A Stranger in Skyrim 18

Chapter Eighteen: Argonian Ale

In which possession is nine-tenths of the law.

Her dreams were completely normal, which was a relief. No work, no prophetic visions, no horrible death, just random adventures in lands her mind had made up for her.

She promptly forgot everything about the dream as she woke up, a little disoriented, in her bed at home. She remembered, dully, that it was her day off, and Mom had woken her up a bit ago, announcing that she was heading out to Amtgard. Woo, freedom and solitude.

She spent most of it lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. She just couldn't persuade herself to get up.

When she finally did get up, she went out to the kitchen, burned a pan with eggs in it, and ate the edible remains. She wasn't really a great cook.

That done, she spent her day doing something slightly different; she sought out and downloaded various Minecraft mods, playing around with them until she got them to work together. She didn't actually get to play the game before she woke back up in Skyrim.

Tragic. Still, she woke well-rested, rolling out of bed.

“Hullo.” The girl's voice came from the doorway, and she looked up and over at Lucia, tilting her head to the side. “I'd say good morning, but it's actually night time.”

She reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, yawning hugely. “Uh huh. What are you doing in my room?” She honestly didn't mind, it was just an idle question. Lucia's face fell anyway. “I mean, it's okay, don't get me wrong. I'm just curious, is all.”

“Oh, well … Miss Hulda told me you were up here, and I have something for you, is all.” The girl walked over, holding out a vial with both hands. “Brenuin says it's a healing potion.”

Taking the vial, she smiled up at Lucia. “Now, what makes you think I'm going to need this?”

“Well,” the girl said, thoughtfully, “you kind of look like you've been getting into fights. Your robes are all cut up, and there's blood on them.”

Oh. That made sense. “Okay, how about this – where'd you get that, anyway? Aren't healing potions kind of expensive?” She assumed they would be; anything with magic in it had to be outside the price range of the average beggar child.

“Brenuin gave it to me.”

She frowned. “And what did you have to do for Brenuin to give it to you?”

“We-ell … ” The girl looked down and away, guiltily.

She smiled. “It's okay, you can tell me, I promise.” Inside, she was fuming, but she couldn't let that show on her face, or the girl wouldn't share. Whoever 'Brenuin' was, it looked like he'd been taking advantage of a child.

“Okay … Brenuin said he was thirsty, and he wanted this special bottle of ale Miss Hulda keeps in the back room. So I got it for him, and he gave me the healing potion, and now I'm giving it to you.”

She shook her head. “So you stole something for him?”

“Well … I guess so, but he said Miss Hulda wouldn't miss it anyway, and he's always so nice to me and … And …. ”

She sighed. “Look … I'm sure Brenuin is nice to you, but stealing like that can get you in trouble. You don't want Miss Hulda to kick you out of the inn, do you?”

“Nobody saw me take it, I made sure!”

Not … precisely the lesson she was going for. Still …. “If you're going to do stuff like that, I can't stop you, I guess. Just try not to get caught, okay?” She stood up, reaching out to ruffle Lucia's hair. It was the thought that counted, anyway.

Sort of.

“Now, I've got to go up to Dragonsreach. Did you need anything from me before I go?”

The girl gave her the saddest face. “I'm really hungry, ma'am.”

“Let's get you something to eat.”

She picked up her gear, the Dragonstone, and her sack of gold, and they headed downstairs. She traded a handful of gold for a filling meal, which they shared at one of the tables.

“You can use my bed for the night; I won't be, so someone might as well get some good out of it.” She smiled warmly at Lucia.

The girl beamed. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“Don't call me that,” she said absently, smiling.

An impish grin. “Yes, ma'am.”

When the meal was finished, Lucia headed upstairs with a wave. She headed outside into the night.

Fantastic, it was raining again.

“Foolish old woman! You know nothing! Nothing of our struggles, our suffering!” She couldn't see the speaker, nor did she care to. She leaned back against the door, hiding under the scant protection of the protruding roof of the inn. She didn't much care for the rain.

The old woman folded her arms. “And what of my son? Hm? What of Thorald? Is he nothing? So don't talk to me about suffering.”

“Your son chose his side, and he chose poorly. And now he's gone.” These callous words came from a man in Imperial leathers, illuminated by a brazier outside the Bannered Mare. “Such is the way of war. The sooner you accept his loss, the better.”

The woman sounded defiant. “I will never accept his death. My son still lives, I feel it in my heart. So tell me, Battle-Borns, where is he? Where are you holding my Thorald?”

“Do you believe this old hag?” The first man's voice was dripping with contempt. “'Holding him'? Why, I've got him in my cellar. He's my prisoner.” The man was obviously being sarcastic. “Face it, cow, your stupid son is dead. He died a Stormcloak traitor. And you – you best keep your mouth shut, before you suffer the same.”

“Come on, Father. There's nothing more to be said here.” The two men began to walk off.

What could she possibly do? She sighed, hugely, letting the woman go, too, before she began her ascent to Dragonsreach.

She wasn't some kind of hero, she reminded herself. She'd been extremely lucky to survive as long as she had, and frankly, pretending to be a hero would get her – and the people she tried to help – killed.

No, best stay out of it.

By the time she'd made it up to Dragonsreach, she was already damp.

Ugh.

One of the guards was kind enough to open the door for her, and she stepped inside, heading up the stairs and to the right.

“You see? The terminology is clearly First Era, or even earlier,” Farengar was saying. “I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text, perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War.” If only she'd paid attention in history class … ah, who was she kidding, even if she had, her history would have been useless in this world. “If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other, later texts.”

Farengar had a shady-looking woman in tight-fitting, leather armor as his guest. “Good,” she said simply. “I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers.”

“Oh, have no fear!” Farengar smiled to the woman. “The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research.”

Mariah leaned on the doorframe, watching the two talk.

The woman pushed off of the countertop, looking over at the mage. “Time is running, Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question. The Dragons have come back.”

“Yes, yes, don't worry.” He waved her off. “Although, the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable ….” He shook his head. “Now, let me show you something – ”

The woman looked straight at her. She tilted her head to the side. “You have a visitor.”

“Hm? Ah, yes!” Farengar turned his attention to her. “The Jarl's protégé! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems.”

She felt one eyebrow lift. “Was I supposed to?”

“Well – I mean, no ...” His eyes fell on the stone in her hands. “Ah, the Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way.”

She shifted the stone, then rested it on his desk. “So, I got you the Dragonstone. What happens next?”

“That is where your job ends, and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued here in Skyrim.” He glanced over at the woman. “My … associate … here will be most pleased as well. She located the Dragonstone, through means she has yet to divulge to me.”

The woman regarded her curiously. “You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work.” She turned her attention to Farengar. “Just send me a copy of …. ”

“Farengar!” Irileth called. “Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon's been sighted nearby!”

The elf looked over at Mariah. “You should come, too.”