I stayed in the inn after my conversation with Alvor, but I returned to Gerdur's house for my break-fast. I was mulling over the things Alvor had told me, and didn't want to talk to anyone.
Ralof became angry with my silence. When he would not leave me alone I asked him, in my broken speech, why he was still here when his Jarl surely had need of him. Only Gerdur's intervention prevented it coming to blows.
I moved into the inn after that. I still came around for language lessons and the occasional meal, but I knew I had outgrown my welcome. Just as well: it gave me more time to plan.
Alvor had given me a lot to think about. He had told me that the bandits I had killed were part of a larger group. They had the shore road south of the large lake closed off, as well. For months they had been occasionally charging a toll and occasionally outright attacking travelers on both routes between Falkreath and Riverwood. Neither Jarl Siddgeir nor the Imperial troops had tried to stop them.Â
The garrison at Helgen was more concerned with stopping Nords who deserted the Legion from entering Skyrim from Cyrodiil - finally I knew why I was nearly executed, I bore a great resemblance to the people of this land. Siddgeir, on the other hand, was rumored to be in league with a variety of bandit groups in his Hold. Riverwood's Jarl, Jarl Balgruuf, couldn't do anything, since the bandits operated entirely in Jarl Sidgeir's lands.
Alvor was especially concerned because the bandits had taken over an iron mine for use as their headquarters, and were especially targeting caravans carrying iron ore and ingots. Alvor had been forced into business with them to fulfill his contracts to the Legion. I was disappointed to learn that Alvor supplied the people who had tried to kill me, but I understood that for a smith, trade is trade.
I was more disappointed to learn that many of the weapons I'd been helping make at the forge were being traded to the bandits for iron.
It took a long time for the smith to explain all of this to me. Not only was it complicated, my understanding of the language was poor at best, but he was patient and in no hurry himself to confess his shame.
Then he asked me if I would kill the bandits.
I told him I'd need better equipment, if I was going to take on a whole company of bandits. I told him my studded armor left my arms too exposed, and I would feel better with a light chain hauberk beneath the leather. I told him I also needed a sword of a design more familiar to me, and a shield heavier than the hide one I had and lighter than the heavy iron and steel monstrosities that seemed to be popular in this land.
He said he'd help me make them.
I told him he'd bought himself some dead bandits.
The next day I went to scout out our foes' shore road outpost.
I counted three well-armed bandits, with no cover to approach from the road. I scouted the terrain all around their camp and returned to Riverwood. I spent the next several days working from dawn until dusk with Alvor to better equip myself. While I worked, I thought of how to arrange my attack.
Charging from the road was too risky. Even with the element of surprise I would be outnumbered three to one, with the enemy in possession of the high ground.
Attacking with my bow from the high ground east of the camp seemed like the best option, but it had its limitations. The camp offered good cover, especially on the approaches to the position I would have to take. I'd probably only be able to drop one of my foe before the others took cover and began working to outflank me.
Still, two against one seemed better than three. I'd have to put my trust in the new gear we were making and my vikingr skill.
The day came when my new gear was just about finished. That evening I scouted the outpost again. No change, still a three-man watch. On the way back I came across some wolves mutilating a dead body. I got three nice wolf pelts out of the meeting.
The next day Alvor finished linking the last few chains on my once-again-improved armor, while I put the edge on my new sword and painted the carved designs on my new shield. When we were finished, he told me to wait in his workshop for a moment and he went into his house. When he came out he had two bundles wrapped in hides, one under each of his burly arms.
He told me that the armor we'd been working on was good work, very good, and that the sword design I had taught him may not be as good as Eorlund Grey-Mane's work - whoever that was - but it was certainly the best he had ever made. The problem, he told me, was that the fur boots and gauntlets I had been using since Helgen just weren't suitable for the fine quality of my other gear, and the other pair of steel boots I had were too shiny and noisy for the type of fighting I seemed to be planning on.
I couldn't disagree with any of that, but there just hadn't been time to make everything. I started to say so, but he just held up a hand to silence me and began unwrapping his packages. He first presented me with some chain gauntlets, and said they were an example of the finest light armor-smithing from down south, in Cyrodiil. I had to agree, they were fine work.
Then he gave me a pair of heavy boots, leather and steel. The steel had been intentionally dulled, so as not to reflect glare, and was covered in carvings of the local design.
I didn't have the words to thank him. Even in my own tongue I was too honored for speech. He just nodded at me once, and then motioned to put them on. Alvor helped me into my gear and late in the afternoon I set out to begin my little war.
