Epilogue: Prologue

1.

Business was good. Almost too good. There never seemed to be a moment when you could just take a few days to go fishing down at Lake Ilinalta anymore. But you really had no right to complain, most people had come out much worse after the recent events. Falkreath had been left relatively intact after the Oblivion crisis, but in the Old Holds there had been widespread destruction. The daedra’s fire magic had taken its toll on the mainly wooden towns of Skyrim. Now that the country had started to rebuild, the lumber from Falkreath hold was in more demand than ever. You were watching Halvar and Torgny working by the riverbank. The next shipment of pine logs was being prepared to be sent downriver, but you still had to wait for Erika to bring down the last set of logs with the ox-team. The logs would then be tied together into timber rafts that could be ferried on the White River all the way to Windhelm.

“Hey!” A shout from the forest behind you. “A little help over here?” You recognise the voice as Erika. Dragging the logs the last part of the way down to the river was the hardest part, because of the steep and rocky riverbank. You sigh and start walking up the forest trail. It would be a few more hours of work before you could go back to the camp.

It had almost gotten dark by the time you and your crew had finished tying up the rafts, but now everything was ready for you to set off the following morning. You hiked back to the logger's camp together with Torgny and Erika. You had left poor Halvar to guard the timber rafts, just in case some outlaws would be stupid enough to try to steal them. He had a fire going and the nights were getting warmer anyway, so it might not be so bad. You also suspected Halvar had a stash of mead hidden somewhere, which could explain why he was so quick to accept the task.

As you get closer to the camp you are surprised to see two unfamiliar silhouettes sitting on one of the logs around the fireplace in the center of the camp. You are even more surprised when you see the tails. You really need to have a talk with the foreman about who she lets into the camp. You see Eyvor - the logger foreman - sitting opposite the two strangers. The lingering smell of fried pork buns and the empty cooking pan tells you they have recently finished eating.

Putting on your best fake smile you go over to greet them. It turns out one of them is an Argonian and the other one a Khajiit. You introduce yourself as Rune, the owner of this logging company. They thank you for your hospitality, and present themselves as “Kvillviv” and “Katja”. At least that’s what you think they said. It’s a bit hard to tell with their accents, which you guess are imperial because of how they look. Both of them are wearing heavy imperial clothes and cloaks and you wonder how they aren’t sweating to death wearing all that, it’s practically summer. Then you ponder whether the beast races even can sweat.

You ask them as nicely as you can what they are doing here and what hospitality exactly they were promised as you send an angry glare at Eyvor on the other side of the fire. Eyvor looks annoyingly amused. The argonian answers that they are travellers from Cyrodiil who are on their way north to Windhelm. They had stayed in Falkreath last night at the Eternal Rest inn, and had intended to continue on foot, but they’d been warned about dangers on the road ahead. The innkeeper had recommended they buy passage on a raft heading down the river instead, and sent them here. You’re glad old Vibjörn is sending business your way, but he should really change the name of his inn if he wants travellers to stay more than one night. You tell the Argonian that they are right to be worried about taking the road. Many of the people who lost their homes and livelihoods in the war have turned to banditry, and outsiders like you would look like easy targets, you tell them.

“If you have the gold we can arrange space on one of the rafts. But we leave tomorrow at dawn, so you’d better be ready by then.” You try to figure out what price they would be willing to pay, and how much you would actually need to make it worth the trouble.

“Is 200 septims enough?” the Argonian asks. That’s honestly a lot more than you expected them to afford, and more than what you would normally charge passengers.

“That sounds reasonable,” you reply. “For that I can get you to Windhelm, and provisions for the journey… I see you have no problems eating our food at least.” The expression on the Khajiit changed to something reminding you of a guilty dog.

“Sorry but the lady offered us some food and well I was just very hungry, you see I only brought these salty biscuits for the trip and-”

“It’s fine,” you cut the Khajiit’s apology off. “What kind of Nord would I be if I denied you the common courtesy of a meal,” you say, while really thinking about the increasing price of meat during these lean times. People might have called you cheap or greedy, but you usually told them that’s what it takes to run a business. No one could deny that what you had achieved was thanks to hard work and clever choices, and not just inheritance or luck.

