It was the seventeenth of the month, the beginning of a new week, when a servant knocked on my door. She was one of the kitchen girls, and very shy. I’d tossed her a coin as thanks and made directly for the Jarl’s quarters. Rolvar, Jorman, and a few other scarred men were gathered up. It seemed I was the last to arrive.
“Johannes, we’ve worked up a plan. These men are my retainers, Gilgar Ironhand, Molnen of the Mountain, and Hemjar.” The Jarl introduced each man in turn. They all wore fine armor, and carried finer weapons.
“Just Hemjar?” I asked, trying to break the ice. That drew more than one laugh.
“He’s earned too many titles to choose from, but my favorite is Pig Crusher. It is as funny a story as it sounds but now isn’t the time. The guards are gathering everyone for my announcement of the dead bandits. I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to claim credit. I want you to go, get the twins you’ve befriended, and set yourself on the hill to the south of the road.” Jarl Korir began, beckoning me towards the table they were gathered around.
“We expect that whoever the bandit’s informant is will leave quickly once my announcement is made. I plan to make a grand oath of bringing the bandit gang to justice, that my personal guard will be leaving at dawn, that sort of thing. I’ll be inviting the town to a feast in my hall to celebrate the capture of a wanted criminal and to spread well wishes with the guards. Nobody in this town would turn down a free meal from the Jarl, unless they had a pressing reason. Still, there may be innocent travelers, so we’ve laid out some bait. Hemjar rode in under cloak, and tied an old, slow horse outside the tavern. With everyone in the longhouse, it would be a simple thing to steal the horse and make a quick escape in the dark.” Jarl Korir had a devious smile on his lips. It was infectious.
“You should be able to see the tavern from the hill, with the aid of this ring. A gift from Mirabelle, in return for the notes you provided.” The Jarl produced a ring from his belt.
[Item: Ring of Night Sight]
[Description: This ring provides excellent night vision to the wearer, much like a cat’s eye. It still requires some light to function.]
“Our entire plan hinges on your success tonight, do you understand?” The Jarl asked seriously. I bowed my head.
“Yes Jarl, I’ll take the spy alive, where do you want him delivered?” The savage part of my brain was positively salivating.
“Galteir’s tannery, I understand he has a very sturdy warehouse for his carcasses, and plenty of tools for…” Jarl Korir let the point trail off, it didn’t need to be said. A tannery had plenty of unpleasant things to supplement an enhanced interrogation.
“Understood Jarl, I’ll get him for you.” I made a small bow.
“Go on, before the crowd arrives. I’ve had Wolfbite harness your dogs already. Good luck.” Jarl Korir dismissed me. I was on my sled and headed out just as the first townspeople were walking towards the Jarl’s longhouse. The twins were taking practice shots on the edge of town, it hadn’t taken long to find them.
“Johannes, good to see you. Up for some archery, or…?” Angven eyed the dog sled.
“No, it’s time for a hunt. Get on, I’ll explain.” I patted the sled. It was large enough for the twins to sit in tandem on the front. We headed out to the road, diverted, and circled around back to the hill the Jarl had mentioned. It had a good view of the town, the road nestled between the mountain and the sea, a perfect point to observe.
“So we’re looking for a bandit spy? What’s your plan for catching him?” Angven asked as we settled in under a white tarp, a small window dug out from the snow drift we’d chosen.
“The Jarl said that he left a lame horse in an easy to steal place. See the brown and white one by the tavern?” It was well off in the distance, but both the boys had hawk’s eyes. They nodded.
“When that horse is stolen, if it’s stolen, we’ll have our man. Not many horses in Winterhold, so it’s the best option for a spy needing a quick escape. The dogs are faster than the horse is, if they aren’t, I’ll set Karliene loose to kill it on her own. After we deal with the horse, we’ll run the spy down and tie him up. Simple plan.” That assumed there was a bandit spy, and that the announcement would scare the informant the right way. Jarl Korir seemed sure that it would.
We could see the crowd, and heard a distant roar of applause as the Jarl finished his speech. The doors to his hall opened just as the sun began to set. I slipped the night sight ring on once the sun had vanished, leaving one moon as sovereign in the night sky. That still bothered me, but I hadn’t figured out a good way to ask about the moons without drawing odd looks. It was a bright night without the ring, the moon was almost full. With the ring, the whole place was lit up like the sun had never set.
The moon rose half way to its height before anything of note happened. The horse was still tied to the tavern, and the streets were deserted aside from the odd drunken reveler stumbling home. It was two figures in black that caught my eye, in an alley between two houses. It was impossible to tell exactly what was happening, but one seemed to be on the receiving end of tongue lashing. The taller figure thrust something into the shorter one’s hands, and pushed him away down the alley. I kept my eyes on the smaller one.
“Angven, can you see those two on the north side of town? One now, the tall man in black?” I kept my eyes roving for wherever the small man had made off too, he’d skirted around a line of houses.