I had several hours to reach the bandit camp. I wanted to hit them in the night, when they would be unsuspecting. It's the vikingr way. Some might call it dishonorable, but we call it practical. Sneak up on the foe, hit him when he's looking the other way, or not looking at all. Intimidate.
That's why I was attacking the outpost before the mine. I wanted their leader to be intimidated. I wanted him to know that someone was taking his band apart in pieces and that he would be next. I wanted him to be afraid before I came for him.
Maybe you were thinking, milk-drinker, that I am a hero, one of the good guys. Maybe I am, now, here, in my own way, but never forget that before I came to your world, I earned my place in mine by killing people and taking their stuff. That's the only way I know how to fight and I've always been very good at it.
The late afteroon sun came out from behind the clouds as I walked, it was going to be a beautiful evening. Too beautiful for what I was about to do.
I came across the first bandit near the standing stones that had been such a disappointment to me a couple weeks earlier. The idiot ran up to me and tried to give me something he had obviously just stolen. He picked the wrong helper.
The victim found me on the road a few minutes later and asked where the thief was. I tossed him his helmet, pointed over my shoulder, and kept walking.
I came to the spot where I had chosen to leave the road and settled into some nearby bushes to wait for dark. Two hours after the sun went down I stretched and began quietly climbing up onto the ledge overlooking the enemy camp. I caught sight of the fire and tents... and that's when things started to go wrong.
The foe wasn't a-bed and one of them happened to look right at me as I drew my bow. He shouted a warning before I could loose my arrow. He dove for his own bow and my arrow that had been aimed at his heart just grazed his shoulder instead.
Like I had feared, his compatriots rushed to cover and I had no way to fire upon them as they worked their way around behind me. The man I had wounded sent an arrow my way, but his aim suffered from his wound. I put another arrow into his chest, but he managed to fire at me again... still missing. I heard a twig snap behind me - I was on rocks, but I had brought brush up with me and laid it down on the most likely approaches for just this reason - and I turned to see a bare chested man with a great two-handed axe and another with sword and shield and heavy iron armor bearing down on me.
I let the arrow I had nocked fly at the armored man - it punctured his curaiss over his left shoulder and stayed there as he howled in rage and pain - and then I turned and leapt off the ledge and down into the camp. I dropped my bow as I jumped and when I felt my boots just touch the ground I pitched forward into a roll. I came to my feet two strides in front of the gravely wounded bowman and my sword first found my hand and then his throat before he could comprehend what had just happened.
I just had time to strap my shield to my arm before I was set upon by the two remaining bandits. The armored one stayed in close, with his shield up pushing me back while the axe-wielder dodged in and out, trying to remove my sword-arm with his huge weapon. They worked well together, and I was pushed back, and back, and back.
The armored one was in obvious pain from my arrow, but I couldn't take advantage without exposing myself to the axeman. As it was, I took a glancing blow to my sword arm, and nearly dropped my sword. The situation was desperate... these were no mere brigands, but obviously men as experienced in war as me. Veterans turned to brigandage... or deserters.
For a brief moment I felt despair wash over me and then I rallied. I wasn't going to die, cornered like a wild beast, if I was going to fall, it was going to be on the attack, with Odin's name on my lips! I sidestepped a powerful swing from the axeman, fixed my armored foe with my most fierce-some glare and opened my throat with a cry of OOODIIIIIIIIIIIN!!!
My foes seemed to stagger, uncertain of the unfamiliar war-cry, unsure how to respond and in that moment I launched myself forward. I pinned my enemy's shield to his body with the force of my own and drove my sword into his face. As his leader fell, the axeman's courage faltered and he broke and ran.
On another day I may have let him go, but today I needed his death. I needed all of their deaths. I chased him down and found him cowering in some brush behind a great tree. When he begged for mercy, I released him from the shame of his cowardice in the most efficient way I could.
I was battered and bruised, but my equipment had protected me from any cuts. My sword arm began to stiffen up almost as soon as the fight was over. Once I stopped moving it I knew it wasn't going to be good for much for a couple days, but that was fine. I needed a couple days for the message I was sending to sink in and for the fear to work.
I set about stripping the bodies. I piled the armor and every other valuable in the camp inside one of the tents. I wanted the bandits to know that I had seen and handled it all, but hadn't taken it. That wasn't why I was here.
I left the bodies where they could be seen from the road, come the dawn. I wanted it as clear as it could be to anyone passing by that I came only to kill these outlaws.
I also carved the valknut into each of their chests to let the gods of this world know that Odin won this fight and to let the bandit leader know that a vikingr was coming for him. He wouldn't know what the symbol meant, of course, but I figured that would only make it more terrifying.
The night's work done, I walked back to Riverwood to enjoy the sunrise.
It was red.
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