Breakfast was a storm of excited talk, questions, and congratulations. Jorman had come by to wake me up early, and I’d had a fairly simple conversation with Jarl Korir about his job offer. My list of conditions was short, but non-negotiable.
The first condition was that I decided who joined me, and who didn’t during my hunt for the bandits. The twins were my first choice, their field skills suited them well as scouts, and they were eager to put more arrows into bodies. I had a few others in mind, but I still needed to ask them. One I was sure of, the other I wasn’t. The Jarl had agreed to that condition without hesitation, he didn’t have the men to spare for me anyways.
The second condition, was that I was allowed to exercise my own judgement as I saw fit when it came to taking prisoners, leveling charges, and summary executions. The Jarl had paused when I went into full detail of what that meant, but Jorman talked him into it, citing my showing the night before. They needed justice under law, not retribution by roving warband. The Jarl would have me hang every single person I crossed that had assisted the bandits, but that wasn’t an option. The people of his hold were desperate, and that meant plenty of good men would have turned to banditry, or at least turned a blind eye to it. Plenty of them would die too, but that was a given either way.
The third, was that he not interfere with my methods. Magic was too powerful to pass up, and there weren’t enough potions left to keep a troop of fighting men in good condition. My plan was to have two men trained in the rudiments of healing magic before we began our hunt in earnest, one of which would ideally be my self. That way we could keep each other alive even if one healer was injured. Fireballs, holy light, and wards against evil would be necessary once we went after the necromancers. I was sure that the two groups were involved with each other. Allies of convenience at the least, a single entity headed by the same villain at the worst.
My final condition, was that the men were paid twenty pieces per diem, and that the bounties would be paid out on every bandit we killed. The Jarl had cringed when I told him my vision was a twenty man party, but he accepted the cost. Four hundred coins per day wasn’t cheap, but the Jarl had time to stock up some money. I had gotten a large sum for the work in catching the spies, and an equally large sum to use for catching the bandits. There were about four thousand coins in the strongbox I’d been gifted, and I still had a variety of jewelry and gems to sell.
With our terms agreed on, the Jarl asked what my next move was for catching the bandits. That had led to a conversation about where the missing persons had been reported, where the rumors of necromancers were strongest, and where the hold was weakest. A few camps, known caves, ruins, and distressed villages had been pointed out on the map in his war room. Without a court wizard or a scribe, there was little chance to get an accurate copy. The twins would know some of the locations, but not all of them.
I was sitting in my quarters after breakfast, trying to come up with a battle plan. The bandits were the easier target, and it’d be best to focus on them for now. Small gangs hiding out in the mountains were the ideal starting point, if we could find them. The first problem to solve then, was to get a lay of the land. Proper, first hand experience. The First Ranger should be someone familiar with the region after all. I looked to my leather ruck, and started putting a list together. Food, potions, arrows, camping supplies, the vast list of things I would need for a week in the wild.
The first step to that was to properly dig through the ruck. I’d never emptied it completely, mostly because there wasn’t much of a place to put the things in it. There were still a few stamina potions, the poison, dry rations, my camping kit, the hatchet… and a roll of parchment. When I touched it, a window appeared in my vision.
[Alert: Map Activated]
[Description: This map is enchanted to remember all the locations you have visited, and to show your current position across all of Tamriel. Venturing into other planes is not supported by this map. Several points have been added from your memory.]
I unrolled the parchment, it was about as long as my forearm and less tall. There was a marked point glowing with the name Johannes, and a small arrow under my name. I touched it, and an additional name appeared, Karliene is nearby. To the southeast, I saw what looked to be a drawn cave with the label Jurger’s Hideaway. Between my name and it, was a mountain range, a point nestled in a narrow pass, Ice Troll Gap. To the west, Blackstone Beach. Farther west of that, was Dawn Star, to the south was Windhelm, as my eyes moved to the map edge, the map scrolled. I’d been trying to ignore the damned windows that popped up in my vision, but if tools like these were part of it, I couldn’t ignore them any longer.
