"Sir, please! Help me."
The ground felt much colder than the bench. His knees scraped against the stone, but it was an acceptable trade for a possible warm meal and some coin. Ahead of him, the man stopped, but did not turn around.
"Please."
The noble stared at him, his face utterly devoid of emotion. There wasn't even a trace of disgust. Nothing. Jaree-Ra searched frantically for a story; this expressionless face completely threw him. Should he use his sister as bait once more? Could he develop this into a far grander scam? With a sigh, the man started to move away.
"My sister!" the Argonian cried hoarsely. "Someone took her! Please, help me find her. She's all I have." Head hanging, his thick, black fingernails dug into the stone, gripping in feigned pain and genuine hope. Believe. Believe, damn you.
Arnau gazed at the kneeling beast before him, his composure slowly creaking under the weight of loathing and pity. I have to accept a request from this?
"Who took her?"
It took all of Jaree-Ra's will to contain his elation. I hope you're up to this Deeja. "Oh, Divines bless you, sir! A-a group of corsairs. They took her right off the docks! Please, sir. Please. Help me catch them." Scaled hands pawed Arnau's trousers, tugging like a needy child. Snow spiraled around them.
"What is your name, beggar?"
"Jaree-Ra," said the Argonian. His brow flexed almost imperceptibly in confusion.
Suddenly, Arnau's lips curled into a benevolent, if forced, smile. "Then I will help you find your sister." Kneeling, he pulled the beggar to his feet, who staggered slightly and peered solemnly up into the knight's face. "Now, how are we going to catch these pirates?"
"Thank you! Thank you, sir! I-I think they mean to leave by nightfall. Creep out of the city by cover of darkness."
"Yes, that does sound very much like them," the Breton replied. It also sounded very rehearsed, not to mention the reply came too quickly and readily. Aquillius is toying with me, I know it. He tried very hard not to flinch away from the beggar when those lingering fingers clutched at his arm and pulled his head close to scaly lips. Even then, his stomach did slow somersaults and his tongue felt thick in his mouth.
"We could run their ship aground. We could put out the lighthouse fire."
"And risk the lives of other countless sailors? No."
"It would only be for a few hours. No other ships are scheduled to come in. Please, my sister is out there! Who knows what they could be doing to her!" Arnau did not want to imagine.
It was a scheme, of course. Arnau felt it in his very bones, but he also knew this was the Argonian bothering his lord. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. "Meet me at the docks by sundown. We'll head to the lighthouse then."
* * *
Cold, salty air gusted through Vittoria Vici's clothing, sending goosebumps across her arms. Her fingers felt a little numb, but only because she'd spent the afternoon overseeing the East Empire Company's shipping registration. While it wasn't something she was required to do, nor terribly interesting, the chill of winter and dull work was worth escaping the intense planning of her mother. Every minute Alexia was demanding her opinion of the garland colors, table decorations, size of the snowberry wreath, number of guests to allow into the courtyard, what the bridesmaid was to wear--an endless stream of decisions over things that didn't matter.
Furthermore, though she'd never admit it to her fiancé, Asgeir, or her cousin, Aquillius, she loathed Skyrim and missed the Imperial City every waking moment. At least there, people knew who she really was; not some invasive Imperial noble bent on stealing the province away from the locals. They expected her to suddenly become a jarl. As if I really wanted this land, she thought bitterly. Still, Asgeir loved the cold and snow, so she would stay. For him.
"Brother, you look so excited. Have we found a...helper?"
Vittoria paused in her record keeping to glare at the Argonians gathered on the docks. "Those two are always up to something," she whispered. She considered alerting the guard, but thought better of it. They hadn't done anything. Yet.
"Yes, Deeja. He'll be coming here any minute. Head out to our agreed upon position."
Deeja hissed and jackknifed into the water, swimming away with her tail writing behind her like a serpent. Vittoria frowned, watching the remaining Argonian lean casually against the railing to stare out over the water. Suddenly, he twitched, glanced behind him, and slunk away until a ship concealed his form. Heavy boots came clanking down the steps to her right, and an armored figure emerged into view, stopping in the very spot the Argonian just vacated. What is Sir Arnau doing here? the noble thought.
* * *
Slowly the sun sank behind the mountains to the west. Mist rolled in from the icy sea, blanketing the wharf in a low fog. It wasn't nightfall. Not quite. Arnau saw neither scale nor claw of the Argonian beggar, and he was thinking of heading back into the city when a rattling breath appeared at his side.
