak). "My name is Matthias! My mother was a witch from the great Dragontail Mountains. She conjured daedra."
That word slowed the boys for a moment, until Dimitri spoke back. "So your mom's a witch? I'll remember that next time I pay her a visit!"
Dimitri feinted forward, his arms held wide and low as though to grab Matthias and tackle him to the ground. Matthias backed up a few steps in fear, and the boys all laughed. His face blushing, visible even through the patterns on his flesh, he held his hands up in front of him.
"So be it," he pronounced with all the finality and grimness he could muster. "Ayem, bedt, cess," he started, each syllable given careful enunciation.
"Whoa, hang on, what's he doing, Di? That sounds like a spell to me!" one of the boys whispered, backing away smoothly but quickly.
"Hefhed, geth," Matthias went on, moving his hands closer together before slamming them far apart. One of the attackers took off running, leaving Dimitri and Nate behind. Nate looked at Dimitri, questioningly, but stayed put.
"Hekem, IYA!" Matthias pressed on, throwing his hands up in the air. A sudden gust of wind into the alley sent the powdery mix of ash and flour into the air, choking everybody but Matthias, who ignored it, and Kirstiel, who masked her face with her shirt, fear still dominant on her face. The gust of wind was the final straw for Nate, once he stopped coughing. Dimitri looked back in time to see his former companion's feet disappear around the corner, and...
Two hulking figures rose from the piles of ash in one of the doorways. They both stood a full foot taller than Dimitri, who couldn't make any details except that they appeared to be made of the ash itself.
"Tell you what, 'Di"," Matthias spoke calmly as the figures closed in. "Give me all your coin, and I'll let you off easy. One-time offer."
Dimitri's eyes dashed back and forth; the short kid standing in front of the wood elf, triumph pasted on his face, on one side, and the hulking ash figures on the other, moving down both sides of the alley towards him. The decision he reached was at the look on the little Bosmer girl's face: she was utterly and completely terrified.
A few seconds later, all that remained of Dimitri in the alleyway was a small puff of ash, and a trail of footprints leading back out into the street.
Matthias relaxed his tense posture, and looked back at Kirstiel, smiling. His smile quickly turned to puzzlement at the fear in her eyes, before he turned back to look at the soot-men standing in place. A breath later, the alley was filled with laughter.
The figures covered in ash did their best to scrape some of the excess away, revealing perfectly normal faces. A few good shakes, some patting, stomping, and just a little jumping later, two identical Nord twins stood in their place. Their booming laughs shook Kirstiel from her terror.
"It's just the twins, Kirsty!" Matthias chuckled, wiping his hands along his arms, smudging the soot he'd used to doodle the meaningless lines.
Kirstiel's look quickly changed to one of indignation. "You could have told me! Come on guys, you were supposed to protect me from them, not scare me, too."
The Nords laughed even harder.
"Did you see the look on her face, Benno?" one asked of his brother.
"Ha! Almost as good as that little punk's was, Dirk," the other answered.
With a grin, Matthias turned to Kirstiel. "Sorry, little sister. It was my idea to scare them. If I'd known ahead of time how we were going to do it, I would've told you."
Kirstiel contemplated the three of them for a moment, before finally smiling. "It's okay. Just warn me next time, somehow. Say, it's a good thing none of those guys knew their letters, isn't it?"
Their laughter followed them as they left the alley.
"We need to find a way to wash all of this off of us before we bring you two back, or Miss Evesa will have all of our hides," one of the twins teased.
"Yeah, right. What's she going to do to a couple of Wayrest's newest guards?" Matthias joked back.
The twins shared a knowing glance before one of them answered. "Trust us. It wouldn't save us from her if she got angry. The authority of the headmistress of Horley Orphanage is worth a captain of the guards, at least," he laughed. "Now come on, you two. Let's get you down to the river, grab your fish, and get back before supper time."
On their way back to the river, Kirstiel convinced Matthias to play a round of "Which Parent Would You Want?".
"How about that man, there?" Matthias asked her, pointing at a fat old Breton buying a bolt of cloth.
"Ew, no way. Buying cloth down by the docks? That means he's probably a merchant."
"Yeah, but at least he'd have a lot of money," one of the twins pointed out.
"But he'd never be home. Who would teach me how to use a bow, or carve a fish?"
Matthias and the twins laughed. "That's our Kirsty," one of the older boys said.
"What about you, Matthias? Same guy."
Matthias also declined, although Kirstiel could see the sadness in his eyes. He'd just turned ten, which meant his chance of adoption was incredibly low. Kirstiel, at six, still had a chance, but few families wanted to adopt somebody who was so close to being able to leave and find an apprenticeship on his own somewhere. That's what had happened to Dirk and Benno. Once they were twelve, at Evesa's urging, they had both taken up work at a nearby blacksmith. They'd both recently been inducted into the city guard, although at sixteen they were among the youngest members. They still stopped by the orphanage from time to time, like today, where Matthias had conscripted them to help her out.
Matthias knew who had beaten her up the last time she'd visited the docks by reputation. Evesa liked to encourage each child's independence after a certain age, on the condition that if they did something that landed them behind bars, they had best plan on staying there, but was about to remove Kirstiel's wandering privileges until she was a little older. He'd spoken up for her; visiting somewhere so far away from the orphanage was always with its risks, and none of the orphans ever traveled truly alone. He promised to stay even closer nearby, in case she needed help, and the deal was sealed when Dirk and Benno had both agreed to be around, too.
They were finally in eyesight of the docks when the air pressure changed suddenly, making everybody's hair stand on end. There was an unfamiliar whoosh sound, and a fireball fell from the sky onto the boat nearest them. The wave of heat reached them, even from so far away, and Kirstiel had to fight to keep her feet.
"What in the name of the Divines was THAT?" Dirk shouted.
In reply to his question, more fireballs flew through the sky, peppering ships all along the docks as half a dozen ships all came into view from just down the river.
"Corsairs?" Benno asked aloud.
"By Akatosh! Benno, you take the kids back to Miss Evesa, now. I'll figure out what in Oblivion's going on, and meet you all there if I can. If I'm not back half an hour after you, Benno, head to the barracks. If this is a pirate attack, it's bigger than anything I've ever heard of happening before."
Benno and his brother clasped wrists before separating.
"See you soon, brother."
"Come on, kids, let's go! Kirstiel, stay ahead of me, but where I can see you. Run."
Matthias, Kirstiel, and Benno took off for the orphanage as the ships drew closer, unaware of what their future held.
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Wayrest was lost to the brigands before the week was out. The Jewel of the Bay would never be the same.
Hordes of civilians, escorted by the city guard, fled on foot through the countryside. In one of the caravans was an aging Dunmer matron and a half dozen of her orphans. Always standing guard near them was Benno, the only Nord twin who managed to escape the burning city.
