Harrani awards me with the finest battle axe in Mistral’s armory, which she tells me is named Khenarthi’s Storm. I suspect that word got ahead to her that I always name my weapons something ridiculous if they didn’t already have a name. That’s not going to stop me from calling it Stormy. It doesn’t even look like anything particularly special, no fancy markings or enchantments, but I’m grateful to have it regardless. In any case, last time somebody gave me a magic weapon with a fancy name, it was a one-handed sword, despite the fact that I prefer two-handed axes. Somebody was more interested in giving me a weapon that would be a fine pair with one for my wife, rather than one that would actually be practical for me. Somehow this wound up being finely symbolic of our marriage being useless.

Captain Jimila has gotten the Prowler fully repaired and is happy to give me a ride for free anywhere I want, so long as I want to go to Auridon because that’s where she’s sailing. A number of Dominion dignitaries are going along, presumably having been done with Khenarthi’s Roost and not wanting to stay a moment longer than necessary, now that the Maormer have been dealt with. Razum-dar asked me to go along because he believes the Maormer may threaten Auridon next and Vulkhel Guard needs to be warned. This will probably (almost certainly) lead to me getting the opportunity to hit more sea elves.

As we’re sailing to Auridon, the Prophet appears in my dreams, and he’s rambling about destiny or something again. I don’t quite make out what he’s trying to tell me before it devolves into a Daedra-related nightmare, but he does give me the sense of a location of a cave near the city Vulkhel Guard where he wants to meet me. I guess I’ll have to figure out what he wants in person.

The ride is smooth and thankfully storm-free, and we are unbothered by any Maormer pirates. Almost a pity since I’d wanted to try out my new axe, but I’m sure I’ll get the chance soon enough. We arrive in due course in the port city of Vulkhel guard. It’s… very pretty. Very high elven. White buildings, golden sands, flowering trees. This is what my ancestors left behind when they decided to go to the north and east, to the lands around Red Mountain. This is a soft land for a soft people.

A number of Khajiit and Bosmer are fishing along the water, and that section unsurprisingly smells very fishy, hopefully just in the literal way and not that there’s suspicious activity going on around there. (There’s probably suspicious activity going on somewhere else, though.) The docks area is a bustling place, with vendors under tents offering a wide variety of goods for sale; I browse casually but don’t buy anything. A nearby poster pronounces the glory of contests of martial prowess; I might check that out later. My first priority is the nearest inn.

I don’t even manage to get up the first set of stairs leading into the city before a uniformed woman stops me. First it’s wanting to register my visit, state my name and business, not that she’s stopping anyone else to ask that. Fine.

“My name is Neralion. I just arrived from Khenarthi’s Roost. It was attacked by Sea Viper pirates. Razum-dar sent me to warn Vulkhel Guard about Maormer activity.”

“Alright, I’ll make note of that and ensure the information is passed along to those who need to know.” She boredly writes down my name and ushers me along. You’d think they’d be a bit more concerned about that, but whatever. I’ve done what was asked of me and can do my own investigation on my own time.

“Could you tell me which way to the closest inn?” I ask, then pause. “Or, a good inn?”

“The closest one would be the Salted Wings Tavern near the docks.” She points to the left. “But if you’re looking for one that’s actually good, you’ll want the Mara’s Kiss Public House.” She points behind her. “Straight up the road and just past the wayshrine.”

I thank her and head that way. The wayshrine in question looks different from the ones on Khenarthi’s Roost, which probably shouldn’t be surprising as I doubt high elves would put cats on absolutely everything. It looks more like a small high elf-style building like the rest of town, a little gazebo sheltering a raised brazier on a plinth. (Plinth is the right word, isn’t it? Seht would be thrilled at me for remembering that.) I light the brazier and watch the warm blue flames flicker for a few minutes.

Next to the inn is a stable containing several horses. I wish they were guar. I miss guar. I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing a lot of people riding guar in this part of the world, though, more’s the pity. These hooved animals seem so clumsy and awkward to me. How would you even get one of them over rugged ground?

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

The Mara’s Kiss is a cozy place, with a crackling fire on the hearth with a painting of a waterfall above it. Although, considering how warm it is here, I’m not sure why they felt the need to have the fire burning in the middle of the day.

I settle in for lunch, and a meal that does not contain fish or moon sugar. I’ll not complain of roast venison and steamed radishes, even if I still find myself missing ash yams and kwama eggs. This has been a great adventure, but being back on Nirn has brought to mind some things I had pushed aside while in Coldharbour. I never felt homesick while in Coldharbour. Now I’m missing a land and a people that no longer really exist.