“Thanks anyway, Rune-ee” the Khajiit continued, “this is the first time someone offered us a free meal since we set off from Anvil.”

“It’s pronounced Rú-neh,” you try to explain, but wonder why you even bother.

For a moment you consider sitting down with them and hearing their story, if nothing else you would get a better feeling for if they can be trusted. However your body is aching for rest and sleep after a long day of working, and knowing you have to get up well before dawn to get started on time, you decide to go to your tent instead.

“Eyvor, you might as well bring our guests something to drink,” you tell your foreman. “See to it that they have what they need and are ready tomorrow. I’m turning in early tonight.” As you walk past her you also whisper: “Make sure they have the gold they promised”. Eyvor just sighs in response. You’ve always thought she was too trusting of strangers, but then again she had lived in Cyrodiil, and was probably more used to dealing with new people. As you walk towards your tent you see Erika and Torgny sitting themselves down around the fire, flagons of mead in their hands. Sometimes it pains you to be the responsible person, to keep track and organize everything. All of your men (women included) expect you to have a plan, and have complete knowledge about what needs to be done all the time. You have to fake it sometimes, but you know that they need leadership, and as long as your crew can trust you, they can be content with working the tasks you give them. This puts a lot of stress on your mind, but somehow the gold you make can rationalise any sacrifice. This is a burden you’re happy to take. As you lay down in the tent and pull the furs over you, you almost immediately fall asleep.

---

2.

(You are now the Argonian)

All of this had gone better than expected. You haven’t had any serious trouble since leaving Cyrodiil. Katia is no longer suffering from the constant nightmares she’s been having. She still has trouble sleeping, but her situation seems to have improved since the end of the Oblivion crisis. You almost can’t believe all the crazy things that happened, some of which you saw with your own eyes, and some you only heard from Katia, or through rumors. But that’s in the past now, and life must go on. Katia was worried she might have offended a few too many important people in Cyrodiil, and decided to travel for a while. You thought that the least you could do to thank her for everything she had done was to follow her on her next journey. You had to go look for new material for your next book anyway. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

Now you’ve officially entered Skyrim. The mountains here didn’t look much different than the mountains on the Cyrodiil side, but as you made your way down to Falkreath the snow covered mountain peaks gave way to large conifer forests stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was the month of Rain’s Hand, and soon Second Seed would come, but in Skyrim’s climate, the snow still lay thick outside the forests, and no one could have planted even a First Seed yet.

It seemed like fate for once had smiled upon you and Katia as you came to Skyrim. After spending one night in Falkreath you had learned a group of timber rafters were setting off on the White River the very next day, and that they might have room for passengers. This seemed like a far better alternative to walking, not only because of the threats that could appear on the road, but you would also make much better time traveling by boat - or raft as the case may be. You had noticed that while Katia didn’t lack motivation, she certainly didn’t have the stamina to travel by foot for days on end. Getting this far really seemed to have pushed her limits - she was practically limping forwards - but she made no complaints and you had to admire her resolve.

Eyvor - the foreman of the loggers camp who had greeted you when you arrived - was a Nord like most of the other people you had seen since you entered Skyrim, but she at least seemed more open towards you and could speak the Imperial dialect without problem. She had offered you the simple food that was the logger’s staple: a mixture of flour, water and salt fried in lard over an open fire together with pork. This created the “coal bun” which wasn’t at all bad, and it contained the energy needed for the type of work the loggers and log drivers were doing. Katia certainly liked them. She must have gone through half a pig’s worth of lard and pork by now. You’re glad the boss of this camp accepted to take you on, but he didn’t seem entirely comfortable about it. He basically went straight for his tent after arriving here, but you guess he might just have been really tired.

Some of the workers pour themselves generous helpings from an open keg of whatever alcoholic beverage these Nords are producing. Eyvor offers you some as well, and you glance at Katia to see how she reacts.

