As the sun rose from behind the horizon, covering the city in its golden rays, the city itself slowly but surely began to wake. People of all kinds took to the streets to start their daily responsibilities. The clerks and shopkeepers were preparing to open their shops, while marketers were setting up their market stands, bringing fresh produce to sell. Bakers were already putting the just baked bread into baskets to display, and butchers and fishers were gutting the animals and preparing the meat to be used. And amidst all this, one could hear a distinctive sound, a specific clank that had repeated itself in regular intervals over and over again. The source of that sound was a young dark elf, bashing and smashing his hammer onto the heated-up piece of metal. He was tall, for a Dunmer, with a muscular figure, blood red eyes and dark brown hair. The piece of metal shone with a bright orange colour, sitting between the hammer and the anvil. As the street basked in the morning sun, the rest of the town woke up, bringing business to the entrepreneurs.

The young man stood under a thatched roof, his whole smithy located also underneath it, next to a modest house, adjacent to the smithy. The house was built like any other house in Mournhold – a mixture of mud and volcanic rock with small windows. It had one floor and an attic, indicating a high living standard of the inhabitant – which was to be expected. A smith would always find business and demand for his craft. As the young elf was hammering away, a person approached him. He looked up from his anvil to see his potential customer. It was a big, burly Nord with a rich beard and a huge twohanded axe in his hands. He looked around the smithy with his blue eyes, as if searching for something. Then he eyed the elf, who was much smaller than him.

“Hey, you. Good morning. Are you the smith here?” asked the Nord nonchalantly. The elf was confused – who else could he be?

“Yes, I am. Vadrys Daryl, at your service.” He said, reaching his hand out for a handshake. The Nord was taken aback a bit.

“Brunwulf Cruel-Sea.” He mumbled as he took the outstretched hand. “I need my axe sharpened. Think you could do that?” he asked, pointing at the axe. Vadrys examined the axe with his eyes. It sure looked like a good piece of work. Perhaps even custom made. He smiled.

“It’s very well made. Does she have a name?” asked Vadrys. Brunwulf smiled widely. “Of course she does. Her name is ‘The Elf-splitter.’” Answered Brunwulf enthusiastically. Vadrys looked him in the eye with a concerning expression. Brunwulf realized what he said and quickly corrected himself. “Don’t worry, I mean them yellow skinned ones. Killed a lot of those when I served in the Legion. Nothing against your kind.” Said Brunwulf. A Legion veteran thought Vadrys to himself.

“You served in the Legion? You must have a lot of experience. What are you doing here then?” asked Vadrys with an interest.

“Army work just wasn’t for me anymore. After the Red Mountain erupted, I thought I could find some work here, crisis and all that. And I heard trouble was brewing here, south of Mournhold, so I came.” Answered Brunwulf. Vadrys has heard about these troubles.

“I heard about it too. Something to do with Argonians conducting skirmishes along the border,” said Vadrys. Nothing new in that, though, added Vadrys, but only in his head. They have always meant only trouble.

“Then I suppose you’ll head south soon? To kill some lizards?” said Vadrys with a tone of sarcasm. Brunwulf laughed. “I will. But I’ll stay for a while – picked up some contract in the local Fighters guild. Some guard duty at some shop or something – I forgot. But whatever, that doesn’t matter. I need that axe sharpened in case something happens.” Said Brunwulf, giving the axe to Vadrys. Vadrys took the axe and examined it more closely. It really was a beautiful piece of work. On its hilt was something engraved in the ancient dragon tongue – a common thing most Nords did with their weapons. Vadrys realized that the engraving must mean “The Elf-splitter” or something similar which could be expressed in the dragon tongue, considering the axe’s name IS The Elf-splitter. Vadrys looked the axe over, then he put it carefully on a table next to him.

“I’ll be done with it at noon. You can come for it then. I take half the pay upfront, if you don’t mind.” Said Vadrys in a business-like tone. Brunwulf smiled. “No problem, my friend.” He said as he gave Vadrys a pouch, filled presumably with septims. “You can take the whole payment upfront. I believe you.”

As he said that, he turned around and left Vadrys to continue his work.

---

The day continued on like any other. Many different customers came – some to buy already smithed tools or weapons, some to place an order and some only looked around without inquiring for any service. As the noon closed in, Vadrys was finishing the forging for a hoe. Once he removed it from the freezing water, he put it with great effort onto a wooden handle and a new farming tool was born. As he completed that, he took Brunwulf’s axe and began the process of sharpening, being extremely careful to treat the weapon well and with respect such a piece demanded. He slowly and delicately treaded the blade over his grindstone, each and every nook and cranny being sharpened the exact same way and for the exact same time, so the whole blade is sharp and strong.

