Lydia greedily breathed the scent in the scent of the sea as cold saltwater sprayed across the ship’s bow.
“Ah, Skyrim! How I’ve missed you.”
“Kharjo believes the Nord speaks only for herself.” The water had splashed over the Khajiit as well, but instead of proudly facing the breaking waves, he was firmly planted to the deck with ears plastered against wet fur.
“Lydia speaks for all! Khajiit would like to join this one at the bow, no?” Lydia whipped her head about to face the Khajiit and grinned when he flinched at the freezing droplets from her hair striking him.
Kharjo couldn’t help but grin back though, “You mock like a true Khajiit. Though swimming in armor of such weight is most difficult; this one will stay here.”
“Now that we’re back in the realms of man, are you going to start saying “I” again?”
“I don’t know. Hmm, this one does not know,” he grinned, “both it seems. The warm sands will always be with Kharjo, but the white peaks are with me as well now.”
“You’re a surprisingly deep kitty cat Kharjo. Speaking of cats, is Vitus still sleeping like one?”
Kharjo hissed at her and feigned a claw swipe. “Most assuredly; I shall go wake him.”
Lydia turned back to the sea. “Have fun; we’ll be docking soon.”
***
Khjaro slid down the ship ladders, rebounding off the hallways, and then burst into Vitus’s cabin.
“ALERT! WAKE UP!”
Vitus bolted upright out of a deep slumber with a sword already in his hand and still in his underwear.
“All hands on deck! Man the catapults! Archers, by the Divines, cover the damn cavalry already! If we’re going down, you better be dragging that whorish mother of a ship with you!”
Kharjo couldn’t stop laughing, but managed to speak between gasping breaths, “About to… dock… this ship is. What type of ship… has catapults and cavalry?”
“Damn it Kharjo! We’re not under attack?” Vitus sighed and started walking towards the exit. “I was dreaming; my dream ships can have whatever I want on them. Well, I’m awake now; let’s go.”
***
Lydia was already on the dock helping the sailors – a rag tagged mix of man and beast races under a Redguard captain – guide the ship into its slip. She wiped her brow and looked up to see Vitus emerge from below deck still clad in only his underwear. Kharjo was following behind him with his paws over his mouth trying to contain his laughter.
“What in Oblivion Vitus! Put on some clothes!” Lydia shouted.
He looked down in surprise, then glared at Kharjo. “You could have said something!”
“Could have,” Kharjo agreed, nodding his head sagely.
Vitus growled and pushed him out of the way and went back under. Kharjo snickered, then vaulted the rail and landed next to Lydia on the docks as the customs agent approached.
Lydia met him and they grasped forearms, “Well met. It’s still odd seeing an Imperial uniform in Windhelm.”
“Heh, yeah I still find myself checking the parapets for Stormcloaks from time to time. Importing any produce, livestock, Daedric paraphernalia, or goods totally over 50,000 septims?”
“No; only passengers.”
“All good; although the Khajiit won’t be allowed in the city. He can take the path off the docks and meet you outside the main entrance.”
Kharjo shouldered forward, “This one thinks your customs are primitive, like a troll feces painting.”
The customs agent narrowed his eyes at the Khajiit. “According to protocol 1613 Section–“
“- and this one has diplomatic immunity signed and sealed by General Tulius himself,” Kharjo interrupted.
The agent was mulling that over when Vitus hopped onto the dock, fully dressed this time in unadorned officer’s regalia. The agent looked between the three and gears started grinding in his mind.
“Retired officer, Nord, Khajiit with immunity… You’re thee Legate Vitus! The one who sacked this city and ended Ulfric with his own sword! My apologies, you all have free access to the city. It’s an honor; it truly is!” The agent exploded and rushed over to Vitus, profusely shaking his hand.
A crowd started gathering around them and Vitus groaned, “This is why I left…”
“Looks like you have the rest of customs under control, so we’ll meet you at the Candlehearth!” Lydia excused herself and dragged Kharjo after her.
***
As they passed through the city, Kharjo waved and offered greetings that blatantly disregarded Nordic culture to everyone with an open smile. Imperials may have sacked the city, but it was still mostly Nords that populated it and traditions are not easily forgotten.
“May you walk on warm sands”; “Moons guide you”; “This one welcomes you.”
He was met with either disgust, confusion, or just plain, blank stares as the Nords minds’ refused to even register that a Khajiit was among them.
Lydia hissed in his ear, “Are you trying to start trouble!?”
“I only wish them a good day,” he responded innocently with wide eyes.
Somehow they made it to the inn without incident. Kharjo hopped in front of Lydia before she could open the heavy oak door, flicking his tail excitedly.