“Barely, he’s moving towards the tavern. You think that’s our spy?”
“Maybe, I think he’s the spy’s handler. Anglin, far east side, on the outskirts, you see the small guy moving along the fence?” The small man re-appeared for a moment, following a low stone wall to a barn.
“I’ve got him, he’s gone inside Elkin’s stable. Angven, how old is Elkin’s son?”
“Fifteen or so I think, and he’s still scrawny. Hey, the tall one is heading back to the Jarl’s hall. Wait, no he’s gone around the back.” Angven dug out a bit more of our snowy window. I looked, and saw the tall figure disappear behind the longhouse. Anglin hissed.
“The small one’s taken a horse. Elkin’s horses are fast, and his boy is a good rider if that’s him.” That complicated things, but not much. Karliene was faster than a horse, and so were arrows. I whistled, Karliene brought the sled up, eager to get going after napping in the snow.
“Looks like he’s going for it. We’ll go down the back slope and shoot his horse out from under him if we have to. All aboard.” I climbed on the sled, the boys rolled up our tarp and hopped on too. They hadn’t had any real arrows with them while they were practicing, but I kept a quiver of good steel heads in the chest I’d tied to the sled.
“Shoot the horse only, we need the spy alive, whoever it is. It also might be Elkin’s son, and I don’t want to kill a town boy if we don’t have to.” I warned the twins as we made our way down the south side of the hill, the road turned around a bend ahead, there was a clutch of trees we could use for cover. An idea occurred when I saw the trees.
“Got it, we can hit a horse easily.” Angven assured. The two twins took up a position in the trees while I rummaged around in my chest.
“Take this rope, tie it to that tree, about head height. Don’t shoot unless the boy gets by us alright? We might be able to take him without hurting the horse. It isn’t Elkin’s fault that someone stole it.” I took the other end of the rope, and crossed the road in a shadow cast by the tall pines. There was another tree that I climbed quickly, till I was level with where the rope had been tied on the other side. It was about a minute before the coconut clopping noises of the horse came around the turn. The rider was dressed in black, with a thick fur cloak billowing behind him. He was driving the horse hard.
One, Two, Three!
I yanked the rope line taut, it flicked the horse in the eyes before bouncing off, and caught the rider in the neck. He crashed to the ground with a high pitched squeal, the horse whinnying in fright as it clomped off into the darkness. Anglin was in the road and on top of the rider before he had a chance to stand.
“You! You’d better not move!” He was yelling, he punched the black figure once, then twice before I was beside him.
“Take his arms, get his arms! Oh shit wa－” I saw the beginnings of magic forming in our would-be captive’s hands, and pushed Anglin to the ground. A bolt of ice shot out, whistling over my head, then I could smell smoke. The Rider had gotten to his feet, right hand sheathed in ice, left in flames. He was turned slightly away from me, looking at Angven, the hunter had nocked an arrow and was about to loose it.
“Don’t kill him!” I yelled, drawing the rider’s attention back to me just in time. He spun into my hook. Another ice spike had formed in his hand, and rather than dissipate with the caster’s descent into blissful discombobulation, it shot out towards me. The spike shattered on my armor, spraying razor shards of ice in every direction. I felt a sting on my face as one cut my cheek, but otherwise I’d survived it. The rider dropped hard for a second time, and didn’t move again.
“Angven, Anglin, are we whole?” I looked to the twins. They seemed alright.
“We’re fine, let’s see who our spy is.” Anglin leaned down and pulled away the black cowl. Golden hair, a lean, small build, and eyes like Galteir’s.
“Riga?” All three of us sputtered, confused.
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“How in oblivion did she learn magic?” Angven asked quietly.
“Probably some mage at the tavern, or a book from Birna.” Anglin theorized.
“That man gave her something.” I started rifling through her pockets, and came away with a note a minute later, it’d been hidden inside the folds of her jacket. The twins had looked awkwardly away when I’d shoved my hand down the front of her shirt. It was strictly business, not pleasure.
“She’s our gal. Jackpot here.” I waved the note to the boys. It’d been a warning to Merkin that Blacktooth had been caught, and the Jarl’s men were coming. The signature had been someone named Dark Eye.
“What do we do with her then?” Angven asked. I hadn’t told them the next part of the plan, they didn’t need to know.
“I take her to the Jarl. Go to the feast, if anyone asks where you’ve been, tell them that you went out hunting for hares. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh. For the work tonight. The Jarl will probably pay you again, but that’s from me, for coming at short notice.” I reached into my belt pouch, and pulled out a few mundane rings. The twins nodded gratefully, and started back up the road after we’d tied Riga to the sled.
Galteir’s tannery was deserted, save for a lone man in armor, trying to stay out of sight. It was a good thing Rolvar hadn’t been sent along to catch the spy, because he’d chosen a place to hide that was in the shadows when the sun had been out, but was lit up like a bonfire in the moonlight.
