Walk with the Shadows Ch 1

  • Walk with the Shadows

    Chapter One: The Crossing



       The date is the 6th of Morning Star, 4E 202. Alduin, the World Eater, has been defeated, but the civil war in Skyrim persists. Through the Jerall Mountains, going from Cyrodiil to Skyrm, an Imperial caravan cautiously traverses the frozen pass. The Legion soldiers guarding the wagons have a hard time keeping their eyes open through the howling wind and falling snow on this bitterly cold night. Ordinarily, they would set up a camp or find a cave to wait for the storm to pass, but the supplies they are moving have already been delayed for over three weeks and their comrades are in desperate need of a restock. So the men and women cling tightly to their cloaks and hoods as they march on.

     

       Quickly and silently, a hooded figure hurries along the road behind the Caravan. The guards are too busy trying to keep their footing on the frozen ground to even consider looking behind themselves. The figure unties the straps holding the leather canopy securely to the tailgate of the rear wagon, jumps into the back, and then reties the straps with uncanny speed. Protected from the harsh winds, the figure pulls off the hood to reveal the youthful and very cold face of an Imperial woman. With jet black hair and fair features, it is no mere boast for her to consider herself a true beauty of Cyrodiil. She cups her hands and a small flame rises from her palms. The heat from the tiny flame is not much but she dare not risk more lest she give herself away. She huddles herself up and begins rocking back and forth in hopes of warming herself, quickly. Even inside the wagon, the freezing cold is brutal.

     

       It takes several minutes, but her teeth stop chattering and she breathes easier. While holding the fire steady in her right hand, she uses the flame to examine her surroundings. Rummaging through the crates with her left hand, she finds frozen but fresh apples, bread, a few bottles of Alto wine and a chest. She has to douse the flame briefly to pick the lock. When she relights the flame she finds a month’s worth of payroll gleaming back at her. “Jack-pot!” she thinks to herself. After stuffing as much of the gold into her pockets as she can carry, she uses the small flame to carefully thaw some frozen provisions and enjoys a much needed respite as the caravan carries her into a southern hold of Skyrim called The Rift. Hearing the clanking of steel Legion armor, she almost feels sorry for the guards drudging through the snowy pass outside… Almost...

     

       After several hours, the woman is woken up by the wagon coming to a sudden and jarring stop. She rubs her eyes and whispers, “Damn it. Let myself go to sleep…” She hears one of the Legion soldiers outside call out, “HERE THEY COME!!! Brace yourselves!” She pulls her iron dagger from her waist and cuts a small hole in the left side of the tarp covering the wagon where she heard the shout coming from. Peeping through the small hole she sees a trio of brown trolls rushing towards the caravan. The soldiers stand to meet the hulking three eyed brutes, but the soldiers are weary from battling the mountain all night. The woman sighs, “Huh… this should go well… Think it’s time to take my leave.”

     

       She watches the fight for a moment before she slowly sticks her head out of the back of the wagon and looks over the top at the rest of the caravan. The soldiers have abandoned the wagons to fend off the trolls. She pulls her hood up and scurries around the right side of the wagons and makes a quick search of the contents. She finds weapons, armor, food, and poultices. Her pockets already filled with gold, she empties one of the backpacks of poultices and fills it with the gold, some of the poultices, and food until the pack is full. She swaps her long bow for a crossbow, three quivers of steel bolts, and a pair of standard issue steel daggers. She makes a quiet exit and ducks behind a pair of large gray boulders on the side of the road and waits for the fight to end.

     

       Free of the frigid temperatures of the mountains, she looks around and sees no sign of snow. “How long did I sleep?” she thinks to herself. The land is lush with healthy trees and tall grass. Though she would not call it warm, the temperature is moderate. Her attention is drawn by a troll’s roar and a man screaming, “AHHHH MY ARM!!! KILL IT!! KILL IT!!!” She considers joining the fight for a moment… a very brief moment then ducks back down behind the granite rocks and finishes the rest of her Alto wine waiting for the last of the trolls, or the last of the soldiers, to fall.

