Thunder Shroud Chapter 3

Edited by: Marethyu, Priapus

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My journey to Whiterun has been relatively quiet, which I’m very thankful for after seeing the behemoth that is Alduin. A scare like that doesn’t need to be followed with a bandit attack or two. That big bastard looked nothing like in the games.

My Danger Sense didn’t even try to tell me to escape once I saw him. It made me feel like I should just give up, curl up in a ball, and let him eat me. I’m lucky that he just didn’t seem to care about doing that. I guess he’s too busy going around Skyrim reviving his minions to give a shit about some guy on the road.

The idea that the Dragonborn is destined to destroy him is mad. How can a man or woman defeat what amounts to a god? Sure, they have the soul of a dragon, but Alduin is the eldest and strongest by far. Three ancient Nord heroes got their asses handed to them, even with Dragonrend in their arsenal. They had to use one of the most powerful artifacts— the namesake of this game series— just to send him forward in time. 

Inadvertently making him our problem.

And to think that there might be a chance that it’s my responsibility to do it is just… what the hell am I supposed to do? I was not even some kind of warrior before I got here— I lived in a cushy, safe world with barely any strife in my life. I’m gonna get this world destroyed.

Or, well, conquered, I guess? From what I remember, Alduin doesn’t even want to devour the world like he should. He wants to dominate it, thus straying away from his destiny and causing Akatosh to send down the Last Dragonborn to punish him.

You know, it’s good that I can still remember a lot of the lore. I can use that to my advantage and get a head start. Like, say, kill Mercer in his sleep if I feel like joining the Thieves Guild. Then I can take the Skeleton Key off him, mess around with it for a bit, and return it to Nocturnal for a quick favor with a Daedric Prince.

Yes, I have no problem helping demonic gods of unfathomable might if it will get me to stay alive longer. To be honest, a few of them aren’t even that bad. Granted, most of them are — one of them is titled The King of Rape, for fuck’s sake — but Sanguine, Nocturnal, and Azura are alright in my book. Relatively speaking.

But I digress. Trying to kill Mercer or steal the Skeleton Key from him isn’t going to be easy. I’m barely qualified to be considered a fighter— he’d beat my ass hard. If I had so much trouble killing a bear and a couple of Draugr, I stand no chance.

That’s assuming I can get to him before he fucks off to nowhere with the Eyes of the Falmer. Some quests aren’t just going to wait for me. And with the Dragonborn — assuming it’s not me — too busy with the main quest, I think I’m pretty much forced to cover for the other world-ending events. Primarily the Dawnguard questline and the Eye of Magnus with that Thalmor asshole trying to unmake the world.

…I have a lot of work cut out for me. A billion responsibilities thrust into my lap just like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love a good adventure. It's way more exciting than living in that dull, safe world. But not when the world is at stake.

Can you just send me home, Selene?

I’m afraid I can’t do that.

“Of course not…” I sigh, making my way to Whiterun’s front gate.

I take a moment to absorb the views, and as I expected, Whiterun Hold still stands as the best region in all of Skyrim, even in reality. The sun sets over the vast, open tundra surrounding the city, extending as far as the eye can see with no trees obscuring the view and whatever kind of evil this universe can produce.

Also, it’s a bit warmer than where I was, so that’s an automatic plus.

The city itself is about ten times larger than it was in the game—probably even more than that, if I’m being honest. I know the game had to scale everything down due to engine limitations and the like, but wow. The difference is downright incomprehensible.

Frankly, this entire situation is. But despite my earlier moaning and whining about responsibilities and whatever, seeing it right in front of me like this makes me feel genuinely excited. This is real.

As I make it to the gate, one of the guards with an open helmet approaches me.

“Halt!” He says firmly. “What are you here for, Traveler?”

“I’m a mercenary looking for work,” I respond. “I come from Eastmarch.”

He takes a moment to study me before nodding.

“You’re our favorite kind of traveler.” He says, gesturing for his fellow guard to open the gate. “Don’t you go around causing any trouble, alright?”