I spent some time with the map, trying to picture the points that the Jarl had mentioned on his larger map, but nothing was added. Not to be discouraged, I took the map and went back to the war room. Looking at it there, new points began to materialize on my personal map. They had circles around them, like the location was somewhere loosely inside. I’d just finished when Jorman came in.
“Johannes, hunting for your first target?” The housecarl asked. I’d tucked away the map before he could see it. It was probably worth a fortune, and I’d rather not let anyone know about it.
“Yes. I think I’m going to head west, towards the mountains between here and Dawnstar. The bandits won’t have gotten word that they’re being hunted yet, but it’s too late to follow up on that letter.” The timing had been poor on our part. If the Jarl had dithered a little less, or foregone calling his retainers, we could have sent a hunting party after Merkin. We knew he was somewhere in The Pale though, which was a help.
“Rattling the bandits around is a good start. If they lash out, it makes them easy to find. If they run, they aren’t our problem. It’s the Necromancers I’m more worried about.” Jorman tapped his finger on the cluster of missing persons and reports of undead nearest to the town to our east.
“You’re right, they are the real danger, but it’d be foolish to rush in. I’m going to see about recruiting some specialist help for that count. Have you met Jori, the mage from the college?” I asked.
“Once or twice in the tavern. He’s alright for a mage. What makes you want him for the job?” Jorman answered a hundred questions at once. If he didn’t even know that Jori was a Vigilant, what else had they missed?
“He’s a Vigilant of Stendarr. They hunt down necromancers and other dark wizards. He offered to train me in some of their magic, and he feels the same way you do about these scum murdering innocent farmers.” I tapped the report of a farm attack to the southeast of town.
“Oh, I remember him. He came to speak with the Jarl a few months ago. He made it sound like the Vigilants wanted money to help.” Jorman huffed.
“They’re a small order, but they’re good at what they do. Jori knows they can’t afford to send a large detachment up to Winterhold, they probably have a hundred, two hundred members at most. Part of my plan is to enlist their help, with the promise that I’ll split the bounty with them. A few war clerics with the infantry is sure to boost morale, after my men see what the Vigilants can do. I need the infantry too. It’s a long road.” I grinned at Jorman’s smirk.
“It sounds like it. So you trust the Vigilants? They aren’t charlatans doing tricks for a spare coin?” Jorman asked.
“They’re the real deal. You should hear this now that I think about it. Jori said that reports have been coming in from all over Skyrim about foul creatures. Vampires, werewolves, undead, daedra, cultists and necromancers, it’s like some sort of dam broke and they’re flooding the place. The Vigilants are up to their neck in shit already, and they think that it’s only going to get worse if the war between the Stormcloaks and Imperials really happens. The Jarls are all worried about a war, so they’re hording what soldiers they have. Care to share your opinion?” I looked at the suddenly anxious housecarl.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“The Vigilants aren’t wrong. I’ve asked the Jarl to let me take a raiding band after these criminals long before you came. He said no, because Jarl Ulfric has called on our support if war comes. The other Jarls have received the same summons from Ulfric. If a war comes, everyone wants to have their soldiers ready. I hadn’t heard things were getting so bad around the rest of the Holds.” Jorman pursed his lips, distraught.
“Perhaps if Jarl Ulfric wants the support of Winterhold, he should send a band of Stormcloaks to assist our efforts.” I suggested. That brought a laugh from behind me. Jarl Korir had come in, along with Rolvar.
“An unlikely event. Jarl Ulfric is a proud man, of high standing. He doesn’t answer summons, we answer his. I sent a letter to Windhelm asking that very thing after the first reports of the undead arose. The only response was that by joining the Stormcloaks, we would make Skyrim stronger together. I’m not prepared to declare open support for Ulfric, not with all of these problems in my own hold.” Korir admitted as he took a seat at the table. It was a hard pressed situation.
“If you declare for his cause, there is a good chance that Ulfric asks for soldiers instead of sending them. If you don’t, there’s no chance that they come to help, but you at least have your own men.” I could appreciate the problem.