“I see master smith is hard at work. How does it look? Are you finished with my axe?” said a voice behind Vadrys. He recognized it immediately. Standing up from the grindstone, he answered. “Yes, it is. I just need to polish it a bit – shouldn’t take more than a minute.” Then he took a rag he had around and cleaned the blade with it. When he was done, the blade shone brightly like a star.

Brunwulf took the axe and looked it over. His expression gave away his high spirits, the fact that he liked Vadrys’ work very much. He looked back at Vadrys. “My friend, you are a good smith. There is a depth in simple sharpening that many do not know of, but you have exceeded my expectations. You are maybe even better than some of the smiths back in Skyrim.” Said Brunwulf, still with a huge grin on his face. Vadrys felt embarrassed a bit – to be compared to the smithing masters in Skyrim was a big honour. Everyone knew Nords pride themselves with their craft and are only second maybe to Orcs in terms of smithing quality. And to be told he is as good as Nords by a Nord was an appreciation Vadrys have never gotten before. He was glad. “Thank you very much. Happy to serve.” Said Vadrys. Brunwulf looked at him.

“It is noon already. Won’t you be having lunch soon?” asked Brunwulf.

“Yes, I was just thinking of going after I finish your axe.” Answered Vadrys, looking at the now clear skies. It was different just a few months ago.

“Then come with me! I will show you a great tavern I found here. Or Corner Club or whatever you elves call it. My treat, of course.” Said Brunwulf, almost shouting, waving his hands around. Vadrys didn’t really have a reason to reject, so he went with him.

They walked through the Market square east of Vadrys’ smithy, then turned into a side street and went down the road.

“What a great day, huh? Clear skies, sun is shining, an ideal day to drink some mead, don’t you think? There aren’t many days like these in Skyrim, especially in the north,” said Brunwulf, initiating conversation.

“Just a few months ago, days like this were fantastical for us too. Everything was covered in ash – even the sky. Sun was a rarity. Now it’s better here, in the south, but more north you go the more ash is in the air. Vvardenfell is uninhabitable now and will be for quite some time,” commented Vadrys, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Ah yes, right. I almost forgot. Did you witness it with your own eyes?” asked Brunwulf, now with a more serious but interested expression.

“I did. It happened out of nowhere – one day, when I was working at my smithy, suddenly we saw a huge cloud of ash loom over Mournhold. It completely blocked out the sky for a few months. I can’t imagine how it looks further in the north – in Davon’s Watch or Ebonheart. And how it looked. Not even speaking about Vvardenfell – Balmora, Ald’ruhn – every city there was destroyed. I heard Sadrith Mora survived – but how true those rumours are, I can’t say,” said Vadrys with a tone of sadness and desperation in his voice. It sounded like he was personally affected by the event.

“It’s really a shame. I was in Ald’ruhn once, before the Oblivion Crisis – I saw the Skar – it was impressive. Morrowind has really suffered in the last few years. But I believe your fortunes will turn – no one can suffer so much for so long,” said Brunwulf, trying to lighten things up.

“I hope you are right,” chuckled Vadrys. He never thought about it this way. Maybe better times for his people really were just ahead. He pondered over this thought while looking at the clear skies as they arrived to Brunwulfs esteemed corner club. It was called ‘Molten Ash Corner club’ – an unusual name - but Vadrys didn’t recognize it. He didn’t come to this part of the town often. Usually, he went to have lunch to the “East City corner club,” which was near his smithy, only across the square. But since Brunwulf, a Nord, recommended it, he had high expectations. He didn’t believe a Nord would recommend bad food, ever.

They entered the establishment and were met with an exquisite fragrance of cooked meals, burning candles, incense and mainly – sujamma. Vadrys could judge the quality of sujamma based on the smell alone – and he was surprised by how good it smelled. His expectations have skyrocketed.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They sat down at a free table and waited, until someone from the employees came. The club had a nice atmosphere and was apparently very popular – it was almost full. Waitresses ran around taking orders and bringing food and drinks. Bartender was evidently very busy, as he had to constantly pour ale and sujamma. Brunwulf looked around contently, smiling.

“So, what do you think of this place?” asked Brunwulf. Vadrys smiled. “I can’t answer until I try their food and drinks. But they have made quite the impression on me.”

As they talked, a voice called out to them. A nice, crystal clear voice that soothed the ears.

“Hello! Would you like to order something?” asked the voice. When Vadrys and Brunwulf turned around, they saw a young, pretty dark elven waitress in a barmaid outfit trying to wait them. She was young – for a dark elf, at least. Between 40 or 50 years, which was maybe even older than Brunwulf. Vadrys realized how short human lives must be.

“What do you have on menu today, dear?” asked Brunwulf with a smile and in a daring tone. The waitress also smiled.