“I… Uh… don’t drink alcohol,” Katia manages to say.

“Come on!” Eyvor fills a flagon from the tap. “Don’t be shy, this is not just any old bottled ale, this is proper, fresh and locally produced mead, I guarantee it’s better than those fancy wines you have down in Cyrodiil.”

Katia turns to you with a look that’s definitely saying help me. But you haven’t had a drink in days, and this certainly smells good. You reach forward and accept the large mug from Eyvor.

“Can I just have a glass of water?” Katia asks quietly.

“Haha, no! We have neither glasses nor bottled water” Eyvor replies. She obviously has no idea why Katia would want water rather than this delicious mead, and after tasting it, you have to agree. It is good. “But if you are that thirsty, the water in any of the streams around here is perfectly drinkable.” Eyvor then points Katia in the direction of the closest water stream, a small creek which eventually joins the white river.

Katia tells you she’ll fill your water bags while she’s there, you say fine, that sounds good. You’re just going to stay here and sample the local cuisine. Off she goes. She’ll manage. There’s no reason why you should follow her. She can see way better than you in this darkness. Still, there’s this nagging feeling in your head that you should keep an eye on Katia, make sure she’s okay. You ignore that feeling, she’s stronger than she was when you first met, and the frequency of her fuckups has significantly decreased. Did you mention this mead is delicious? You pour yourself another cup, and continue listening to the stories the Nords are telling around the fire. This will be great material for your book. Hmm… This mead even seems stronger than what you’re used to. Just one more cup.

---

3.

(You are now the Khajiit)

Your feet are killing you. It feels like after weeks of walking you should have improved, but for every extra hour you can walk in a day Quill-Weave just wants you to go on for another hour, and her pace is just inhuman… Well she isn’t a human... inargonian? That doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s some weird Hist thing. Or you just have some catching up to do before you reach her crazy parkour skills. Anyway... The stream wasn’t supposed to be far, with your Night-Eye it shouldn’t be too hard to find it.

You’re a bit disappointed that Quill-Weave just sat down and started drinking with the Nords. Sure, you are the one with the alcohol problem, and that shouldn’t stop her from enjoying it. Other people can drink responsibly or at least without blacking out from a single drink, but you can’t. And you know you can’t stay around while they’re drinking and having fun, when you know that if you have just one small sip of that magic mead, you too would have so, so much fun. It’s a temptation you’ve fallen for before, and now is not the time to risk it. You have noticed Quill-Weave doesn’t miss any chance to partake in the local beverages whenever you have stopped at an inn. It seems a bit strange though, she’s a successful writer, she doesn’t have any terrible nightmares, and no unwanted memories to forget (well, none that you know of), so why would she feel the need to drink like she does? On the other hand, an amount of alcohol that could knock a Nord out might still just make her mildly inebriated thanks to the Argonians impressive tolerance of toxins.

As you walk through the black forest, lost in thought, you soon start to wonder if you’ve passed the stream already. It was supposed to be close right? You just followed the downwards slope, since even you can figure out that a creek should be running through the bottom of a valley. Secunda is shining bright in the cloudless sky this night, and between the trees the ground is covered by patches of snow and ice, lighting up the landscape. Even a human would have no problem finding her way here. So you keep going, thinking that it can’t be far until you find the stream. You can feel the temperature dropping now. Earlier in the day the snow had been wet and mushy, but now it’s frozen solid and carries your weight while you walk over it. You no longer feel the pain in your feet. It’s as if everything has grown cold, still and quiet. Through the treetops you see streaks of green and red light moving slowly in the sky, appearing, changing and then disappearing. The light is amplified by your darkness adapted eyes into a chorus of twirling colors. You lose all track of how long you’ve been walking, the beauty and serenity of the world around you is just mesmerizing. You keep going, the only sounds in the world are the creaking of your feet on the snow. Eventually another sound grows stronger. You don’t know how long it’s been there, but suddenly it’s clear. A rippling sound that must be running water. You move towards it. Far away between the trees, you see a light. Like a moth you are drawn towards it, and the sound grows stronger.