“Exactly. We don’t even have a castle smith, damn it all, we haven’t had a castle here since the time of my great great grandfather’s rule. How am I to send soldiers I don’t have with equipment we can’t produce?” Korir hissed into his cup. It was another symptom of the vicious cycle his realm was caught in.
“I’ll keep my eyes open for a talented smith on my patrols. The country hides talent in its hills.” I looked to the map. There may not be a spare smith in Winterhold, but I was sure that an apprentice, or an aspiring journeyman could be convinced to come along after we settled things with the bandits.
“Worry about the damned bandits first. What of that? Have you thought up a plan?” Korir asked.
“Yes Jarl, I’m going to take the twins west and hit a few of these suspected camps after I’m sure we’re ready. It won’t be a major action, just a small raid. We’ll kill who we can and question the survivors. I’ve got something in the works for the necromancers too, but I’ll need more men before we take them on. I’ll handle recruiting on my end.” We spoke for a while longer before I took my leave of the Jarl.
My next visit was to the College. There was a woman barring my way on the bridge. It seemed like she was the gate keeper for the place. Hopefully it was an easy thing to slip by.
“Halt there stranger. What business have you with the College?” The woman, an Altmer at closer look, held up her hand.
“I wish to speak with Jori, the Vigilant that is studying here. He offered to teach me some of his order’s magic, and I also have a job for him. My name is Johannes.” She probably hadn’t expected that from a man clad in steel, with a poleaxe over his shoulder.
“I see. You’re the one the town has been buzzing about lately? The stranger that fought a troll, turned in a wanted necromancer?” She asked.
“That’s right. Can I see Jori?” I asked again.
“Outsiders aren’t allowed onto college grounds without permission of the Master Wizard or the Arch-Mage. You will have to wait. I will pass along your message to Jori. Good day, Johannes.” She went back to her covered alcove.
“What was your name?” I asked, much to her annoyance.
“Faralda, now get going.” She shooed me off the steps. That shot down my initial plan for the day, but left the other end open.
I headed out of town, towards the tannery. The other person I wanted to see, the only other mage I was on speaking terms with, had hopefully recovered. When I arrived, Galteir was working his business, scolding the workers.
“Johannes, something I can do for you?” Galteir asked, a slight twitch in his voice.
“I was wondering if Riga was… well, if she’s in a fit state to talk. I can leave if she isn’t.” I didn’t want to intrude, it’d been less than twenty four hours since I’d knocked her off the horse.
“Oh, well, I think she’d like to see you actually. We’re grateful for what you did, if the Jarl had found out, and you hadn’t been there…” Galteir shivered.
“Justice is blind Galteir, but the man in charge of it usually isn’t. I did what was right, nothing more.” I waved off his thanks. I’d also let the girl be tormented by Hemjar, to work my own angle in. It hadn’t gone far, but it still hadn’t been necessary. Torture was used to send a message, not for answers.
“You keep being humble like that all you want, we’ll remember what you’ve done for us. She’s inside by the fire I think, curled up with one of them spell books.” Galteir looked a hint uncomfortable with that, but it didn’t make a difference one way or the other now, the whole town knew about it by now. Another piece slid perfectly into place for me. I found my way to the door, knocked twice, and slowly stepped inside.
“Riga? It’s Johannes, your father said it was alright if I came in to talk with you.” I looked over the chairs near the fire, they were empty. There was a spell tome sitting on a table though. I peeked around the first floor, until I heard thumping feet from the floor above.
“Johannes? Sorry, I was… never mind, what brought you over?” Riga called as she came down the stairs. She almost fell down the last few steps, but caught herself before I had to step in. She regained her balance, smoothed out her dress, and tucked away an errant hair. I couldn’t help but smile at her awkward look. She blushed just a touch, reminding me to talk.
“Oh, I came over to ask about the magic you’ve learned.” Riga grinned, and took my hand to the chairs by the fire. There was a pile of tomes I hadn’t noticed beside her chair.
