My nose told me all I had to know way before my eyes. After a five days journey, I had finally reached the latrine - remember, Mother, how you used to call Windhelm? – Only there are no such things in this city, because the nords here still retain their ancient habit of defecating on buckets they keep in their kitchens. A very heroic independent lot, these nords from Windhelm, always refusing to adopt decadent foreign customs and sticking to their forefather’s traditions. Now talk about shitting where you eat. The city itself is the ugliest pile of ruins you’re ever likely to see in your entire life, and if you’re an elf like me that means a looong time. It also boasts of being the oldest human city in all Tamriel and that, I must reluctantly admit, may very well be the truth, because it surely does seem that way. Everything is broken, everything is tainted, and everything is rooting.
I have been sneaking all the way up here, always avoiding the main roads, and now I would enter the city dressed as a beggar, knowing nobody would ever offer me a coin, for here they only took notice of a dunmer beggar to kick him. At the gates, I saw three nord thugs bullying Mrs. Atheron. I remembered she came to the shop often, and was one of the few people who didn’t betray you. I could notice she also had recognized me immediately, but she kept silent as the thugs insulted and pushed her around. I let them take notice of me, and they stopped right away, having found a tastier easier target. They kicked me for a while, laughing and bragging about the day they would purge scum like me out of Skyrim. I didn’t mind the kicking or the bragging. Those nords were dead meat, only they didn’t know it, but in due time I would take on personally the task of infusing that knowledge on their thick blonde heads. Instructing the ignorant is just another step in the path of virtue.
They soon left me alone, seeing I would not react or complain, and walked away right to Candlehearth Hall, a place of meeting for all good Windhelm’s shitzens. I could tell by their casual behavior they were not really in for the kill. The bullying and beating was just a kind of afternoon fun, something to brag about while getting drunk with their friends. A visit to that tavern was something definitely on my schedule, but right now I could not afford to get into any trouble. I was here to scout and I knew someone who could give me the information I needed. Revyn Sadri was an old acquaintance of mine who had a shop in the Grey Quarters. I knew he kept connections with less reputable people and dealt with goods of dubious origins. I didn’t really trust him, but he was someone you could make a deal with, provided you had something he was interested in.
It happened I had something he was interested in – my skill as a thief. He had acquired from one of his shadier and dumber connections a piece of jewelry too hot to sell or to keep. Nothing less than a ring belonging to Viola Giordanus, one of Windhelm’s most powerful and annoying shitzens, and he needed someone to plant that ring back in her house, lest his little side business would be uncovered and his head would become an adorn above her fireplace. She was not a very warm and forgiving person and she certainly had the political power to destroy any dunmer who messed with her. Surely I was more used to take away things from a house than to put them back, but that was easily done and I was soon put on top of many little dirty secrets he knew about the shitzens in that cloacae. Though I didn’t care for his little game of blackmail, he knew important things too.
It turns out the Bear is now hiding in his lair, and he won’t get out again, at least not without an army on his side. The watch in the Palace of the Kings has been redoubled and the guards have grown eyes on their backs. So the impossible had become even more impossible. All the skills I had polished and all the weapons I had gathered were just not up to the task. So what… I knew where I cold polish my skills even more and get better weapons. I will not quit and I will not despair again, because I know you are on my side, Mother. But now my time is running out and I have to get out of this shity place as soon as possible. Too many people have seen my face, and while this disguise could fool some nord guards, it would not deceive people who had known me from childhood.
I made a pause on the bridge, and looked back one more time before I leave, but there was not a hint of nostalgia on my eyes. That was the city where I was born, but it was never my city. I grew up playing on these dirty alleys and corners around these people, but they were never my people. This is just my hunting ground and those people are my preys. I have some scores to settle here and my next visit will not be just for sightseeing. But I must be prepared, because there is a far more dangerous beast living inside the Palace of the Kings. Now I understand the meaning of that dragon you send me, mother: it’s all about power, imperial power. I must get that power, since cunning and skill alone will not help me to prevail on this hunting. If I would need an army just to get near his lair, then I knew exactly where I could get one. So, for the time being, the enemy of my enemy would be my… friend?
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