That was pretty easy. I guess that’s the work of my Silver Tongue perk, huh?

I nod back in acknowledgment and walk inside, amazed by how massive Whiterun is on the inside as well.

There are a few things I’m quickly able to recognize, mainly the blacksmith on the right side as soon as you enter being the same. Still, instead of the usual six buildings or something next to the front gate, there are countless homes and shops all over the plains district, with about five-meter wide gravel roads and smaller stands leading all the way to the central plaza where the rest of the bigger stores reside.

There are also hundreds of people. Hundreds in this section of a district. The city is packed with civilians, not just the three Redguards and seven Nords you’d see in the game. There are Elves, Argonians, Orcs— all types of flavors.

Except Khajits. Because nobody in Skyrim likes cat people, apparently.

I take a deep breath, finally feeling safe for the first time since I got into this world. Right, my first course of action should be getting a room because my feet are fucking killing me. I never stopped for rest on the way because I was scared I’d get jumped by something.

As I walk through the crowd, I quickly notice several inns and taverns, but it’d be wrong of me to get into any of them. It needs to be the specific one from the game, or I’ll feel like I’ve committed sacrilege.

I also spot an interesting notice board on the way. Yeah, that makes sense. It would be weird if you only got bounty quests from the Jarl’s steward. Putting a board for civilians to post about odd jobs in public like this would be best.

I guess that would be my way of making money. Or until I find a better way.

With that in mind, I arrive at the Bannered Mare, open the door, and, yet again, am very surprised by how spacious it is on the inside. Surprisingly, I also recognize a few faces from the game among the several strangers I’ve never seen before. The heavily armored lady you brawl to get as a follower, the tavern owner, and the Redguard woman with a quest.

I don’t think that’s gonna get old any time soon.

“Welcome, Traveler.” The tavern keeper smiles at me from behind the counter as I approach her. “Would you like to eat something? Or have a drink?”

After looking at the prices, I respond, sitting on the stool in front of the counter. 

“Your dinner plate with some mead and water sounds good,” I say. 

“Coming right up.”

“And how much for a room?” I quickly ask.

“It depends.” She responds. “For how long are you staying?”

…I haven’t thought that far ahead. Am I gonna spend most of my days here in Whiterun? I’d love to, but I’d also love to level up as fast as I can, meaning I’ll have to finish up a few of those board quests tomorrow. At the same time, I’m not sure where some of those same quests are going to take me. Are they inside the city? Far from it? Am I gonna be forced to camp outside?

…I think I’m just going to take the safe bet for now.

“One night.”

“That’ll be twenty-five coins.”

That’s about a quarter of what I have, not including the meal and drinks.

I take my gold pouch off my belt and give her the needed amount.

“Thank you.” Her smile widens as she hands me a key. “Here’s the key to your room. It’s the first one to your right on the second floor.”

I pocket the key while the tavern keeper goes to the kitchen. I rub my eyes tiredly, drowning out the noises of the other patrons as I try to focus on something else. I know the first thing I should be doing is to earn a living, but then what? If I were Dragonborn, then my course of action would be pretty obvious, as much as I’d hate to be that. 

But if I’m not, what’s next? Should I deal with the college questline first or the Dawnguard? The college and, by extension, the Eye of Magnus should be the more straightforward thing to deal with because that Thalmor dumbass is not on the same level as a Vampire Lord that has probably been alive since the first era.

Not to mention his entire faction of very old and powerful vampires. Also, Ancano, or whatever his name was, can be dealt with by stabbing him in the heart like most other mortal enemies. But if I want to stand a chance against Harkon, I’ll have to get Auriel’s Bow. Maybe it’s not an outright requirement, but I sure as fuck need it.

On the other hand, Serana.

I don’t think that needs any explanation.

Plus, getting the bow won’t be that hard, now that I think about it. I can skip about 90% of the DLC because I already know where it is—no need to get any Elder Scroll or Moth Priest.