     

       The sound of a death howl signals the defeat of the final troll. Now exhausted and with several wounded, the soldiers limp and shuffle back to the wagons. Be it a result of diligent training or sheer luck, none of the soldiers died during the assault. The wounded are tended to and loaded into the wagons. Those that can still walk carry on alongside the caravan as they proceed to the Imperial camp hidden in EastMarch’s Tundra to the North. The woman peeks around to see them moving on then sits down and begins counting the Septims and supplies in the backpack to see just how much she was able to swipe. She smiles, ‘Well now… Just over six hundred gold. Not a bad take.” She counts out a hundred coins and puts them in one of her pockets, leaving the rest in the bottom of the pack. She steps out and stretches before walking to a crossroad ahead while keeping a healthy distance from the Legion soldiers. Looking at the sign post at the intersection, she finds the name she was hoping for. “Riften” and an arrow pointing the way. She throws the crossbow over her shoulder and adjusts the daggers and bolts on her belt. “Right then…” She says as she begins a hike down the cobblestone road.

     

       A few hours later, she arrives at the city of Riften. The capital of The Rift and seat of the new ruling Jarl, Maven Blackbriar. She was awarded the title of Jarl in a temporary truce negotiated in the ongoing Civil War between the Stormcloaks of Skyrim and the Imperial Legion. Scouting the parameter of the city, she finds guards posted at every gate. “These morons probably don’t know who I am, but best not to chance it… There’s got to be another way in…” She avoids the main gate and creeps around the back of the city until she comes to Lake Honrich. There is a dock leading from the city walls, a fishing trawler, a warehouse, and two buildings with purposes that are not obvious to her. There is also a door leading into the city, but it too is watched by a single guard. She could kill him easily, but that would raise unwanted attention. So she waits and  eyes the dockworkers for over an hour before she notices a great number of them are moving in and out of a building between the docks and city walls. There’s no guard standing watch over this door. She ponders for a moment, “That’s the ticket… No way all of them fit in that one building… It must lead into the city.” She sits under a tree, pulls out a bundle of old parchments, and waits for nightfall.

     

       14th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 173

     

       Barely got out of the chancellor's house before the old man came home. Five minutes sooner and he would have found every drawer, chest, and jewelry box open. I had to hide in the basement for hours waiting for a chance to sneak out. My beloved Rena would never forgive me for getting caught. Dagon’s balls, she’d kill me before the guards got anywhere near me. She still thinks I gave up the guild when little Lucina was born. Hate lying to her, but food doesn’t just appear on the table. The tax hikes on the Waterfront didn’t help matters….

     

    (several passages are too faded to read)

     

    ...not what it used to be. The guild used to be something you could count on, but the damned College of Whispers is helping the guards track thieves now. Fences and safe houses are becoming harder and harder to……… doing what I have to, but I can’t outrun them forever……… just had a big enough haul, I could move us to Leyawiin or Bruma. Get us out of the Waterfront at least. I can’t allow Lucina to grow up in squalor if it can be avoided. She could……..

     

    (the rest of the parchment is too faded to make out)

     

       With night falling, the woman watches as the guards are relieved from their shift by the night’s watch. Once they settle into posts and patrols, she tracks their movements and learns their patterns. Slowly she swims to the docks and sticks to the shadows as she slips around the guards. Reaching the unguarded door, she picks the lock with ease and her eyes water when she opens the door as the fumes of a brewery assail her nostrils. She pinches her nose shut and rubs her eyes, “Dibella’s tits, what are they cooking up in here? Gah…”  Reluctantly she enters the brewery and locks the door behind her.

     

       She makes her way through the maze of halls and ladders of the brewery and dodges a few workers until she comes to a dead end. “Balls!” She says, “How do you get out of this cesspool?” As she turns, a small lock box catches her eye. She turns back and smiles, “Well… hello there…” The lock is a bit more stubborn than the one of the back door, but to a practiced hand, it opens to her all the same. She finds a pair of ruby’s and a diamond inside. After pocketing the contents, she continues her trek through the brewery until she finally locates the exit. She steps out and finds herself inside Riften’s walls and takes a deep breath which triggers a coughing fit, “*cough*… smells just like… ugh… like the old Waterfront… Fish and ass… Just hope the Inn doesn’t smell this bad.” She wanders the streets for an hour looking at the various buildings. A smithy, the Brewery, a general store, the Jarls keep, a temple of Mara, and a sprawl of well-to-do houses. A man made waterway runs through the heart of the city. Another level of the city exists below the one she is on. She leans on a railing and watches people passing through. She shakes her head, “So.. That’s where the poor people live… and they got the rich asshats living on top of them… Tells ya all ya need to know about this bucket of piss.”

