A Steelhead for a Hard Head
Black faded from his vision as each eye opened one-by-one. The wooden rafters greeted him as he came to realization what had happened the prior night. After promising his word to Solveig that he would help her find her father, dead or alive, he returned to
Windpeak Inn. Once inside, he purchased a room for the night. Exhausted still from the fight with Do’Karth despite Niernen’s healing powers, he crawled into bed with no desire to engage in drinking. Sleep took him quickly, until the sound of Dough-Boy’s voice woke him. He staggered from the warmth of his bed, his words barely registering in his head as he jammed his feet into the worn leather boots.
“Awaken! Awaken! Emergency meeting!” Much to his dismay the emergency meeting actually held a degree of… well, emergency. As Ashav explained, there were a series of murders in Dawnstar that raised the attention of both the locals and the Jarl. And to boot, the blame fell on Daixanos and Tsleeixth. Even though it was the dead of the night, and Leif had just woken from a deep sleep, he could still comprehend the severity of the situation. Not to mention he knew,
he knew, that Tsleeixth wouldn’t dare do such a thing. After all, why would he murder the Paxseech? That especially made little sense, even for Dax. Why would the Argonians kill someone they respected? Sure, there were always outliers, but that seemed odd even for an Argonian. This… these blatant string of murders held little when it came to logic. The captain of the
Steelhead, Vurwe, and Gordo, and Almad were also murdered. He hadn’t met the woman nor her bodyguard, but he vaguely recalled Almad, a rather striking Redguard, who served Dibella with a passion.
His attention focused on the makeshift tail as an iron-clad Khajiiti woman, who he had yet to exchange proper introductions, sniffed the object. From her observations, she could not distinguish any particular scent asides from the smell of well treated leather. However, the meaning of this was lost on him at this time of night.
Under Ashav’s direct orders, he, and several others were charged with the task of conducting an independent investigation. This would allow the company to find the true murderer, and clear both Tsleeixth and Daixanos from judgement. Leif returned to his quarters for the remainder of the early morning hours. Though he was tired, sleep did not come so readily this second time around.
Resting on his back, his eyes inspected the intricate grain of the rafters above his bed. He pondered for a while, on the matter of the murders.
‘This series of unfortunate events cannot all be the source of spontaneity… These people either have a connection that I have yet to understand, nor cannot see, or the murderer is using these murders for something far more sinister.’ Truly, his own thoughts unsettled him, yet with the heavy weight of sleep pressing down on him, Leif succumbed to familiar touch of sleep.
He woke this time, to the sound of a loud commotion in the hall. At first, his mind darted to the siege of Windhelm.
’Kamals?’, he wondered in a daze of fading slumber.
Leif sprang from his bed, he tugged on his clothes in record speed. Orvar would be proud, and perhaps liken his spryness to the time he fell asleep in the barn of an unfortunate milkmaid he bedded. He skipped washing the sleep from his face, and half-fell half-scrambled for the door. The door flew open to reveal a scene organized chaos. He saw sailors, and mercenaries alike from the company bustling about. Many shouldered rucksacks with weapons sheathed.
‘Bless you Talos… He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that the commotion was not the source of a Kamal invasion. No, these were the members readying for the mission to Bleakrock. His mind wandered to Niernen, would she be one of the many to go on the voyage? He settled for keeping an eye out for her in the least, and avoiding Sevine or Do’Karth for the day. He could imagine how much of a spitting viper the Huntress would be after the fight. Leif returned to his room, and gathered his belongings, pausing to wash his face before returning to the hall.
For the voyage ahead armor needed mending, blades sharpened, supplies replenished, and farewells to be said. He spotted many a familiar face, but kept to himself as the shame of the duel with Do’Karth hung heavily on him like an ominous black cloud. Already, whispers of the duel had circulated within the company, and amongst the citizens of Dawnstar. A Nord defeated by a Khajiit, what a sorry sight to behold. He snatched up an apple from a plate on the long table, and set out for the docks. While he could inquire after other people, he decided that speaking with like-minded people would yield the best results. So, he left Windpeak, and headed towards the Steelhead.
Seated on the edge of the dock where the Steelhead sat moored, Leif watched the bustling activity aboard the ship. For this mission, the Steelhead would be put to use. Under his scrutinizing eye, he could see why the ship was selected. In comparison to the
Kyne’s Tear, it was slightly bigger in size, but more importantly, better armored. After the last encounter with the Kamals on the water, possessing an adequately armored ship could end up saving lives.
For over an hour, he watched the crew hustle and bustle aboard deck as he bit lazily into the apple. Once he reached the core, he chucked it into the waters below.
“Tell me you’re not a sailor aboard the
Steelhead.” A peculiar voice caught his attention, the owner sounded female, though by the connotation of their words, they didn’t sound particularly happy. His head twisted over his shoulder to see a stocky Nord woman in leather armor, her hands were planted upon her hips while a long blonde plait fell over one shoulder. Her mouth formed a hard, thin line. She didn’t seem to pleased on seeing him.