“Here’s what you ordered.” The tavern keeper says as she puts a plate of roasted meat, vegetables, and a piece of bread on the counter in front of me, alongside a bottle of mead and a glass of water. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

Before I take a bite, the tavern keeper speaks.

“So, Traveler. Care to tell where you’re from?” She asks, making me blink. “I’ve not seen someone like you before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you came in, I thought you were a fellow Nord. Pale complexion, blond hair. The usual.” She clarifies. “But then I got a closer look at you. Purple eyes? I’ve never seen that before. You’re most definitely not a Nord.”

“Ah…”

How am I supposed to answer that? I don’t think she knows where ‘Earth’ is. And the Raiju stuff would make me sound just as crazy to the common folk.

“I’m actually a Nord. Though I was born in the imperial city.” I lie. “As for the purple eyes thing? I was hunting down a rogue mage across the province up until I cornered him in the Jerall Mountains. Bastard cast a weird spell on me before I gutted him with my blade, and I’ve been like this ever since.”

I pause at how easily I told that lie, in awe at how effortless that was. It came out naturally as if that was what actually happened. What the hell? Since when could I lie this good? Is this from the Silver Tongue thing?

That is going to be very helpful.

“Ah, a mercenary.” Her eyes light up. “And what brings you to Skyrim?”

“Oh, I thought I’d visit my homeland.” I shrug. “See if maybe there’s work to be done here. Can’t say I’m ever getting used to the cold, though.”

“Despite being a Nord.” She chuckles before her expression drops. “To tell the truth, Traveler, you came to Skyrim at a bad time with the civil war going on. And these rumors of dragons? World’s going mad.”

Yeah…

“To me, that sounds like more opportunities,” I say, showing bravado. “Slaying a dragon would look great on my record.”

“That’s quite brave.” She responds. “Not many warriors have the heart to face a dragon in battle.”

“For good reason. Dragons are scary.” Scarier than she can imagine. “But you know what they say. If I die, then Sovengarde awaits.”

Even if I end up going there when I die, until he’s defeated, Alduin will be there waiting for me and consume my soul, so not even Nord heaven is that heavenly.

So, once again, to avoid dying, level-up is my top priority.

“Spoken like a true Nord.” She gives me a smile. “You’ll fit right in with your fellow kin. Though, you’re definitely far more polite than these rude sons of bitches.”

As soon as she finishes that sentence, one of the patrons yells for her very loudly.

“Hulda! Get me another pint of Ale!” He demands obnoxiously. “And move it! I haven’t got all day!”

“Oh, pipe down, you oaf!” She scowls. “I’ll move when I decide to move!”

The tavern keeper, now I know called Hulda, looks at me after a tired sigh before smiling again.

“I’ll leave you to your meal.” She tells me as she moves away from the counter. “Divines bless you.”

With that, Hulda leaves me alone. And as I dig into the food, I continue thinking to myself.

Hmm…

Hey, Selene. You haven’t explained much about the leveling mechanic of the system. Can you tell me?

Certainly.

Leveling up can be done in three different ways.

One: Clearing dungeons. As I said before, when you clear a dungeon, you’re given EXP based on the difficulty and level of the dungeon.

I remember. I leveled up a few times after killing that necromancer. I assume clearing the dungeon would mean defeating its ‘boss’ monster, so to speak?

Yes. However, keep in mind that eliminating all the monsters and looting every treasure will yield extra EXP to the overall calculation. Having allies does not detract from said calculation.

Got it. What else?

Two: Defeating formidable foes. When an enemy is around your level or higher, defeating them will provide you with EXP; the stronger, the better. However, if an enemy is too weak, beating them will give nothing.

Killing is not a requirement. As long as they’re knocked out or admitted defeat, it’s counted.

That’s good to know. What’s the third way?

Three: Completing quests. Whether you’re told to deliver messages or to kill bandits, this is the best and most diverse way to earn EXP. Naturally, the more complex the quest, the higher the EXP, and you’ll sometimes be rewarded with other things like money, new spells or tools, or, rarely, a new class.

That’s that. I guess going around doing errands tomorrow wouldn’t hurt.