---

4.

(You are now the Argonian)

You open your eyes. You blink a few times… You don’t remember your bed being this hard, or your house this cold... A moment later your brain catches up and you remember where you are and what happened yesterday. Well most of it... Shit. You look around - this isn’t your tent - and the heavy furs covering your body are definitely the kind the Nords use. There is enough light coming through the tent fabric to tell you that it’s early morning now. You have to get up and get ready before the Nords leave without you. You decide to sit up but nothing happens. Hmm… You try again. Your limbs fail to respond. Shit, shit, shit. Most Argonians manage to deal with cold climates, but you guess your body hasn’t had the time to adapt or just been too occupied with metabolizing alcohol to worry about keeping warm. You can turn your head, and wiggle your arms around a bit, but the furs on top of you feel like they weigh a ton. A slight panicky feeling starts creeping up on you and your heart starts beating faster. You almost scream for help, but that would just be way too embarrassing. Instead you start frenetically wriggling around until you successfully free your arms. Some strength starts to return to your muscles, but your hands are just barely able to grip the furs and peel them off, one by one. When you’re finally free you stand up and only with the help of your tail do you stay upright. In your drunken state last night you must not have considered the cold much of a problem, since you apparently decided to sleep in your underwear. You find your clothes in a crumpled mess in a corner. They’re frozen stiff, a bit like how you’re feeling, but you manage to put them on anyway. Right now you really envy Katia’s fur. Where is she anyway? Did she manage to put up the tent you had brought by herself last night? After getting your boots on you step outside.

The cool air greets you. The first rays of the sun have begun touching the treetops, so you probably don’t have that much time before you need to leave. But first things first, you need to sit by a fire until your body temperature is no longer that of a corpse. You shamble towards the fireplace from yesterday, where the Nords have got a decent fire burning and someone's currently cooking something. You see some others up and about the camp, working with different wood-related things. You recognise the person sitting by the fire as Eyvor. You don’t really feel like talking to anyone, but you want to find out what happened yesterday, preferably without admitting you don’t remember. Judging by your headache you must have had at least a couple more drinks after the ones you do remember. You stumble over the logs around the fire with none of your normal acrobatic grace, and sit down right next to it, trying to get as close as possible without catching fire. Eyvor tells you good morning. You tell her you don’t see what’s so great about it. She fills a mug from the cast iron kettle hanging over the fireplace and hands it to you. It’s pine needle tea, which turns out to be much better than it sounds like.

“So… How much do I owe you for those… five..? mugs of mead yesterday?” you ask.

“Seven,” Eyvor replies. A big grin appears on her face.

“Oh. Right.” You feel you might be blowing this already.

“The drinks were on me,” Eyvor continues. “The crew deserved some celebration now that we finished this latest shipment. And they were all very impressed with you keeping up with them. You still standing up after that last one? That really earned their respect.”

“And about the tent I... borrowed?” The hesitation in your voice was probably pretty obvious.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Eyvor’s smile widens. “That’s alright, I expected as much. It was my tent you were sleeping in.”

“I… see. So uhm… I hope I didn’t inconvenience you. Did you use a different tent or..?”

“No! I slept right there with you, I think you said something about needing to stay close to a warm-blooded body and then you just barged into the tent after me.” She seemed very amused at all of this.

You’re happy your flushing isn’t very visible on your argonian skin, but you can tell Eyvor is well aware of your embarrassment. You say you’re sorry, but she doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. This situation seems awfully familiar to you, but you prefered last time when you were on the other side of things. You decide it’s best to change the subject and not dig any deeper.

“Do you perhaps know where Katia is? I haven’t seen her or our tent since I woke up,” you ask Eyvor.

“Your friend? No… Now that you mention it I don’t remember seeing her after she left to get water.” For a second Eyvor’s expression changes to a worried look. Your heart suddenly sinks like a stone. Fuck. You might have messed up bad this time, if you had just stayed with Katia... Eyvor seems to understand the situation.