“What’s it to you?” Leif asked, if he wanted information, he didn’t want to scare anyone away.
“Because if you
are, then I’ve got half the mind to put a boot to your backside and send you into the water.”
“In that case, no ma’am,” He scrambled to his feet, and extended a hand for her to shake, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Call me Laila.” The blonde said, a grin splitting her face as she accepted the hand.
“Laila it is. I’m Leif. Are you a sailor onboard?” He gestured to the ship behind him.
“Aye. We’re making ready to leave for Bleakrock. You’re one of the mercenaries, eh?”
“I am. Though I won’t be going on this voyage.”
“What a shame. You look like you know your way around a ship.” Laila added with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I know my way around more than just a ship.” He said, a sly smirk spreading across his face.
“Come again?” She growled, and brought one hand up into a curled fist.
“I didn’t mean you any harm, I’ve just got a funny way of going about my words. Can I come aboard with you?” At his request, Laila regarded him with suspicion, her eyes narrowed as if she would unveil something about him she had not seen before. Satisfied that she had not, the Nord let out a gruff sigh.
“As long as you put yourself to work, I don’t mind. It’s Torbin you’ve got to watch out for, he doesn’t take too kindly to lolly-gaggin’.”
“And who exactly is Torbin?” Leif asked, now trailing behind Laila as she headed up the gangplank.
“He’s our new captain. Used to be the first mate until… until Alberich met his end. Alberich was a good captain, he was fair, and knew these waters like the back of his hand.”
“Wasn’t Alberich the Thane of Dawnstar?” Leif asked, keeping pace with her as she headed below deck.
“Aye.” She grunted, and then pointed to a congregation of barrels. “We’re to make room for the extra persons we’re to take on. Help me roll these above deck.” As she ordered him what to do, Leif watched in awe as she hefted one barrel up the stairs as if it were a sack of flower.
When he made his way above deck, sweat already beading on his brow from the physical labor, he spotted Laila standing where three other barrels awaited. Standing alongside her was a grey-haired Nord, a man who reminded him of Atgeir. He had a thinning crown of peppered hair, and a beard riddled with wooden beads.
“Put it right here, we’ll rope them together and box them in to prevent them from rolling about the deck.” She said with a pointed finger.
Rolling it into place was certainly easier than rolling it up the stairs. When he did as asked, Leif dusted his hands, and focused his attention on the older Nord. “A pleasure to meet you.” He said, reaching out his hand to shake. “The name’s Leif.”
“Likewise, Aarne Oak-shield.” The seasoned sailor cracked a toothy grin, wherein several teeth were missing. A repulsive odor clung to his words as he spoke causing Leif’s stomach to turn in protest.
“Say… you wouldn’t happen to be a Shield-Brother from the war now, would you?”
“I was. I’m proud to have served my country and my kinsmen. I wasn’t going to let us be crushed under the heel of the Thalmor.”
“Nor I, I didn’t have a problem with the Empire until they turned on their backsides like a bunch of lily-livered cod. That’s when I had enough.” Laila piped up, now that he had the chance to stand closer to her, he could see that she was older than, perhaps by five or seven years. Her eyes held deep lines that creased every time she smiled or squinted.
“I take it many of the sailors aboard served in the war?” Leif asked, nodding his head in agreement to their statements.
“Aye. You’re a Nord, you know how it goes.” Aarne said, and clapped him on the shoulder. “I believe there’s more barrels to be moved.” It seemed he wouldn’t get much information out of these weathered sailors.
Over the course of two hours, Leif helped prepare the
Steelhead for departure. He didn’t mind in the least, after all, his ulterior motives were more benign. If he could get the crew to think less of his appearance, the better.
He found an opening to address two sailors who were arranging beds and hammocks to accommodate the mercenaries. Laila and Aarne had both gone their separate ways, and had provided little information on the events that had unfolded the past few days. Their interests were focused on preparations, not wagging tongues.
By his experience from nearly a decade spent sailing, he could tell the two sailors were still green around the ears.. One had accomplished in growing a full beard, while the other sported a patchy growth of brown hair on his chin. He joined them without a word, and began tethering the hammocks.
“I don’t give a hoot what you think, Markus, I’m just tellin’ ya how it is. I’m sick, and I’m tired o’ being pushed around like I’m nothin’ more than a piece o’ shite. Cap’n Torbin’s not experienced enough to be leading us. And if you ask me, I can tell you right quick that something’s not right.” This was the second time Leif had heard of sailors aboard the
Steelhead speak ill of their newly appointed captain.
“O’ don’t be daft now, you clog-head. Rorin, when did you ever see Torbin speak ill o’ Alberich? Huh? Tell me, now.”