     

       As she makes her way to the Bee and Barb Tavern and Inn, she spots a shadowy figure creeping through the market stalls in the center of town.  She looks around and sees several guards patrolling the area and thinks, “Rookie… you’ll be in a cell by morning.” Just as the thought leaves her, the clouds break enough for the light of the moons to illuminate the city. She hears the sound of a blade being drawn followed by “STOP! THIEF!” and several guards rush in. The thief is only able to dodge blades and arrows briefly before he is caught in the leg by an arrow and a steel Battle Axe lands in his spine. The woman watches as the guards -confiscate- the stolen items from the thief’s body then chunk him into the waterway. They return to their posts as if nothing had happened. “Well shit…” she says, “These guards don’t fool around.” She shrugs then continues on into the inn.

     

       The smell of the Inn is not quite as bad as the Brewery, but it’s a vast improvement over the streets. She pulls up a stool at the bar. The barkeep says, “If you’ve got the coin, you’re welcome here. If not… Hit the road!” The woman grins, “How much for a room and some dinner?” After some negotiations, she drops several gold coins on the bar paying for a room, an Ale, and some clam chowder. She looks around the room and eyes a few well dressed Nords ordering expensive drinks and lavish meals. She smirks and thinks, “Well… there’s the gold in this town… On display for all to see. How kind of them.” She stops smirking when she spots a man, out of the corner of her eye, in the back of the bar watching her. He’s well dressed, but not like the others. From his posture and expression, she can tell he’s not a lout looking for a tumble. She knows when another thief is studying her. The only question is... why. Is this friendly competition or is the new girl being lined up for a frame job? She hasn’t been in town a day and she’s already being watched.

     

       She finishes her dinner then follows the Barkeep upstairs to her room. She waits for the barkeep to return down the stairs before slipping out and gives the other rooms a quick once over. She snags a few Septims, a gold ring, and an outfit to wear in the morning. Returning to her room, she finds the man from the bar sitting in a chair waiting for her. He smiles at her, “Never done an honest day's work in your life for all the coin you’re carrying, eh lass?” The woman looks him over. No blade, no back up, but she’s the one holding stolen goods from other rooms. One word from him and everyone in the tavern will come running. She saw what happened to the thief in the market, so she tries to play it cool. “I’m not sure what you mean.” With a slight chuckle to himself, he looks into her blue eyes, “I’m saying you’ve got the coin, but you didn’t earn a Septim of it honestly.” The woman walks in and drops the stolen items on the bed, “My wealth is none of your business.” The man leans back in the chair, “Oh that’s where you’re wrong, lass. Wealth IS my business… Perhaps you’d like a taste?” She tilts her head to the side contemplating the offer, “Depends… What did you have in mind?”

     

       The man stands and says, “I have a bit of an errand to perform and I could use an extra set of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid.”  The woman turns to face him, “What exactly would I have to do?” He smiles, “Simple. In the morning, I’m going to cause a distraction while you goto Madesi’s stand in the marketplace to break into his strong box and steal his silver ring. Then I want you to put it into Brand-Shei’s pocket.” Indeed a simple task, but stealing something only to give it away? Clearly he is framing this Brand-Shei for the theft. She asks, “You speak as if I know who these people are... Why plant the ring on… Brand-Shei?” The man looks her over a moment, “I trust a woman like you can figure out who her targets are. As to why, there’s someone who wants him put out of business, permanently. That’s all you need to know. I’ll be in the marketplace from 8 in the morning till 8 in the evening. Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll start the distraction.”  Without another word, the man leaves the room.

     

       Once he walks down the stairs, she locks and bars the door with a chair before allowing herself to relax. She gently pulls up a floor board, stuffing in her gear and backpack, then pulls out the old parchments from the pack and lays them on the nightstand before replacing the floor board. She frowns as she tries on the outfit she stole. She groans in disappointment as she finds it to be loose in some unflattering places. Taking a dagger to cut three inches from the bottom of the dress, she grumbles to herself, “Damn Nords. Just my luck. I would rob a giantess. I won’t blend in like this… Hope they have a proper tailor in this skeever hole.” She cuts the excess material into strips and uses them to try and tie off some of the slack in the dress. Not fashionable, but it at least looks like it fits. She takes off the dress and tosses it on the foot of the bed before laying down. She looks at the ceiling and says, “Pretty sure that guy is part of the thieves guild around here… that or he’s going to get us both killed…. Well, it’s the only lead I have right now… Alright, Lucina Varro. You got yourself into this… So what ya gonna do now, smart ass?” She listens to the patrons below for a few moments then picks up the old parchments from the night stand. She flips through the pages, looking for whatever information she can about Guilds outside of Cyrodiil until she falls asleep.

     

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