Whaling Festival, why Nords chose to celebrate when imminent doom is just to the east was beyond Ashav. He seen far more alien cultures in Black Marsh and High Rock, so this was nothing to be astonished by. Still, he was a practical man, and while Edith joined her countrymen in celebration (Daelin too, probably to scratch his pickpocketing itch), Ashav stayed in his room and studied various reports and maps.
After few hours, the Redguard decided to go outside for a lunch break; that’s when he saw a familiar face.
The white flesh of the Nordic folk seemed to glow as Elmera looked around the Festival. She wasn’t much of one for parties, but the colors were so vibrant despite the grey lands of Skyrim. At least, they were prettier under the effects of Moon Sugar when she upped her dosage just a little bit over the norm. She held a small lunch in her hand, picking at it with the other as she explored. Honestly, she wasn’t such a fan of festivals, let alone Nordic ones, but she felt like seeing something before this Company headed out elsewhere and this seemed sufficient.
It took a few hours and she was finally thinking of going back to her room when she saw Ashav. “Ashav!” She exclaimed, giving a small wave, “How’s your day going?” She asked, a little bit more open than he would remember from the other day. “Having a good festival?”
Browsing through a few stalls, Ashav eventually settled on a paper-wrapped fried fish. He had just payed his four gold coins before Elmera strolled up to greet. “Good of a day as any.” He answered nonchalantly. “I took it the coins served you well.” Nodding at the food in her hands.
“So this is what we worked for, what we cleared out the Argonians out for.” Ashav remarked as he started his walk back. A group of kids suddenly ran in front of him, causing the Redguard to yield way and giving their guardian room to catch up. These children were all Nords, and they were playing a twisted game;
Skin the Argonians.
“I’ve heard of similar northern coast traditions, but it’s the first time seeing one of these.” Ashav commented at two person hanging a string of lanterns between neighboring houses. It was early afternoon, but the town enchanter was already preparing the illuminations. The lanterns energized quickly in response to magicka, glowing a spectrum of red to blue. “Anything like this in Morrowind?” He asked Elmera.
Elmera nodded, “They did, yes. Served quite well. I got to have a more enjoyable lunch than usual, thanks,” She replied as the children ran past. She rolled her eyes - children could be a pain, but Nord children were downright obvious about their poor upbringing.
“I suppose it depends on where you go, and it depends on where it’s located. Bigger cities, yes, of course, and coastal ones as well. But I was more of a studious child, I stayed indoors when I could. Morrowind is rather drab, if I say so myself. Left to see some of the world, I was just thinking of moving on when I heard about you folks, so it’s good I found you.” She crumpled the paper that her meal was served on and found a waste depository for it as they walked.
“Where are you heading now, sir?”
“I presume you worked as a battlemage in Morrowind?” Ashav inquired further. Judging by how effectively the Dunmer woman handled the rioters, this one’s got too much fight for an academic. “Court mage or law enforcement? A lot of recruits are ex-military or guard.” The Redguard wondered. Drab? That hardly sounded reason enough.
“I studied magic in my youth, returned home, and assumed a quiet position in the courts. To be completely honest,” She said, preparing to tell her first flat-out lie to Ashav, “I was little more than a glorified consultant and far from even a court mage. I know how to do magic, but teaching it or explaining it to others is not exactly my specialty. My father worked in the city guard, so he taught me to handle a blade and defend myself; as an only child and his sole daughter, well… You can imagine he’d rather I be able to protect myself than rely on others for it,” The dunmer explained, her hands clasped behind her back, concealed beneath her cloak as they strode side-by-side.
Taking another bite of his fish, Ashav tasted nothing worthy beside burnt out bones. He muttered something about his taste buds weakening with age and wiped his mouth with sleeve. “If you could get used to the routine, work and pay, I believe you'll enjoy a lot more than fine meals in the future.” Of course, Ashav didn't need to mention the gruesome deaths merely one week ago.
“Worry not; I thrive on routine,” She replied simply, shaking her head.
“I was just heading back and drawing up a proposal for the jarl.” Ashav told Elmera his destination. Resuming his walk again, he stuffed the fish wrapper in his pocket, because something as trivial as a piece of paper could be lifesaving at urgent times. “The White River Braves, which is a militia operating in Eastmarch, said the Kamals massacred an Orc stronghold. I, we, can advise Skald to ally with the Orcs.” Ashav bit his teeth bitterly, he could already see Skald’s stubborn face denying the logical. Still, he had to try. “To be fair, there isn't much to do. The Dragonborn and his army are probably swooping into the fight as we speak, and their generals don't seem to like me recently. My private sponsor is off at Solitude, said something about a prophet.”
Elmera furrowed her brow, in all of her travels, she’d not seen more than maybe two Orsimer walking the streets of Skyrim, so her opinion on their so-called aggressive nature and lack of intelligence was one left unformed, but she allowed Ashav his musings aloud, remaining silent and pensive. Her eyes followed a ball as a pair of children went darting past them after it. It was red, but blared so brightly in the lighting… She hoped that soon the effect of her Moon Sugar was ebb, if only slightly, to prevent a headache. At the very least, the noise of the festival, which had grown nearly unbearable an hour ago, was already easing to a rather normal level.
“To be honest, sir, talk of prophets sounds rather… how should I put it… well, from what I can collect, it sounds more likely that Skald would accept your proposal to join the Orcs than such a man truly exists,” She finally replied. When it came to the Eight and One, Elmera hardly saw any reason for them to communicate or deal in the land of mortals for anything short of preventing complete destruction. Even in the Oblivion Crisis, the proclaimed appearance of Akatosh could be disputed by your average cynic.
“No need to call me sir.” Ashav waved it off as he came near the inn and leaned against a railing. “Most of the company’s dea-” Ashav stopped himself at the sight of a battered crowd entering from the east. Leading them was an unmistakable figure with an ugly voice matching his ugly face. “I'll be damned…” He whispered beneath his breath; what timing…
“Come now, I don't think you have signed the contract yet.” Ashav went for the door. Better get this over with, because there’s going to be a lot of talking soon enough.
“Understood. Let’s take care of that…” She responded as she noticed the sudden shift in Ashav’s demeanour. “Pardon me, Ashav, but… Is everything in order?” She asked, referring to the way he cut himself off and switched subjects.
“Everything is in order.” Ashav shook his head and sat down beside his makeshift command desk. “More in order than I expected.”
He pulled out one of many copies of the contract and passed it, along with an inked quill, to Elmera. “The rest of my company just made it back.” The Redguard explained and gave Elmera time to read and sign the paper. “Think Jorwen’s a handful?” He let out a dry chuckle. “Just wait until you meet his daughter.”
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