3:12PM,13th Of Frostfall, Whiterun Hold
The White River; one of multiple rivers that branched out from Lake Illanalta, a guaranteed path to the fortress of the Nords, Windhelm. Last Corvus had heard, the city was now a war-torn and pitiful place. Said to be filled with poor beggars, and guards at every turn. From what Vorian had told him, the Imperials had sent out three attacks against the city, and much like their effort to capture Ulfric, they did not succeed.
The sun beat down on them, leaving them at a languid and sluggish pace. Had they hurried, they probably would be in Eastmarch, but no. Sweat trickled down the young man's face as he stared down into the water beside him. His reflection was crystal clear, shocking in Skyrim waters. He titled his neck downwards, and his waterskin slowly slid off into his hands. The Imperial dipped the pouch within the river, and lifted it up gently, careful not to spill a single drop. He brought the pouch up to his lips, and he slowly drank as the others watched him.
"Come on now, boy! I've been thirsty as well, but we can't just wait here while you drink." Bellowed the Altmer.
Corvus cocked his head at Vorian, "Why not, if you wish, you can drink from my supply now, before it gets warm."
"No, I mean we must continue moving, this river, cleaner than most in the province, is likely a common hunting ground for Sabre Cats and Trolls, perhaps even Bears. So, I insist we hurry along before one finds us."
"No worries, elf," began Dar-Quomed, "I've hunted in these parts before, few Sabre Cats until we pass by Ivarstead's territory. No trolls either, the worst we'll find here is an overgrown Mudcrab. So let the child drink, no?"
Something about the way the Khajiit spoke seemed wrong. It was as if he spoke the common language, just as well as any Imperial. None of that Khajiiti grammar. He recalled Dar-Quomed was fluent in many languages, but it was strange, nonetheless.
Tsleexith returned after about five minutes of them waiting by the stream, "The fields are clear. We can continue, northwards."
Vorian nodded, a deep scowl carved into his decadent face. His eyes held a frightful glimmer, a darker reflection of the sun that baked them while they voyaged.
"How long until we reach Ivarstead?"
"Not too long, my boy. We should get there by tonight."
The Khajiit muttered, "We would've been there yesterday, if you two had moved faster.."
A pair of elven eyes narrowed on Dar-Quomed, but the Altmer that they belonged uttered not a single syllable.
A cacophony of horns rung in the distance. Not more than about eighty meters beyond them, a large blue and gold carriage with ornate decorations was being pulled by four horses. The carriage turned violently beside a narrow rock formation, heading toward the group of travelers. A large Saxhleel in the front, directed the horses towards them.
With a thundering clap from the Argonian, the horses immediately halted, only about three meters away from them. The Argonian knocked on a small stained glass window behind his seat, and the faint sound of unlocking multiple locks echoed shortly after.
The man that exited was a young lad, short red hair clearly kept very well. Pale skin almost as faint as that of an ancient Falmer seeing light for the first time. His face was clean shaven, and his eyes were a dark hazel. He wore a green robe unlike anything Corvus had ever laid eyes upon. It was of such a high caliber, for a noble that has risen well above most, if not all other nobles. The most surprising though, was the man's age. He appeared so young, not possibly a day over thirty, and likely many under.
"Hail, travelers. What brings you upon such a nomadic journey?"
Vorian hesitated before answering, "We are looking to head to Windhelm, to meet a friend of mine, a bright, young scholar. Why do you ask, stranger?"
The man grinned, "I run a company here in Skyrim, and you travelling folk are a great percentage of my customers. On that note, I, coincidently am headed to Windhelm as well, for a business meeting. That being said, a small portion of my company lies there. I can take you to Windhelm within a day, if you head down to at the very least take a look at my business."
"What is this business?" Inquired a curious Corvus.
"It's a small casino, run underground, many of the town's notable members can be found there."
"Would a certain, Calixto happen to attend?"
"Calixto Corrium, you mean? Yes indeed. He does attend, every night."
Vorian flashed a smile for a brief second before calming himself, "Very well, I accept your offer-"
Dar-Quomed roared, "What about our say, elf?"
"Khajiit, I have something for you as well.." The man tossed a violet bottle decorated with four sapphires and a silver band around it.
The Khajiit's eyes widened, and gave a purr-like sound in agreement. Tseelxith gave a frown but said nothing, gazing cautiously at the carriage. It appeared safe, a small card with a casino name was in the man's front pocket hanging out precariously. Perhaps this was safe, an honest deal. Or perhaps, this strange business man was not one to make an honest deal.
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