Another thing: Some classes benefit from certain quests more than others. For example, in quests where you’re required to use spells or spend time on magical research, wizard-type classes will be given bonus EXP.

Oh? So if I do the Thieves Guild questline, will all the quests give bonus EXP to my rogue class?

Correct.

That’s cool. It’s more of an incentive to actually play the role and not just use it to gain more skills. On that topic, what would earn bonus EXP from doing the Dawnguard questline?

The [Vampire Hunter] and [Vampire Lord] classes. It depends on the faction you choose.

Right. That makes sense. That might actually push me to complete the questline properly. For the EXP and all that. Can I assume that I’m able to get both classes?

You can.

That’s so silly—a vampire lord vampire hunter.

…Becoming a vampire, huh? That’s certainly an option. It would get rid of my weakness of the cold and give me a lot of awesome abilities on top of enhanced physical power, but I honestly don’t feel like giving my soul to the King of Rape. A part of me thinks he doesn’t discriminate.

I also really like the sun.

As I finish up my meal, I let out a sigh of satisfaction and stretch my arms. For a medieval world, the food isn’t half bad. It’s nothing revolutionary, and I’d kill for a good pizza instead of what I just had, but it’s definitely better than I expected. I can live with this.

The mead is pretty good, though. That’s Nords for you. They probably mastered the art of making mead before the art of killing things, and that’s saying something.

I get off the stool, thinking I should probably go to bed early if I want to get things done tomorrow and head upstairs, but not before bumping into someone by accident. A Nord woman a few inches shorter than me with blue eyes and blond hair styled in a ponytail, wearing light leather armor with a greatsword strapped on her back. A mercenary.

…And a cute one at that.

“Sorry.” She says with a soft tone, even though it was 100% my fault.

It catches me by surprise. Nords are usually hotheaded, and their pride is easily wounded. I can tell she’s a warrior of sorts, too, so the civilian argument wouldn’t work. I’m glad this isn’t turning into a fight, though. She’d probably kick my ass. I can just tell.

“Nah, it’s my fault.” I wave it off. “Let me get out of your way.”

She says nothing, seemingly as surprised as I am, and I leave her to her own devices as I go up the stairs. I open the door to my room and lock it behind me, taking off my armor and putting it to the side with my other stuff, then lie on the bed with a sigh.

I instinctively try to take my phone out of my pocket before remembering that it didn’t make it to this world with me, prompting me to grimace in frustration. Not having a phone is going to take a while to get used to, isn’t it? 

The ultimate utility device of the modern world. Your absence will be felt. Immensely.

Damn it all.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within minutes after waking up, I quickly equip my stuff and head toward the board as soon as I can, wanting to get this over with before other bounty hunters get the easy and/or good-paying stuff. The sun has just risen, so I guess it’s about sixish? I don’t know how time differs in the Elder Scrolls universe, so I’ll just assume it’s that.

And when I make it to the board, I find a few good quests. Primarily, one is about clearing a bandit camp west of here and recovering a family heirloom from them, and the other is about handling a band of witches just around the borders leading to the Reach. It's very close to the first quest.

Am I feeling confident enough to deal with things like this? No, not really. But every other quest is something like ‘deliver this letter to some guy in Solitude’ or ‘fetch me this particular [herb/ingredient/thing?] that you can find somewhere in the Rift’. I’m not doing either of these things despite them being arguably way safer.

Why? Because I guess I’m a lazy piece of shit and would rather tussle with a bunch of bandits than walk to a city. Also, because the pay for the shittier quests is fucking nothing compared to the more difficult ones. I’m not wasting days of my life for two hundred coins.

Besides, longer journeys mean more chances of getting jumped by monsters that can atomize me in seconds. Like, you know, dragons.

I’d rather take the quest that pays over five hundred coins; thank you very much. Also, I asked Selene about it, and it turns out that bandit camps/witch coves/whatever else counts as dungeons, so that’s two birds with one stone.