“Let me open it! This one has never opened such a door.”
“It’s a door,” Lydia responded dryly.
“But this one leads to the secret lives of Nord’s within their motherland; a sight few Khajiit have born witness too.”
Lydia rolled her eyes, then Kharjo burst through the door with the outburst: “Greetings snow-brothers!”
“Oh brother…” Lydia muttered under breath and then started stretching out the kinks from her muscles.
Everyone stopped mid drink and stared silently at the cat-beast disrupting their inn.
The Khajiit leaned over to Lydia and whispered loudly, “Kharjo did not expect Nords to be as monks behind closed doors.”
“I’m a Nord you dolt!”
“I know; that is why this one is surprised.” He leered at her.
A Nord sitting at the bar spoke up before she could punch him, “You’re no Nord, traitorous cunt!”
Kharjo stopped Lydia before she raged on the man, “Easy there; we are all friends here, no?”
The Khajiit took the stool out from under someone who had spit at him then wedged it in between the Nord that insulted Lydia and another disgruntled customer. He clapped them both on the shoulders and perked his ears.
“Ah much better; friends should be close, yes?” The Nords stared at him, still frozen in disbelief.
Kharjo saw that the rude Nord was eating a juicy lamb leg and licked his whiskers, “Friends also share, yes?”
Not waiting for a response he took the lamb leg and started daintily taking tiny bites around it with his pinky raised. Then he saw the disgruntled custom move to take a swig of mead and took that bottle as well. A trickle of mead was trailing down Kharjo’s mouth when all hell broke loose as if a spell paralyzing all the Nords had suddenly shattered.
“We are not friends! We will never accept an Imperial ruler! And you will make a fine rug to wipe my ass on!” The disgruntled Nord exploded then cocked an arm to slug the Khajiit, but Kharjo was faster. He dug his claws into both sides of the man’s head then slammed him face down onto the bar. Lydia let out a war cry and slugged the rude Nord that insulted her with her full bodyweight and a steel gauntlet, knocking him out cold. Then Kharjo was tackled to the ground by the one whose stool he stole and the fight degraded into a ball of fur and fists. Soon the whole bar was in uproar and brawling. The pour innkeeper was yelling for everyone to take it outside and she was hitting anyone who came near the bar with a sheathed greatsword.
***
Vitus breezed in and casually ducked a hurled chair that shattered behind him. He checked to make sure the door fully closed; don’t want let any frost in was his thinking.
“Pardon me. Coming through; excuse me,” He politely spoke as he weaved between the fists, broken bottles, and even whole people flying through the air to the bar.
He made it through unscratched and balanced at the bar on a two legged stool, “Elda Early-Dawn, yes? Do you still serve-“ he slightly angled his body to dodge the inn keeper’s greatsword- “Honey-Brewery Mead here?”
Elda withdrew the sword and cursed when she saw the large nick it left in her counter. “Oh, it’s you. Your crew has some nerve showing up here. Twenty-five septims.”
“Here’s some extra for my friends,” Vitus said tossing her a coin bag stuffed with gems while kicking another drunk away from him. Her eyes widened at the amount and quickly tucked it away.
He popped open the mead, savoring the sweet flavor, when Lydia kicked another Nord and sent him flying into Vitus.
“Damn it Lydia! You spilled my drink!” Then to himself, “Guess it’s time I joined the fun.”
He flipped over a two-person table, broke the legs off, and armed himself with a wood sword and a tabletop shield. He banged the table leg to his shield and called out to his comrades, “To me! Wedge formation! Let’s give them one for!”
Kharjo and Lydia fell back to him by reflex and they took up their own shields and table legs.
“Are you serious!?” Lydia questioned him, “It’s skeeving bar brawl Vitus!”
“The bar brawl of the century! To Victory or Oblivion you mangy curs! CHARGE!!!”
***
Some time and much noise later the three comrades emerged from the Candlehearth Inn in a billow of dust, covered in sweat, blood, and mead. Something fell in a clamor inside and the whole roof sagged.
Vitus and Kharjo leapt off the steps and chest bumped midair. Lydia followed soon after shaking her head, but with a huge grin across her face. That was until they noticed an escort of Praetorian Guards surrounding the inn with a disapproving General Tulius at the head, staring them down.
“So this is how my most honored Legate whom I’ve road beside in many a battle spends his retirement?”
Vitus sheepishly stepped forward. “Well to be honest General, we didn’t think you would be here.”
Comments
Like that
Glad you still enjoyed it. Lydia is no longer 'sworn to carry your burdens'
You may want to go back & edit though: I noticed quite a few typos.
Thanks!
I quite like him.
Also, this has to be one of the most epic bar fights that I've ever read. Glorious read!