Sundas, 16th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Here, I sit by the campfire savoring my last sweetroll as I scribble this in. It's 3:00 am, and my guide is out watching the perimeter. He's been gone for awhile, but it's nice to have some solitude to watch Masser and Secunda make their evening rounds. Nearby, I hear a melancholy wolf howl at the twins with a wild sorrow. It's nights like this where I genuinely feel more alive. Maybe that's because an attempt was made on that life just a few hours ago, but who knows? In any case, I'll begin where I ended yesterday, on the question of the mercenary...
"Ogrub the Orc, is the one you want," said the barkeep, who then walked out from behind the counter and to the main part of the tavern. He pointed towards the center of the room, but there was no need. This "Orc" was decidedly difficult to miss. In fact, he was so gigantic I half-assumed he was part Troll. Accompanying his titanic frame was a blank expression hinting he had suffered many a brain injury as a child.
"Well, Ogrub certainly is large, but is he not an imbecile?" I asked.
"What you mean?" the barkeep replied.
"Is he an idiot?"
"I don't think I like your attitude, Elf," said the barkeep in rebuttal.
"It's not attitude, I'm just merely making the observation that he is obviously a half-wit."
He scoffed and began to walk away, but I quickly I grabbed his shoulder.
"Wait."
"What do you want, milk-drinker?" the barkeep scolded as he shrugged my grip off.
"Is there another mercenary for hire?"
The barkeep looked at me with a smoldering gaze, and then finally replied. "Yeah, there's another here right now, but he ain't for hire."
I looked at him with my eyebrow cocked and said "What do you mean 'ain't for hire', sir?"
"I've seen the man refuse at least six fat jobs since he been here, and keeps to 'imself for the most part." The barkeep pointed again, and this time it was not so easy. I looked for a few moments until I saw a shadow. The longer I looked the shadow became an outline, the outline became a shape, and the shape became a hooded man. In a nook at the back of the tavern, a solitary candle scarcely enabled me to make out a few details.
This mercenary was definitely a man, and was much smaller than Ogrub, yet he seemed far deadlier. Borne out of age or fatigue his blonde beard was sprinkled with grey. He was clad in black leather armor with a green hood and cloak. From his nook he watched me. Not in the hateful fashion the barkeep had, but more of a predatory gaze, and he had just locked in on his prey.
"Good luck, Elf," said the barkeep while giving me a not-so-friendly pat on the the shoulder. The barkeep went back to the counter with a smirk while I stood, paralyzed. I glanced back over to find the stranger lighting a pipe, and his legs leisurely unfurled upon the table. I stood there in a half trance until he finally broke the silence.
"Are you going to stand there, or are we going to talk business?"
Mustering the courage that was available to me, I put one foot forward, and then the other. Before I was aware of it, I was inching towards the dark little nook and the stranger housed inside. More of a foot shuffle really, but moving nonetheless. When I reached his table he motioned for me to sit, and sit I did. We sat in silence for some time, analyzing each other.
Finally he asked "Why are you up here in Bruma lad?"
Still intimidated, I responded with something to the effect of "um...uh...uh..."
Before I could shame myself further the man asked "Where are you headed?"
"Skyrim, but I'm in need of a guide." I intentionally omitted the part about needing protection, but he probably was aware I needed it anyway.
"I charge a daily fee of a thousand septims including living and medical expenses."
I sat there with a vacant look on my face. The usual high end mercenary has a rate of five hundred septims per day, but one thousand? Not only would it be expensive, but it would also tap the last of my savings from Summerset. Wanting to defend the remnants of my coin purse I said "How do I... uh... know your services are worth it?"
He threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh, and eventually simmered down.
"I have a proposal lad," said the stranger with a grin.
"What is that?"
"I kill the Orc, and you hire me for your guide."
I was taken aback by his statement, and I answered "Why would you kill the Orc?"
The stranger's expression slackened for the first time since we met. "Because he's here to kill you."
"Ah," I said, trying to mask my internal panic. Afterwards, we did not speak, but there was indeed a silent war of glances across the room.
Comments