So, I decide to take the better-paying jobs off the board and head straight to the closest weapon store around. Why the weapon store, considering I already have a sword and a dagger with me? Because I need a bow. Desperately.

No, not because Stealth Archer is the single greatest class in the franchise, even though it totally is, but because I need the range advantage. Picking off bandits one by one from a distance will massively increase my chances of survival. I’ve never used a bow before, but I have a skill that makes me able to use it.

So as I go over to see how much one costs, the store owner rudely reminds me that I am broke as shit.

“Fifty coins for a bow? You’re out of your mind, boy.” He snorted, not one bit impressed. “That little ain’t enough to get you a dagger.”

“Oh, come on, can’t you give me a discount? Call it an investment.”

“An investment?” He raises a brow in amusement.

“See this?” I show him the parchment detailing the bandit quest. “I plan on cleaning up the region a little, and the best way to do that is with an arrow for each of them fuckers.”

“And how does this benefit me?” He asks after reading the notice.

“Simple. I come back, collect the reward, and pay you the rest.” I answer. “Hell, I’ll even throw in an extra hundred coins. What do you say?”

“That I’m the secret child of Ysgramor.” He scoffs without missing a beat, rudely shooing me away. “I’m not gullible. Take your shady ‘offer’ someplace else before I call the guards.”

Alright, asshole. Fuck you, too.

I keep those thoughts to myself, though. Picking fights won’t end well for me. I’m not confident enough to be doing that. I pretend that I’m not beat up over it, even though I’m very annoyed right now.

“Alright. Your loss.” 

I leave the store, frowning to myself as I close the door behind me. I’m not willing to hunt bandits unless I have a ranged option with me, and my Raiju lineage isn’t really reliable right now. The lightning power is pretty strong, and it’ll probably save my life while in close quarters, but I want something safer and from a much longer distance.

How the hell am I gonna get more money? The cheapest bow I could find is three hundred coins. A ‘small’ quiver holds about thirty arrows, and decent arrows are three coins each. That’s about three hundred ninety coins minimum. Not counting the quiver itself.

I need a bow and arrows to do quests, but I can’t get them because I’m broke. And to earn money, I need to do quests, which require a bow and arrow.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

I groan in frustration and a bit of despair, contemplating if I should just end it all before Selene decides to throw her two cents.

Have you considered stealing?

What? Why would you suggest that? Why the hell would I even—

I pause as she brings up a particular skill in my arsenal. Pickpocketing.

Ah… right. Rogue class.

Isn’t that kind of risky, though? Then again, what other choice do I have? Begging? No. Selling my shit? I need the armor and supplies, and I doubt this ancient nordic sword would fetch a decent price. I don’t have anything else to sell…

…Well, crimes it is. I mean, what’s the point of that skill if I never end up using it, right? This is either going to put me in jail or get me killed. And fuck it, I was just thinking about killing myself anyway. Turns out I barely have any willpower.

Since coming here, I’ve discovered many things about myself, none of which have been good.

Please don’t commit suicide.

I’ll try not to.

Quest added

[Beginner Thief]

Objective: Steal enough money to buy yourself a new bow [0/350]

Reward: 250 Coins

Please.

Okay, okay. I won’t. It was just a joke, anyway. Mostly.

With one final and somewhat resigned sigh, I head toward the crowded marketplace— the plaza where many stalls and stores are. I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but the more people around, the easier it is to hide, right? Right. I won’t pretend to be the second coming of the Gray Fox, but that makes sense to me.

Being as careful as I can possibly be, I don’t immediately strike, pretending to be window shopping as I stake out specific targets that look easy to rob. You know, people who have their coin pouches in places that are easy to snatch, old ladies who probably aren’t quick to react, that kind of thing. If this was Riften, I imagine people would be a lot more guarded. I’m glad that’s not the case here because I’ve already found a lot of targets in just about fifteen minutes of looking.

However, I will say I already feel very bad for what I’m about to do. I’m really not built for this crime thing, man. Why’d you give me a rogue class?

I didn’t. It was random.

