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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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That left his Thane’s scheme.

Balgruuf realized he had let the silence stretch on too long- all three members of his court were giving him curious looks. Balgruuf sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Are you well, my jarl?” Proventus inquired.

“I’m fine,” Balgruuf snapped, waving a hand dismissively. Between his brother’s condition and debate over what to do about the fort, he’d been up until shortly before dawn. What little sleep he had gotten had been restless and troubled.

He considered for a moment longer, and then stood abruptly. “Proventus. Speak to Commander Caius, get his appraisal of the ranks., and how much patrols will need to be cut. A list of the dead, too.” Their families would have to be notified, and looked to. “Thane Fiora, we will speak of your idea further in my chambers.” Where they wouldn’t be subject to so many prying ears- it would do to keep the knowledge of the Thane’s possibele deeds and Balgruuf’s endorsement of them from as many people as possible.

His Thane and Irileth followed him back to the jarl’s quarters. Breakfast had been laid out upon the table in his rooms, and he gestured for the Thane to sit and eat. When Irileth made to take up her post by the door, he shook his head.

“Join us, my friend,” he said, sitting down as well. “You’ll be standing long enough today and tonight, and I could use your council.” A look passed between them, Irileth’s eyes flashing with stubbornness before her expression softened and she came to sit beside him.

No matter the difficulties he faced, he could always count on Irileth being at his side. He could hardly recall a time when it hadn’t been so.

“So you’ll approve this jo- my idea?” his Thane asked. She had plucked an apple from the tale and was making short work of it.

He sighed. “As little as I like it, yes.” As easy as it was to forget, this woman was the Dragonborn. If she died, the whole of Tamriel would suffer. Yet… she wouldn’t survive as Dragonborn if she couldn’t handle a few bandits. And her confidence spoke of prior experience with similar work.

“Excellent,” she said, grinning widely as she bit into another apple. “I’ll need a set of farmer’s clothes then, and a bushel or two of potatoes or apples, and a horse. Not a noble’s horse- they’ll spot a trap a mile off. A nice, strong plowhorse, worth stealing but not particular attention.”

“Will you take Lydia with you?” Balgruuf asked. The housecarl could even the odds considerably.

His Thane shook her head. “She would have a hard time passing for a farmer, even out of armor,” she said. “I’m much more convincingly ragged.”

“You’re skilled enough to kill them without raising the alarm?” Irileth said.

The Thane nodded. “I am.”

Irileth eyed her appraisingly. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She glanced over at Balgruuf. “With your permission, my jarl.”

(Meh I messed up my system)

Balgruuf nodded. The Thane looked between them for a moment, and then stood from the table. “I’m up to any test you care to give,” she said.

* * *

Irileth was unnerving. It seemed that whenever Fi was in the keep, Irileth’s eyes followed her. Even when she was hidden in some shadow or out of the housecarl’s line of sight, she could feel her eyes on her. The housecarl never seemed to sleep either, and she could move so quickly and so silently she took Fi off guard sometimes.

Fi hid her uneasiness with her smuggest smile as she followed Irileth out into the hall of the keep. Irileth barked an order to the guards at their posts by the jarl’s throne to take up her position guarding the jarl until she returned.

Fi didn’t miss their soft sounds of disbelief, either.

Outside, the sun had just risen above the mountains, casting a soft glow across the city. She followed Irileth down the steps of Dragonsreach, and to the bench across from the statue that marked the city’s shrine of Talos. The particularly passionate preacher who spent his days yelling at the masses was just arriving, and his first sermon of the day drowned out their exchange.

“That hall over there,” Irileth tipped her head towards the building to their right. It was an enormous longhouse, with a curved roof that resembled the hull of a boat. “That is Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions.” She grimaced in distaste. “You’re lucky. They’ll be just as easy to get past as a bunch of drunken bandits- doubtless they’re still sleeping heavily from last night’s excesses.”

Fi nodded, wondering offhandedly if Irileth was trying to get her killed. The reputation of the Companions had made it all the way to Riften- there were few who could match them in skill on the battlefield, supposedly. But drunken louts were easy to sneak past.

“Their Harbinger, de facto leader of sorts, is a tall Nord with brown braids and two scars across his face,” Irileth murmured, tracing two lines with her fingers from the bridge of her nose to the edge of her jaw. “He carries an elven dagger, enchanted to absorb the health and vitality of its mark. I want you to steal it, and bring it back to me.”

Fi cast a glance at Jorrvaskr, and nodded. “Alright. Anything else I should know?”

“Plenty,” Irileth said with a small smile, “but I doubt the bandits will be so generous with information. I’ll give you an hour.” She stood and walked back towards Dragonsreach.

“Plenty,” Irileth said with a small smile, “but I doubt the bandits will be so generous with information. I’ll give you an hour.” She stood and walked back towards Dragonsreach.