"I almost didn't recognize you, sir." Jaree-Ra looked the Breton up and down nervously. Before, when he had been wearing just a tunic and trousers, the beggar thought the noble was just a pushover. Now, in a formidable set of armor coating him in steel as chitin does a chaurus, Jaree-Ra wasn't so sure. He began to doubt whether or not this plan would even work. The man's mismatched eyes bore into his own before the knight donned a helmet that covered his face. The effect of that stare was compounded, and the Argonian quaked in his shoes. He doesn't look human like that. What if he kills me?
"Let's go, if you're ready," came the muffled voice.
"What's the rush? I-I mean. Both of us don't need to go to the lighthouse. One man alone could easily do the job."
"Why don't you go, then? I'll wait for the ship and get a jump on our kidnappers."
"No, no. I cant. One of the men tending the lighthouse stole from me and left me to die in the cold!" Jaree-Ra wrung his hands, his legs tensed, ready to jump into the water and disappear. His pointed teeth worried the inside of his cheek into an ulcerated mess. "Why don't you go," he continued, "I'll climb atop that mast behind us and keep watch for the ship. Please. We don't have time to argue!"
Arnau nodded, the fading light making the eyeholes of his face mask seem bottomless. "All right. We'll meet back here before midnight, then, we'll find your sister."
"Yes. Thank you. Thank you, sir!"
Shifting a little, the Breton wrapped his cloak tighter about him and strode down the docks, over the archway housing the East Empire Company's warehouse, and down the cobblestone road. The Argonian beggar slumped onto the docks in relief. His legs felt like jelly and his heart raced as fast as a sparrow's wings. After a few moments, he gathered his wits and scrambled onto the Red Wave, where a group of surly Nords bearing black, vein-like tattoos sat waiting.
"Wait for the signal," he hissed. The men lowered a longboat into the bay loaded with empty crates and clambered aboard.
It wasn't a long walk to the lighthouse. In fact, the weight of his plate armor ensured he was sweating in spite of the growing chill in the air so he felt quite comfortable. Out this close to the sea, the pines were covered in a salty rime that turned them into glistening, white sculptures. In these moments, Arnau understood why the Nords loved this land so much. The harsh beauty of the snow and ice was a reflection of the Nords themselves, though the knight hardly saw how any Nords could really be considered beautiful.
The lighthouse itself squatted low to the ground, lifting its light just high enough to be seen. Such a stocky structure survived the intense storms of the coast. For the moment, at least. Partially frozen moss dripped from the south-facing windows. A lamp post guttered in the increasing wind. The portal loomed at him, dark and foreboding.
Arnau stopped before the lighthouse and unsheathed his spear, which he held upright, blade pointing into the sky. "From Lord Aquillius, I come before you seeking entrance," he called in a clear voice.
For several moments he waited. There was no answer and no one came. The spear was put away and he glided into the dull gloom of the stairwell. As if in further announcement, his boots clanked loudly on the stone bricks, sending a thousand foot falls echoing up into the shaft. From above came a faint gasp. It sounded young and vaguely feminine. Why is a woman all the way out here?
"Who's there? Announce yourself! I'm armed!" A man of less than twenty winters crept down the stairs, holding a large stick aloft. His eyes were bright and alarmed.
"It is only I, Sir Arnau, come from Lord Aquillius of Solitude to attend to the lighthouse's business," the knight replied, removing his helmet. He set it down on the stairs to free up his hands.
"Lord Aquillius? W-what does he want?"
"I have need of your facilities. You see, a group of corsairs have escaped port with a shipment of my lord's goods. I need to run them aground."
"Run them aground? That's too dangerous! No. I can't let you. Ma'zaka would tan my hide!"
Arnau froze. "Ma'zaka?"
"Yes. Old Khajiit fella the jarl lets run the beacon."
His face hardened. They let a cat run something so important? "I'm afraid I must commandeer this lighthouse. Unless you'd like me to report certain monetary delinquencies to the court..."
"No. That won't be necessary! Please, sir, take all the time you like. I'll just relight the beacon in the morning."
"That will be adequate. By the way, where is Mr...Ma'zaka?"
"Oh, he's gone to Jehanna to visit with relatives. I'm manning the beacon until he returns."
"I see."
"I'll just be g-going now. G-good night, sir."
"Good night..."
"Nitters, sir."
"Nitters."
As Arnau reached the top of the stairs, a door shut below, followed by the definitive click of several locks. The Breton smiled to himself. In the heavy night air, a storm continued to brew, lighting crashing into the sea in flashes that dwarfed the beacon's light. Focusing his will, he lifted a large canister of sea water into the air and upended it onto the fire. Solitude's rocky coast dissolved into the murk.