“So this one is about fire, Embers To Flame: For the Novice Pyromancer, it’s great. It talks all about how mana channels itself and how to use it. Not everyone can, but I bet you could!” She started with the book on the table.
“Is it safe to assume that you lit that fire by yourself?” I pointed to the hearth. She smiled again.
“Maaaaybe. I’ve got this one about light, this one about snow and ice, and this one here, about healing and restoration. It has some things about protecting yourself from the undead too, but I haven’t learned any of those yet, they’re challenging.” The healing book caught my eye first. Riga noticed that, and offered it to me.
“Pull a chair closer, so the first few pages are about…” Riga was in her element, she was a real natural. Something clicked in my head with the mana exercises after the first hour. I let her keep teaching, talking out the finer points of what she’d noticed, until it came time to try the easiest spell in the book. The easiest according to her at least. It was called the Lesser Ward, and it would protect against hostile magic. Something told me that four hours of instruction was unnaturally fast to learn magic, but I rolled with it.
“Ready? Envision the shield, will your magic to manifest in a protective barrier, you’ve got it!” Riga was very encouraging. Flickers came from my hand, little sparks, until a buckler sized shield of magic flared to life. It was hard to maintain, I only managed a few seconds before a wave of exhaustion crashed on me. It hadn’t seemed like I’d done much, but I felt like I’d rucked twenty miles while reading a dictionary.
“Woah! Here, sit down Johannes.” She took me by the arm and put me in the chair.
“That was, well, that was something.” I tried to arrange my words.
“That was incredible! It took me a week to make a light! You manifested a working ward!” She was over the moon.
“What can I say? I have a gorg— er, good teacher.” I’d slipped up enough that Riga noticed, but she took it in stride.
“You must be from a magic bloodline. Some people are. My father doesn’t like to admit it, but we have a famous ancestor, Hidja the Storm Blade. He was a giant slayer in the third era.” Riga regaled me with the legend of her spell knight ancestor, and how he’d saved the whole village of something or other.
“How’d you like to have a legend like that?” I asked her as she finished. My wits had collected themselves, but there was an angry alert talking about mental exhaustion until I rested.
“What do you mean?” Riga seemed confused.
“I mean that you’re young, you’re talented, and there’s a crisis in the Hold. I’ve been made the First Ranger by the Jarl, I’m going to hunt down the bandits and the necromancers that blackmailed you. I need healers and fighters. You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to, but you already know some of this restoration magic. People won’t think bad of you if it was your magic that saved their son, husband, brother, father.” I pointed to the restoration tome. Riga seemed stunned, but clapped her hands and stomped her feet.
“Yes! Yes I’ll come with you!” Riga burst out of her chair and tried to give me a hug in her excitement. It caught me off guard, I’d expected her to say yes, just not with that kind of fervor.
“Steady now, we still have to ask…” Riga shot me a silencing look.
“If I’m old enough to risk being hung, I’m old enough to make my own choice on this. Olam was younger when he joined the Jarl’s guard!” The force in the statement sealed the deal. Something had changed in her overnight, that was for sure.
“Fine, but I’d prefer it if you left with his blessing. We’ll need to get you fitted for some armor too. Do you know how to fight?” I asked next.
“Some. Olam taught me how to defend my self with an axe.” That didn’t sound like much. A woodsman axe was a whole different animal to a war axe.
“How about a bow?”
“I can shoot, but not as well as the hunters that come by. Maybe Angven would teach me?” She sounded a bit nervous at that.
“The twins could teach us both on that. They’re pretty good. They probably need a hand learning how to fight, I could use a touch on my own skills with the axe. I’ll talk with Jorman and Rolvar tonight. Does your father need you for anything tomorrow?” I stood from the chair.
“I’ll finish what needs doing early.” She assured me.
“Alright. Eat a good breakfast, I’ll come by in the morning. The twins will teach us how to shoot, and if we don’t have a fighter for the afternoon, we’ll try some more magic. Have a good night Riga.” I made for the door. She looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it.
“Good night Johannes.”