“I’m sure she’s around here,” she says trying to sound reassuring. “You should ask the others if they’ve seen her, and look around if she’s just set up your tent somewhere around the outskirts of the camp. I’ll go and see if I can find her tracks from yesterday, I at least know the direction she went.”

Eyvor gets up and heads towards the forest. You decide to take her advice and start looking around. You already felt guilty enough knowing the dangers Katia went through just to deliver that letter for you in Kvatch. You really don’t know if you could forgive yourself if she had gotten lost, hurt or worse right now.

---

5.

(You are now the Nord)

Figures. Not even on the river yet but the passengers are already causing trouble.

As planned you had gotten up before dawn and started packing the final things needed for the trip. Before anyone else had even woken up you had left the camp on your horse. You had made the round trip to the river and back in about an hour, and now that you got back - expecting the rest of the crew and passengers to be ready - it turns out the camp is just even more chaotic than usual.

You see the Argonian pacing around aimlessly as if searching for something, but not knowing where to look. Eyvor is nowhere in sight. The other few men who are up look like shit, as if they’d rather be dead than being awake right now. It’s a shame restoration magic is nearly useless on hangovers. You walk up to Erika who looks to be in better condition than the rest, and ask what in Oblivion is going on. She says Katia is missing since last night. Who? you ask. The Khajiit girl she says. Your palm hits your forehead and you groan loudly. Basic communication skills, that is all you need to not end up in this situation, and waste the entire morning.

The Argonian has noticed you and is coming over. You ask Erika to remind you what her name was. Quill-Weave she responds, while giving you a look that’s probably saying “you should at least have tried to remember their names”. Quill-Weave huh… She must have been named for her porcupine dodging abilities.

As she gets close you are surprised to see a very worried expression on her face. You’re not surprised about her feeling worried - that’s understandable - but rather that you can actually identify the emotion on her very reptilian facial anatomy.

“Hey! Nord boss guy! You’re not leaving without us are you?” Quill-Weave asks. Nord boss guy? You stop feeling bad about not remembering her name.

“If you don’t start packing right now I might,” you say only half jokingly.

“Wait, didn’t you hear? My friend is missing! I can’t just leave without knowing where she is, I mean she’s disappeared before but she usually shows up in my bed by morning…” Quill-Weave looks genuinely upset.

“In your bed? Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Besides, I know where she is.”

“You found Katia? How badly wounded is she? Is she… alive?” You can see her thoughts going to increasingly dark places.

“No need to worry, she’s completely unharmed,” you say reassuringly. “And in better shape than you by the looks of it.”

“What. Really? She at least lost her clothes right?” She looks more confused than relieved at the news. This Argonian and her friend seem like very strange people, but you're not going to question that right now. Daylight’s burning, and you need to start moving.

“I met Katia not an hour ago, she's already down by the river with my man Halvar, and ready to go. It’s you we’re waiting for.”

“Oh. This is slightly embarrassing. I guess there's a first for everything. I even told Eyvor to go look for her. Let me just get my bags and I’ll follow you there.”

“Great.” You turn in the direction of the river, cup your hands around your mouth, and shout: EYVOOOR!

Quill-Weave puts her hands over her ears and looks at you with astonishment.

“Was that a Thu’um?”

“A what?” you reply.

“A dragon shout, you know, like in the old Nord stories.”

“Aha, I’m not a big fan of fantasy, and no, that was just a completely non-magical form of long distance communication.” You can’t tell if she appreciated your irony.

“I see…” There's an awkward pause, then she continues: “Well I’m getting our stuff now,” and she goes back the way she came. You turn to Erika to see if she needs any help. Hopefully all the problems are sorted now. The time when you're on land is supposed to be the easy part of the job, once out on the river when things go bad, they can go really bad. At least you don’t see how these strange passengers could possibly mess up sitting still on a raft.

--- (end of chapter 5)