Fi sat on the bench for a few minutes, pretending to listen to the priest while turning over Irileth’s instructions in her head. From her explorations of the city, she knew Jorrvaskr had two doors, but both were large and unsubtle. The one in the back was out of sight of the streets- but it let out to the training grounds.

Irileth had said the Companions followed the stereotype about Nords and alcohol readily, and it was a mead hall. What were the chances of any of them out practicing at barely an hour past dawn?

Time was against her then. She stood, smiling at the priest, and walked unhurriedly past the Gildergreen, to the Wind District. The merchants were just beginning to arrive at their stalls She whiled away a few nervous minute, pretending to be engrossed in Carlotta Valentia’s display of produce, before circling back around a few houses and following the city wall back to the training grounds of Jorrvaskr.

A quick survey of the yard yielded no movement. Fi was about to step from the shadow of the wall, when the back door of the mead hall was pushed upon. A lithe female warrior wearing stripes of war paint across her face and little else crossed the porch, unslinging a bow from her back. Fi froze, watching as the woman stopped a few paces from the porch, turning to the circular arrow targets arrayed at the far end of the training field.

Fi seized her chance and hurried across the field, using a little of her meager magicka to cast Muffle. She had mastered stepping silently, but something in this woman’s bearing told her it would be wise to take the extra precaution.

The doors of Jorrvaskr clicked softly behind her, and she pressed herself back against them. Inside, the mead hall was silent, but for the scratch of straw against the floorboards. An old woman was sweeping the left, her back turned to Fi.

The mead hall was lit by little more than the central hearth, leaving plenty of shadows for her to creep through.

The old woman was blocking the entrance to the rooms at the far end of the hall, so Fi took her chances with the set of stairs closest to her. They led down to a low hall, lined with more tables. She paused for a moment, but the only sound that met her ears was snoring.

(I messed up the titles again)

Peering into the doors she passed, she discovered a storeroom and the Companions’ barracks. Almost every bed in the room was filled, but none of their occupants matched the description of the Companions’ Harbinger.

If he was their leader, it would make sense for him to have his own quarters. She continued along the hall. It ended in a small room with a bookshelf and a table- and another door. She pressed her ears against the door, and only heard more snoring.

Easing the door open a little, she peered inside. It was a small bedroom, better furnished than the other rooms she had passed, and festooned in the trophies of many travels. On the bed lay a brown-haired man.

Fi slipped inside the room, shutting the door softly behind her. The man on the bed shifted, turning towards her, and she froze, but his eyes were still closed. He had a Nord face, with long, straight features, marked by two livid scars that from his nose to his jawline.

Fi allowed herself a small smile as she crept closer to the bed. The man had clearly been in no condition to put things away the night before, and his armor lay in a discarded heap on the floor, along with his weapons. To her good fortune, the armor was leather instead of steel- easy to sift through without making noise.
It took less than a minute to find the elven dagger Irileth had spoken of. When she drew the dagger from its sheathe, the blade glowed a dull crimson, signifying its enchantment. The name Ruinsap was encribed on its hilt. Fi hooked resheathed it and tucked it into her belt before straightening up.

Almost childishly easy, really. She doubted this task reflected the difficulty she would find at Fort Graymoor in the least. Stealing a dagger was far easier than cutting throats.

She was about to leave when something on the man’s endtable caught her eye. It was a small bowl of woad paint, the sort commonly used by Nords as warpaint. Dipping a finger into the paint told her it was still usable.

An idea caught her fancy. Yes, stealing a blade was far easier than cutting a throat- but if she had been an assassin, there would have been nothing stopping her from cutting this man’s throat now. She dipped her fingers further into the bowl, and then leaned over the man and painted a line of woad across his neck.

* * *

Two hours later Fi was on the road, dressed in simple farmer’s clothes, and leading a ploughhorse laden with bushels of apples and tomatoes. Ruinsap was strapped to her thigh.

I'm colossally stupid and somehow when writing this earlier it slipped my find Fi can't read. Guuuh if only I could edit it.
Pretend Irileth told her the dagger's name and she didn't read it off the handle?
I'm really sorry DX

It's alright, A!A, I do that a lot in my fics too. No need to fret :)
But Omg, who is the harbinger of the Companions omg. This is seriously great A!A. Irileth is so cute with Balgruuf and I love the task she set up for Fi. Perfect descriptions! Can't wait for more!

Ahh me too DX Don't think things through well enough...
Eee I'm super glad you're enjoying it! It's a lot of fun to write : D I always thought it was cute how protection of Balgruuf Irileth is, she's so intense compared to the other housecarls.
The Harbinger is a Harbinger of mine... he'll feature a bit more in this fic ;)

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