You sure? Fine. I'll stand watch.
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The Saga of Scales: Table of Contents
Previous Entry: Scorned
14th of Midyear
Scales woke me forcefully this morning. Out of instinct….or perhaps not...I lashed out and kicked him as hard as I could, narrowly missing his face. Blasted lizard is like kicking a tree though and he barely moved. Ignoring the assault (damn I wish he had thrown a punch back) he shook me again, telling me to rise and arm myself quickly. Real instincts kicking in I speedily armed to the potential threat of real danger and when ready we left the nordic barrow where the cannibals and their tramp were holded up. I asked several times about the purpose along a hasty returned to Markarth but as usual Scales said nothing. It was still dark when we left and we made it to Markarth just as the morning rays of the sun were cresting over the city walls. Inside the gate Scales stopped, looking around for a few minutes before seeming figuring out where he wanted to go and charged up towards the very tallest section of the city. Up several flights of stairs we bounded, to the very highest residential area of the city where only the wealthiest and greediest of snowbacks lived. Scales studied one door for a moment and nodded approvingly before looking back to me. He told me to stay here, stand guard, and whatever I heard do not enter the door until he returns. He made me promise three times to do as he said before he shoved a crumpled up piece of paper into my head and leaving me alone outside, with nothing but the rising sun and the ball of paper for company.
That was likely one of the strangest conversations I have ever had with Scales, both in its unusually long duration, but also for the repeated promise. Thinking back now I am not sure I can recall a single time when Scales ever made me promise anything let alone repeat my oath over and over. Despite the fact that I still really want to kick him directly in the face...perhaps more than just one...I understand that something very important is going on. The paper that he shoved into my hand was a letter, short but simple. Addressed to someone named Inigo it directed this individual that the “Brute” had escaped and tasked him to hunt down, capture and return “my lost property to me” in Markarth. Simply signed “N”. Scales as always been tight lipped about...well everything...but I know before he came to Mor Khazgur he came from the swamps of Morthal to the east. Said he was attacked there and it was no longer safe. I had asked him if he came to the reach to find the person who attacked him to which he had shaken his head no with a hint of sadness but as usual said no more. Given what I can surmise about this letter, the commotion I have heard from the house in front of which I not sit and write this, and the telltale scars I have seen on Scales’ hide; I can only assume that Scales was at one point a slave and through unknown means he escaped from his former master, has dealt with people trying to return him to captivity, and now seeks some measure of revenge as my quill scratches these letters. Despite everything that has happened lately I pray to Malacath he finds his vengeance.
Next Entry: A long time coming...
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