I sense something akin to pain in Selene’s response, prompting me to quickly clarify my meaning. I’m not blaming you. I’m just thinking to myself.

Oh. I see.

This time, I sense relief. Heh. She’s kind of cute.

I refocus on my current objective, striking my first victim: a woman in blue chatting with a vegetable stall owner— neither of them noticing me quite literally picking her pocket and taking a tiny bag of coins.

Despite the low amount of twenty coins, I’m in utter disbelief at how easy it felt, almost like something I’ve been doing my entire life. A few quick moves that I never thought I could even pull off resulted in someone else’s hard-earned money in my hands.

I make some distance between myself and the lady in blue, looking at her coin pouch in awe and little bit of concern. And not concern as in me being caught, but because, in a wildly fucked up kind of way, I felt thrilled when I succeeded.

 I mean, I’ve never stolen anything before. I was a law-abiding citizen until today. I thought I’d feel bad for doing something like this, but no. It’s the opposite. Like a tremendous sense of accomplishment washing over me before disappearing just as quickly.

Wow. Okay. What the fuck? Since when was I like this?

I look back at the lady, who is now panicking as she looks around for her pouch everywhere, and even then, I don’t really feel guilty. A bit of pity for her, but remorse? No. None of that. In fact, I feel better seeing her not suspect me at all. This is so fucked up. Jesus.

But hey, I’m doing this ultimately for a good cause, right? She can inadvertently donate to a good cause, right?

…Nah, this is incredibly fucked up. Pretending it isn’t wouldn’t do me any favors. I’d rather own up to it than think I’m the good guy here. Especially seeing that I’m still very willing to continue doing such a thing.

I take another deep breath and hide the pouch in my pocket, feeling the anticipation rising each time I think about stealing something. Yeah, I’ve just awoken something, and I don’t think it’s ever going to disappear.

So like the moron I am, I start chasing that high, stealing more and more money from the civilians. From coins to jewelry to whatever tiny but valuable things I can take. Each time, getting more and more reckless with my targets as, the more I do this, the better my ‘senses’ get regarding the value of whatever’s inside the victim’s pockets.

It is almost like the treasure-sensing thing is working on civilians, searching for their best treasures. And for the most part, it works like a charm every time, helping me surpass the needed amount to get a bow in merely ten or so minutes. With how large the marketplace is, nobody notices the few mini heists that have been happening.

…And I don’t stop. I keep taking more and more, knowing I should probably back off, get my damned bow, and finish up my quest. But stopping isn’t as easy. That incredible feeling is almost impossible to resist. So, despite knowing the risks, I keep falling for its temptation again and again.

…Until someone catches my hand as I try to nab the huge, hanging coin pouch strapped to their side.

That strange high and sense of accomplishment vanish in an instant, replaced by a mix of panic and regret. My heart drops to my stomach as I look up at who caught me— a huge guy in heavy armor and a claymore, coldly glaring at me like I’m nothing but a pest.

I don’t even get a peep out before this guy pulls me closer and delivers the hardest punch I’ve ever felt in my life, sending me crashing through a stall, falling my back, and letting out a pained groan. Surprisingly, I’m still conscious. Unsurprisingly, I can’t feel my nose, and I’m starting to black out.

The crowd begins dispersing and making distance as they look at the scene in shock. The black-haired Nord that hit me approaches me very menacingly, prompting me to get up on my feet, stumbling a little as I gather my bearings.

I stare at the guy while wiping the blood off my nose, planning my next move very carefully. Miraculously, I’m not panicking. I’m fucking terrified for my life, but I can think relatively clearly.

Alright, my dumbassery got me in this situation. How the hell am I supposed to get out of this? I can beg for mercy or run away. Former sounds like a shitty idea because I doubt a proud Nord would show any mercy for someone so pathetic. Running away sounds great, but then I’d have to say goodbye to Whiterun. I don’t want to do that.

Fighting back is also an option, but I’m going to fucking die if I do that. Even if I end up winning, which I highly doubt would ever fucking happen in this state I’m in, what the hell am I supposed to do about the city guards?