“Well, I ain’t ever
heard him speak bad of Alby, but I’ve damned well
seen the looks he’s given him. Like he just ate a bowl o’ sour porridge.” This caught Leif’s attention, he tried to hide his surprise and kept his back to them as he worked slowly on securing the rope for the hammock.
“And these cut in wages ain’t gonna cut it. Sure, three septims less ain’t much, but it’s
my three septims.”
“Three septims less you can spend on ale, eh?” At that, they both chuckled. “Well you don’t hear me complainin’ now do you?”
“Well that’s cause you ain’t got two mouths to feed, Markus.” He grunted with disapproval.
Leif knew he had to find a way to question them, the problem was… how? An idea dawned on him, and if he didn’t act now, he would lose his chance to uncover any possible leads.
“How many more of these hammocks do we need to put up?” He asked, drawing their attention.
At first, the two sailors looked at Leif, puzzled perhaps at the question, or rather, puzzled at his presence. The one called Markus reached up and scratched his head, a look of complete confusion washed over him.
“What did the Ca’n say, Uthred?”
“Uh… I think he wanted ten?” Uthred, as his partner called him, began to count the hammocks they had erected. “We need four more.”
“Right.” Leif agreed, his chance was slipping fast. “So your wages have been cut too?” It wasn’t like he
hadn’t noticed the delay in his pay from the company, that’s what he had been told at least.
“Aye. Seems like it’s all politics anyways.”
“What makes you think that?” He asked, certainly an interesting take on the subject. He was beginning to doubt that these two men weren’t so blockheaded after all.
“Well this is how I look at it-”
“Oh shite, here we go now-”
“Pipe down, eh?” Markus snapped. “Right, so here’s how I see it. We’ve got the bloody Kamal to fight, yeah? And now we’ve also got these damned Argonians holed up outside our city. We’ve also got refugees from the east pouring into Dawnstar. So the problem is, resources are dwindling, and guess what? Prices are going up. And they’re going up because Skald likes to keep his belly fat along with all of his friends. So that’s the problem for us. No one wants to hear the common man’s plight.”
“Do you think it’s got anything to do with the murders here?” Leif asked, highly aware that he could draw unwanted attention from that question alone.
“I don’t know. I’ve got two theories on that though.”
“You, and your theories-”
“Ey! What did I say? Like I said, theories. Theory number one, those murders are a big ol’ feckin cover-up for Alby’s murder. No one seems overly concerned that the Thane of Dawnstar, and cap’n o’ this ship is dead. And no one, seems to be curious
why he was targeted. But listen, I tell you what, that Torbin is awfully close to the jarl. He’s run a few
special missions for ol’ Skald. Who knows, maybe Torbin wanted power all along, and Skald saw a chance to kill two birds with one stone. Help out Torbin get a promotion, and also find a way to get rid of those nasty blight-infested lizards.”
“So what’s theory number two?”
“Yeh, theory number two is just that. Someone here doesn’t like, I dunno, the Argonians, or maybe they don’t like Skald, but my point is this. Someone is trying to stir up trouble in Dawnstar to cover something up. These murders are a good cover-up for something more evil afoot here. For all I know, maybe those lizards they arrested are the culprits after all. I still think that Torbin’s got a hand in this.”
“Well… did you see anything suspicious a few nights ago?” he ventured, wondering just how far he could press them for information, “Did you happen to see Torbin, or perhaps one of the Argonian’s slinking about?”
“Now that you mention it… Torbin was visiting Skald that night Alberich was murdered.” Markus said, stroking his chin.
“Oi, but you know what? I did see a big ol’ commotion late that night. There was some strange hooded person lurking around the docks that same night too.” The one Markus called Uthred spoke up.
“Did they look...like a lizard? Did you see a tail, perhaps?” Finally, he had found something worthwhile.
“Come to think of it… I didn’t. But whoever that person was rather short. Coulda been a Bosmer.”
“What makes you think a Bosmer?” Uthred said through a surprised laugh.
“Bosmer’s are short! Why else? Though I suppose it could have been a woman… or maybe someone younger?”
“Like a child?” Leif felt as if he were being led in circles now, it seemed that these two were just full of suspicions about everything. He couldn’t make heads or tail of the situation. He shook his head at the two of them, and did his best to refrain from letting out an exasperated sigh.
“No, no, not a child. Like a youth, you know, one of those wily teenagers. I know that Sigrid, she’s the widow of Elof, she’s got two hooligans for sons. I forget their names. They’re pretty set in their ways, just like their father. Can’t tolerate anyone whose not a Nord.”
With this newfound information, Leif helped finish setting up the hammocks, and arranging the beds before he disappeared above deck. He caught sight of Hargjorn and gave him nodded a hello. He also spotted Ariane with a peculiar staff next to her, and worst of all Dumhuvud. He skirted around him, and disappeared off deck, making his way back into town. Perhaps this widowed Sigrid could provide him more answers on the matter, that is, if he could find her.
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