“Niranye. A pleasure to meet you.” she said silkily. “I have a stall in the markets. I buy all sorts of goods and I give good prices on all my merchandise. If you’ve ever got anything interesting to sell, do make sure to visit.”
“She’ll be nowhere near the Stone Quarter,” her aunt snapped. “You know how dangerous it is for us up there with the Nords!”
Niranye hardly seemed to share her opinion. “If you are content to dwell in these slums for life then so be it, Suvaris,” she said imperiously. “That does not mean your niece wants the same.”
“It’s not that easy, Niranye,” spoke another man. “You know how they tax us. We scrap together what we can under their tyranny and they still treat us with distaste.”
“If this is about my prices again, Revyn,” her tone became stronger.
“I just don’t understand how you can do it. You always manage to sell things so cheaply.”
“I’ve told you, it’s just a matter of finding the right suppliers.”
The man, Revyn, looked pleading. “Just, let me meet them next time they’re around.” he begged. “You introduce me and I’ll do the rest.”
Niranye was unable to grant him response for conversation was, at that moment, suddenly halted. The establishment had been entered by a tall and broad-shouldered woman in elaborately carved armour. Azrilea was quite certain, once her mask was removed and blonde hair fell across her shoulders, that this woman was a Nord. If this woman’s presence was unexpected or affronting to those inside, however, it did not show. Instead there was polite greeting from behind the counter and she, whom they called Hjordia, approached in easy stride.
“Have you spoken to the guards?”
This was the question first posed in the direction of the newest arrived patron. It served to have her desert her drink, with an exhausted sort of expression crossing her face.
“I’ve tried. I thought, maybe... but, maybe now’s not the time.” she said uncertainly. “I’ve heard the army lost Fort Kastav to the Imperial Legion.”
A statement as such meant little to Azrilea, but apparently quite a bit more to others in the room. This resulted in a small stir of good spirits. Hjordia looked far from as pleased, if the averting of her eyes were any indication.
Nonetheless, others were certainly cheered.
“They’d have nothing left but Eastmarch.” commented one such person. “The Legion will storm the city.”
“If they can take Fort Amol,” said Hjordia, “then there’s no doubt.”
“I cannot say I’d be disappointed to see Imperial colours in the city.” spoke Revyn stiffly.
“But at the price of battle?” asked her aunt. “They’ll sack the city. And don’t think the Stormcloaks won’t give us up first.”
“I’m sure the citizens will be well protected.” the blonde intoned meekly.
“The Nord citizens, you mean!” growled the man who swept the floors. His broom, he had begun to wave about in protest. “They’ll leave the Grey Quarter to rot.”
“You can bet there’ll be nothing left.”
The topic spurned all manner of individual arguments within the cornerclub. There were raised voices in discussion over defending their properties themselves, whilst others saw fit to drown their concerns in freshly poured goblets. The Nord woman quite delicately removed herself from the epicentre of the outburst and consequently seemed to find herself drawn into discussion with Revyn. Conversation at Azrilea’s own end of the establishment was meanwhile dominated by her aunt who continued with great purpose in enlightening her niece of just how unsafe Windhelm was.
Azrilea sought distraction from the increasingly tedious line of discussion through observing the crowd. Niranye, who seemed to dislike her opinion going to waste, was involved in quite a back and forth with the broom-wielding employee and his irate employer. Another man sat well across the room, lacking any apparent interest in the conversations happening around him.
The Nord remained speaking with the store owner, Revyn, who, for his part, looked nothing less than skittish. Azrilea had only just come to wonder if their conversation was not of a pleasant nature, when the woman placed a hand, no doubt meant to be comforting, against his shoulder and nodded in earnest through her response as though trying to convey a serious understanding.
Angry People Are Not Always Wise (3/?)
“She’ll be nowhere near the Stone Quarter,” her aunt snapped. “You know how dangerous it is for us up there with the Nords!”
Niranye hardly seemed to share her opinion. “If you are content to dwell in these slums for life then so be it, Suvaris,” she said imperiously. “That does not mean your niece wants the same.”
“It’s not that easy, Niranye,” spoke another man. “You know how they tax us. We scrap together what we can under their tyranny and they still treat us with distaste.”
“If this is about my prices again, Revyn,” her tone became stronger.
“I just don’t understand how you can do it. You always manage to sell things so cheaply.”
“I’ve told you, it’s just a matter of finding the right suppliers.”
The man, Revyn, looked pleading. “Just, let me meet them next time they’re around.” he begged. “You introduce me and I’ll do the rest.”
Niranye was unable to grant him response for conversation was, at that moment, suddenly halted. The establishment had been entered by a tall and broad-shouldered woman in elaborately carved armour. Azrilea was quite certain, once her mask was removed and blonde hair fell across her shoulders, that this woman was a Nord. If this woman’s presence was unexpected or affronting to those inside, however, it did not show. Instead there was polite greeting from behind the counter and she, whom they called Hjordia, approached in easy stride.
“Have you spoken to the guards?”
This was the question first posed in the direction of the newest arrived patron. It served to have her desert her drink, with an exhausted sort of expression crossing her face.
“I’ve tried. I thought, maybe... but, maybe now’s not the time.” she said uncertainly. “I’ve heard the army lost Fort Kastav to the Imperial Legion.”
A statement as such meant little to Azrilea, but apparently quite a bit more to others in the room. This resulted in a small stir of good spirits. Hjordia looked far from as pleased, if the averting of her eyes were any indication.
Nonetheless, others were certainly cheered.
“They’d have nothing left but Eastmarch.” commented one such person. “The Legion will storm the city.”
“If they can take Fort Amol,” said Hjordia, “then there’s no doubt.”
“I cannot say I’d be disappointed to see Imperial colours in the city.” spoke Revyn stiffly.
“But at the price of battle?” asked her aunt. “They’ll sack the city. And don’t think the Stormcloaks won’t give us up first.”
“I’m sure the citizens will be well protected.” the blonde intoned meekly.
“The Nord citizens, you mean!” growled the man who swept the floors. His broom, he had begun to wave about in protest. “They’ll leave the Grey Quarter to rot.”
“You can bet there’ll be nothing left.”
The topic spurned all manner of individual arguments within the cornerclub. There were raised voices in discussion over defending their properties themselves, whilst others saw fit to drown their concerns in freshly poured goblets. The Nord woman quite delicately removed herself from the epicentre of the outburst and consequently seemed to find herself drawn into discussion with Revyn. Conversation at Azrilea’s own end of the establishment was meanwhile dominated by her aunt who continued with great purpose in enlightening her niece of just how unsafe Windhelm was.
Azrilea sought distraction from the increasingly tedious line of discussion through observing the crowd. Niranye, who seemed to dislike her opinion going to waste, was involved in quite a back and forth with the broom-wielding employee and his irate employer. Another man sat well across the room, lacking any apparent interest in the conversations happening around him.
The Nord remained speaking with the store owner, Revyn, who, for his part, looked nothing less than skittish. Azrilea had only just come to wonder if their conversation was not of a pleasant nature, when the woman placed a hand, no doubt meant to be comforting, against his shoulder and nodded in earnest through her response as though trying to convey a serious understanding.