As I try to think of solutions, I notice the bag in my hand and realize that I have successfully stolen it. Well, would you look at that?

As the Nord grabs the giant sword strapped on his back, I speak.

“Hey, tell ya what?” I display a brave face, dangling the pouch in front of him as I try my best not to show any fear. “You’re up for a challenge?”

He blinks and nods, just as confused as I am. Yeah, I don’t know what I’m doing either.

“How about a plain, honest brawl? If I win, I get to keep this,” I say. “If you win, I give it back and everything I have. What do you say?”

The Nord looks at me, his confusion turning into interest. He then turns around to look at someone in the crowd, who gives him a nod. He then turns to look at me, relaxes his grip on his weapon, and starts to take his gauntlets and chest armor off.

It fucking worked? Actually, no. I’m not going to question it.

He leaves his gear to the guy who gave him the OK before getting into some kind of martial arts position.

“Hit me.” He says.

“What?”

“I said hit me.” He repeats. “Won’t be fair otherwise.”

He points at his own nose as a response, referring to his first hit that broke mine. Nords and their code of honor, man. Some of them are fucking idiots, but it works in my favor, so I won’t complain.

“Alright.” I raise my fist and get into my own sloppy stance.

Knowing I have to make the most of it, I hit the Nord as hard as I can, in surprise at my monstrous strength, as I knock him back several steps, drawing blood from a single hit. Why am I so surprised? Because from what I know, they’re the strongest race physically. And a warrior at that?

True to that thought, as soon as he’s hit, he recovers just as quickly, wiping the blood off his nose and giving me a grin.

The crowd watches in anticipation as we circle around each other, prompting me to realize that the guards aren’t interfering for some reason. In fact, they seem just as excited about this brawl as the rest of the civilians. You know what? This works for me, too.

As my opponent charges in first, my Danger Sense kicks in and helps me avoid a hook, weaving under it before instinctively responding with my own quick jab, striking him in the face, making me recognize my superior speed. It’s not gonna make me win this, but I won’t know until I try.

The brawl continues with me playing the defensive as my opponent does the opposite, swinging his fists as aggressively as he can. Despite me being faster, he’s no slouch. He’s scary quick on his feet and generally better trained, as basically anyone here can tell. And I’m not gonna lie: Danger Sense is doing all of the heavy lifting here.

I sidestep from his jab, kicking him in the side before weaving under another hook and responding with an uppercut, forcing him to back off slightly. I use this small window to hit him with a flurry of punches to his face, but the Nord immediately recovers after no more than three hits, blocking the rest with his arms.

He then throws another jab, which I step back from and avoid by an inch, making my breath hitch. That was scary close.

I take another deep breath, ignoring the crowd’s cheers and boos, while the Nord looks at me with a strangely contemplative look. Before suddenly charging in again, not giving me another chance to breathe properly. Because I’m getting really gassed while he’s barely showing a hint of exhaustion.

I do my best to dodge his relentless onslaught, gritting my teeth as I try to look for an opening. Which I do find, but when I try to capitalize on it, I notice the feint far too late, and I’m hit by a devastating gut check that leaves me reeling.

I gasp for air as my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. This moment of weakness basically costs me the entire brawl as the Nord lands another punch to the face, then another body shot—a hook, uppercut, jab— all of them landing one by one.

Even then, despite me accepting this loss before the match even began, a part of me didn’t want to lose. And it’s not about the idea of me losing my money — even though that’s pretty bad too — it’s just this sense of pride I never thought I even had.

So I try to delay the inevitable, and as I’m pushed to a corner, bleeding heavily from my mouth and nose, I focus on my Danger Sense as hard as I can. Despite being seconds away from losing consciousness, I manage to avoid his finishing blow, putting my all into my counter, smashing my fist into his face, and ultimately breaking his combo.

I pant heavily as the Nord is knocked away a few paces, glaring at him as he looks surprised. I put my fists back up, my legs shaking uncontrollably as my vision begins to darken gradually.