“Today we have fried guar leg with ash yam porridge and cranberries or kwama egg quiche.” Answered the waitress. Vadrys was immediately decided.

“One Kwama egg quiche, please. And two shots of sujamma. Thanks,” he said without batting an eye. Brunwulf was surprised by his decisiveness.

“I’ll get the fried guar leg then. And a bottle of mead – the Honningbrew one, if you have it,” ordered Brunwulf.

“One Kwama egg quiche and one Fried guar leg. As for drinks, two shots of sujamma and one Honningbrew. Is that all?” asked the waitress, confirming their order. Brunwulf nodded. “Yes, it is. Thank you.”

The waitress then left to report their order at the bar. They sat comfortably at a wooden table, waiting for their order. The drinks came first.

“I was thinking why you ordered two shots,” said Brunwulf, smiling widely, “but to think they were both for you,” he laughed. “Are you a heavy drinker?” continued Brunwulf as he saw Vadrys drank the first shot immediately as the waitress put it on his table. Vadrys groaned and shuddered a bit. “It’s good,” he proclaimed. “Really good.”

“You like that stuff?” asked Brunwulf, sipping his mead from a mug. Vadrys looked him in the eyes. “Yes. I do,” muttered Vadrys. “It reminds me of home,” he continued.

“It’s way too bitter for me,” explained Brunwulf. “I like mead or ale better. Not good with too strong liquors,” he said, taking another sip of mead. “That’s also why I like this place – one of the few ones to serve Honningbrew around here. But I understand. Mead also reminds me of home somewhat. Where are you from, by the way?”

“Vivec City,” said Vadrys. Brunwulf went silent. “There’s always light at the end of the tunnel, isn’t there, my friend?” exclaimed Brunwulf loudly. Vadrys smiled. “What about you?” he shot the question back at Brunwulf.

“I’m from a small hamlet called Old Hroldan. Maybe you heard of it?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

“I did. Didn’t Tiber Septim sleep there or something?” asked Vadrys, obviously not sure. Brunwulfs eyes widened. “You know your lore, friend,” he laughed. “Where have you heard that?”

“I read it in the Guide to the Empire once. I think.” Said Vadrys as he popped the second sujamma shot. Again, that shudder.

“You must be a learned man, if you can read. I can read only barely,” explained Brunwulf.

“I have gotten some education in a temple, yes,” said Vadrys, but didn’t continue further. “They must’ve taught you in the Legion, didn’t they?” again, he redirected the question on Brunwulf.

“Yes, they did. Said that they can’t have an idiot serving in the Legion. As if it wasn’t filled with idiots to begin with,” said Brunwulf and began laughing. Vadrys laughed too.

As they talked, the waitress brought them their food, which they’ve began devouring with gusto. The Kwama egg quiche reminded Vadrys of his time in the High Fane, the biggest and most important Tribunal temple in the whole of Morrowind, located in the heart of Vivec City. Kwama egg quiche was one of the most common dishes on Vvardenfell, as the whole island depended mainly on kwama eggs. But Vivec City is no more, and neither is the Tribunal. Vadrys wasn’t sad – after all, the Temple kicked him out mere months before the Tribunal fell at the hands of the Nerevarine. He didn’t have the dish in some time, so he wanted to taste it once again. It was different from what he remembered, but that’s to be expected. Different regions use different ingredients, but the distinctive taste persisted. As if he was home.

“Do you like guar?” asked Vadrys as he saw Brunwulf ravaging the fried leg as if it was the best food he’s ever eaten. Brunwulf looked up.

“Not particularly. Just like any other meat. Maybe a bit more tender, now that I think about it,” he muttered incoherently, mouth full. Vadrys could only hope that he understood what Brunwulf said. When he finished chewing, he continued. “I was just extremely hungry. Haven’t eaten breakfast, you know? The hunger builds up,” said Brunwulf before taking another bite from the guar leg.

As they finished eating, Brunwulf put ten septims on the table before leaving. Vadrys noticed he left a small tip for the waitress. They left the corner club and entered the bustling streets of Mournhold. This is where they had to separate.

“So, what do you think about the place? Real good, isn’t it?” asked Brunwulf, petting his belly. Vadrys nodded. “It’s a bit out of hand, but I might pay it a visit sometimes. When I’ve got time. The sujamma was really good,” he answered.

Brunwulf frowned. “I don’t understand how you can drink that. Alcohol’s supposed to taste good, not horrible. Have you ever drunk mead?”

“No, I haven’t,” answered Vadrys. He always drank sujamma, sometimes flin. But not mead. Brunwulf smiled gently. “You should try it. It will lighten you up. Not like that bitter sujamma. Oh, but if you do, go for Honningbrew, not that Black-briar piss,” said Brunwulf and patted Vadrys on his back. Then he looked at the sun. “Well then, I have to go. Maybe we’ll meet somewhere again. Farewell, smith.”