“Hmm, you have a look about you…” a voice distracts me from my melancholy thoughts. A human woman, shorter than a Nord, probably a Breton or an Imperial. I can’t tell the difference between them.

“Excuse me?” I say.

“Oh, I don’t mean to be rude!” She introduces herself as Felande Demarie, goes on about owning property across Tamriel, and makes some really awkward turns of phrase that I graciously ignore.

“I seeeee,” I drawl. “Okay. How much is the room, anyway?”

“Oh, no charge!” Felande says. “It’s absolutely free!”

“Okay, what’s wrong with the room, then?” I ask.

And then she starts babbling something about freshening her image, problems with previous tenants, and I read between the lines that the place used to be used for blood sacrifices, then was later used to brew skooma, and she wants a fine, upstanding adventurer to make her look less bad.

“Seriously?” I say. “And I was told this was the good inn. I hate to think what must go on at the Salty Wings Tavern.”

“Does that mean you don’t want the room?” Felande asks, face falling.

“No, I’ll take it,” I say. “It’s conveniently located—” right next to the wayshrine, “—and I’m sure I can clean it up and air it out.”

“Great!” Felande immediately perks up. “You can do all sorts of things with it. Store your adventuring supplies, display trophies, maybe put in a bookshelf if you’re the reading sort of adventurer, but that looks like an axe on your back rather than a staff so maybe not. Uhh—not to imply that you don’t know how to read! People with battle axes can certainly be academic too if they want!”

This human might even be sillier than me.

“Anyway, here’s the key,” Felande says, pulling it out and handing it to me. “It was a bit of trouble to get it back from the previous tenant.” She lowers her voice a bit. “I had to find out how to get into the local outlaw refuge, and believe me, I’d rather not have had to know what goes on in the sewers around here!”

“What happened to the previous tenant?” I ask. “Out of morbid curiosity.”

“No one could be sure, but the Dark Brotherhood was suspected,” Felande says. At my blank look, she adds, “You know, the mysterious group of assassins? I don’t know what he did to convince someone to hire assassins to murder him, and I don’t want to know.”

I unlock the door and open it up to take a look around the room, but stop in the doorway. The smell of skooma smoke is very faint, but most notable is the fact that I can almost touch the far wall and the doorframe at the same time.

“Felande, this room is a closet.”

“Well… yes, I know it’s not very big, but it can still be very useful!” Felande insists. “This is a very competitive location, after all. And I’m sure whatever you’d want to fit in there would be better than a bloody altar or a skooma-stained alchemy table.”

“Yes, I have no intention of performing blood sacrifices or brewing skooma, I assure you,” I say.

“Anyway, don’t you adventuring types always want a home in every town?” Felande says. “It’ll be an excellent addition to your holdings!”

“At the moment, it’s my only holding,” I say. “So I’m not going to complain. Gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Right!” Felande agrees enthusiastically.

It’s not completely useless, I suppose. I can at least use it as a closet and store things in it like extra clothes, if I’m going to be dropping everything I’m carrying and wearing every time I die. Still, I was hoping to sleep in a bed that doesn’t move tonight, and there isn’t even room in this room to fit one without blocking the door.

“I suppose you could also tell me where I might be able to acquire some furnishings?” I ask.

She gives me directions, so I bid her good day and head for the market.

Harrani had made sure I also received a monetary award for my role in aiding Khenarthi’s Roost, and Raz additionally made sure I’d have money for expenses, with a sly note not to drop it again. Best keep most of it in my house, or perhaps find a bank. Keeping money in the bank in case of death is probably not a high concern for most people.

I don’t think a normal bed would fit, but that’s fine. I don’t mind more rustic accommodations, and am able to cheaply acquire some fur bedding that looks like it would be sufficiently comfortable. I also order some shelves to be delivered, a wash basin because I’m damned well going to be able to take a hot bath in my own closet if I want, and then I proceed to go on a shopping spree for lovely, completely ordinary clothing that make me think Coldharbour prison rags have given me a slightly skewed idea on what nice clothing is. At least I didn’t have to steal these. (I will probably still raid bandit laundry at some point in the future just for extra disposable clothes, though. I have a feeling I’m going to need them.)

After spending most of my money on clothes and furnishings, I’m feeling slightly poorer but considerably more confident. Sleeping in my own room with a locked door is a lovely thing. Even if I have to lay in it diagonally. Maybe I can dream of one day owning a manor. Wouldn’t that be something? The world is probably full of plenty of people willing to pay someone to hit things.