“You fight good, thief.” He compliments, his grin returning. “But I win this time. Put your hands down.”

“I didn’t hear no fuckin’ bell,” I growl and spit out a broken tooth, surprising myself. “Come at me.”

The Nord looks a bit confused at my choice of words before shrugging and raising his fists, accepting my demand to continue the fight. I should’ve probably just taken his advice and accepted my loss. I can’t win like this— I can barely think.

As he charges in for the final blow, I brace myself for a painful knockout at best and a stupid death at worst before someone else catches his punch. With how swollen my face is and how hard it is to see, I can’t make out who it is until they speak.

“Do you want to take his head off?” The mercenary lady from last night says. “He’s beaten. That’s quite enough, isn’t it?”

The Nord blinks.

“He said he wanted to continue.” He points out. “Ignoring his wishes and walking away would dishonor him.”

“He can recover his honor.” She responds. “He can’t recover from death.”

My opponent pauses for a moment, unsure of what to do, until someone from the crowd calls for him.

“The woman is right, Farkas.” He agrees. “Leave him be. You’ve already taught him a lesson.”

I lower my arms and let out a long and winded exhale, trying my best to remain conscious as I process what I just heard. Farkas? Did I pick a fight with a fucking companion? No wonder the guards didn’t intervene. He’s basically a guard, too. If not at a higher status.

Farkas grunts and pulls his hand away, giving the mercenary lady a nod. He then goes to pick up his gear before walking away.

“W-wait…” I stop him with a pant. “You forgot your money.”

I don’t know what possessed me to say that, but I’d rather remind him myself than have someone in the crowd do it.

“You’ve earned my respect. You can keep it.” He says, surprising me greatly. “…You’re strong. You should ditch being a thief and come to Jorrvaskr.”

With that invite, Farkas follows who I assume is Vilkas, heading back to their mead hall. As the crowd disperses, everyone returning to their shopping, I lean back on one of the store beams and continue breathing heavily.

…Mission accomplished, I guess. Fuck me, that was bad.

“How do you feel?” The mercenary lady suddenly asks, standing next to me.

“Annoyed,” I answer, rubbing my eyes. “Look, I’m really grateful for you saving my ass, but a part of me hates what you just did. No offense.”

Call me whatever, but being saved by a girl is kind of embarrassing. Though the fact that she just fucking blocked his punch like that reminds me that she’s a Nord, so she’s probably a physical powerhouse, too. It does make me feel a little better about myself.

She snorts in amusement before raising her hands to my face, and with her palms open, a golden light begins enveloping them. I stare at this phenomenon in confusion before I feel the pain in my face going away as all the wounds begin healing. My busted lips, broken teeth, swelled cheeks— gone in seconds.

“Oh…” I blink, looking at her in shock. “Wow. Thanks.”

“You can thank me by not being a pickpocket and getting yourself in trouble.” She states in an almost scolding tone before giving me a small smile. “But you’re welcome.”

Yeah, not gonna happen.

“I’ll be off now.” She says. “I have important errands to do.”

With that, she just walks away. Though, after all that, color me interested.

“You haven’t told me your name,” I ask before she’s out of earshot. “I’m Raiden, by the way.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “That’s quite an odd name.”

“I’ve been told.”

“I-I mean no disrespect, of course.” She quickly says after hearing my terse response. She then clears her throat awkwardly. “Well, Raiden, my name is Cerasel. Pleased to meet you.”

“Cerasel?” I raise a brow. “Doesn’t sound very nordic.”

“My mother is an Imperial. She named me,” Cerasel responds before turning around and walking toward the main gate. “See you around.”

As I watch her until she’s out of sight, I exhale and look at how much gold I’ve made. Farkas’ pouch alone has a little under two hundred coins. And with how much I’ve already gathered, I have more than enough.

Here’s hoping I don’t die. But after that fight, I feel a little more confident in my abilities.

If I can survive a brawl with a goddamn werewolf— and a companion on top of that —then I can handle a group of bandits.

…I think.