“Farewell. And good luck with your contract,” shouted Vadrys at the disappearing Brunwulf. He waved back as he went out of sight. Vadrys turned around and went back to his smithy, thinking about this unusual day.

---

As the evening came, the people were packing up their market stands and closing their shops for the day. The same applied to Vadrys. He tidied up his smithing workshop before taking all his tools and putting them inside of his house. And while the work life was being put to sleep, it was the city’s night life that began to wake, as hundreds of people went in search of some corner clubs and pubs to sit down and have a drink. And Vadrys wasn’t an exception.

Every day after work he headed into the ‘East City corner club’ to meet and drink with his friends and acquaintances. As he entered, he saw them by their usual table, from which they were already waving at him.

“Hey, Vadrys. Come here,” they greeted him as he sat next to them. “Hey man. How’re you doing?” asked one of them, a dark elf with a light brown hair knotted into one big braid. Vadrys stretched his hands above his head and answered. “I’m alright, Ardyn.”

“Good evening, Vadrys,” came the bartender and the owner of this club, Hlaren. The East City corner club was a small establishment and Vadrys and his friends were regulars, and as such they have warm relations with the bartender. Vadrys saw that his friends have already begun drinking.

“Two shots of sujamma, the usual?” asked Hlaren. Vadrys, instead of immediately agreeing, hesitated. “No, not today. Hlaren, do you have mead? Honningbrew one?”

As he said it, everyone around him went silent. Ardyn began talking about calling a medician while the other people were simply surprised, because Vadrys was known for only drinking sujamma. Hlaren frowned.

“I do have few bottles of Honningbrew in my cellar. Bought it once to try it, but nobody wanted to buy them. I can bring you one, if you want,” said Hlaren. Vadrys nodded.

As Hlaren brought the bottle and a mug, Vadrys poured the golden liquor inside. It had a sweet smell, nothing comparable to sujamma. “Bottoms up,” he proclaimed as he took a swing of the mead. The sweetness of the honey together with the bitterness of the alcohol created a strange, unknown taste in his mouth. But it wasn’t half bad. Once he put the mug on the table, he realized he is the target of many questioning gazes.

“Vadrys, when did you began drinking mead?” asked Ardyn. “Did something happen today?”

Vadrys looked into the mug, still brimming with mead. “No, nothing special. Just one Nord customer recommended it to me. So, I tried it,” said Vadrys and taking another sip. It really wasn’t half bad.

As they talked, chattered and drank their liquor, Vadrys asked a question.

“Have you heard about the skirmishes in the south?” he asked. Everyone looked as if deep in thought. One of them, Reynis, who works as a guard, spoke.

“Just recently some refugees came. They told us that they are from Narsis, and that the city got overrun with Argonians. We got no official reports about something like that happening though. But I think it’s alarming to say the least. I got a night shift because of that tomorrow,” he sighed. Ardyn laughed at him.

“Isn’t it strange, though? How is it possible that they would be able to just sweep through a big city like Narsis without anyone reporting it. Weren’t they just some skooma addicts?” asked Ardyn. Reynis shook his head.

“We tested them. They weren’t. It is possible that they were under control of some spell, but that is very unlikely. We just have to treat what they’re telling as truth, and act accordingly,” responded Reynis.

“Actually, the Nord customer I talked about told me he’s planning to go and enlist as a mercenary in the south. But if it’s already overran…” thought Vadrys out loud.

“Don’t even think about something like that,” said Ardyn. “You’re going to stress me out.”

Vadrys laughed at that. Even he was sceptical to believe a city as huge as Narsis could fall so easily.

“But it is true that ever since the Red Mountain erupted, our forces are stretched thin. It is entirely possible the refugees are telling the truth,” said Reynis as he took another sip of his flin.

Vadrys’ eyes widened. He put some septims on the table and stood up. “I think I’ll end it here. I have to wake up early tomorrow. And this conversation is beginning to scare me.”

“What? Isn’t it way too early? Also, you were the one who started talking about this. You have only yourself to blame,” said Ardyn. Vadrys smiled.

“I guess that’s true. Anyway, take care and good night,” said Vadrys as he left the corner club.

Once he came home, he locked the door, only to unlock it again and leave it like that. He took a spear he had finished making recently as an order and put it next to his bed, so it leaned on his night table. He didn’t even change into his night gown. He didn’t know what is the matter with him - he knew he was acting strange. But that overwhelming feeling of uncertainty and fear only grew stronger inside of him. As if he expected something to happen, like a premonition. All these strange rumours, what he heard, not only today, only reinforced this feeling. He didn’t know whether his feelings are correct or wrong, and so he decided to go to sleep. He knew it would help him calm down. And, after all, things look better in the morning.