“Rolvar, that’s not a good place to hide. The moon is out. Your helmet is shining.” I chuckled at him. The guard muttered a curse and came out from behind the crates.
“So you caught him then?” He strode forwards, looking at the sled.
“Caught her. It was Riga, Galteir’s daughter. She had a note on her and everything. We’ll need to question her for how much she knows, and where she learned magic.” I looked down at the hogtied woman on my sled.
“Riga doesn’t know magic, she’s never spent a day at the college.”
“Yeah? I bet you people know how to fuck but I’ve not seen the whore house in Winterhold yet.” I pulled the girl up and put her over my shoulder, heading for the stone warehouse. Rolvar had been shocked silent for a moment, before sputtering.
“Wait, you, you can’t just take her in there like some common bandit, she’s Galteir’s daughter!” Rolvar tried to stop me from heading for the door.
“And? She tried to kill Anglin and Angven, put a scratch on my armor with a spear of ice. I’m willing to forgive that because she didn’t know who we were, but one way or another these bandit bastards were using her. We need to know why. Open the door! It’s Johannes, I got the rat.” I knocked on the warehouse. Jorman, Hemjar, and a woman I didn’t know were waiting inside. We were beckoned in, where a chair had been set in the middle of the warehouse. Rolvar still looked uncomfortable, but stopped complaining.
“Nice work Johannes, who’s the sorry sack of shit that I get to play with tonight? Hope he’s a loud one.” Hemjar bore a cruel smile as I set the woman down in front of the chair. The smile changed when he saw the long blonde hair, the thin waist, and other feminine features.
“Riga. And yes, I’m sure it was her, I pulled this note out of her jacket.” I handed the parchment over to Jorman. He looked unsure, confused, and then furious as he read it.
“This little bitch was going to try to get us all killed!” His voice boomed. I was untying her bindings so that I could tie her back to the chair.
“Not necessarily Jorman, not like that. I was the one that broke the seal, she probably had no idea what was written on it.” I lifted her up, she groaned weakly, finally starting to come around. A huge purple bruise had consumed the right half of her face already from where I’d hit her. Jorman helped me to tie her up, it was done in a moment. Hemjar had a bucket of water, chunks of ice floating in it.
“Open her jacket.” Hemjar looked to Rolvar. The guard hesitated, scowled, and did it.
“Riga! Wake up Riga!” Hemjar bellowed. The girl lifted her head, still halfwitted, and caught a face full of freezing water. She shrieked, spluttering.
“What? Where…?” Another load of water doused her, soaking through the thick shirt she wore. The warehouse wasn’t heated, besides the two braziers that had been lit. It was well below freezing inside. If Riga didn’t start spitting out answers soon, she’d freeze to death in minutes.
“RIGAAA!” Hemjar tossed his bucket, and stomped forward to yell in her face. The girl recoiled, fearful eyes settling on the armored man.
“What do you want? Why am I tied up?” She betrayed herself with a nervous glance to me. Hemjar held up the note I’d handed over.
“I want to know who gave you this.” He was inches from her face, shouting.
“I don’t know… It was someone different every time. Please, I don’t know what was on the letters!” She was shivering already. Hemjar grabbed a hold of her jacket, and pulled it down off her shoulders. She still had the soaked shirt to keep her somewhat modest, but it was the shirt that was killing her.
“Don’t lie to me girl!” Hemjar slapped her hard, on the already bruised part of her face. It had to hurt. Hemjar wasn’t wearing plated gloves, but he was a massive man. Three Rigas would barely even out a scale if Hemjar was on the other side. I cringed at the second slap, Riga was bawling.
“Answer me! Who gave you this letter?” Hemjar yelled again, but held back from hitting her.
“He was an elf, but I didn’t get a look at his face. I could see the points of his ears sticking up under his cloak! They always wear scarves, and they only come after dark!” Riga cried.
“An elf? What kind of elf? Answer me girl! A Dunmer? An Altmer? Maybe one of those sharp toothed cannibals, a Bosmer?” Hemjar took the chair and shook it.
“I don’t know! I didn’t see his face or his skin!” Hemjar picked the whole chair up, and made for a brazier.
“You look a little cold girl, why don’t we warm you up.” That was where I drew the line, Rolvar did too.
“Hemjar! I saw the man she mentioned. He was tall, wearing all black, he didn’t have a single bit of skin showing. He’s still in the town, has to be.” I put a hand on his shoulder, I had to reach up to manage it. The giant set Riga down near the brazier, and turned to me.
“You should have mentioned that.” He hissed, looking disgusted.
“Needed to see if she would tell the truth, and she is. I’ve got a question for her though.” I pushed past the big man, and knelt down in front of the poor girl. Her hair had started to freeze together. Jorman spoke quickly.
“Rolvar, go to the Jarl, gather up Tolin and a few other trustworthy men. Arrest every elf in the town.” Jorman pushed the man towards the door. The guard took off at a run once he got the door open.
“Riga, I’m sorry I put that big bruise on you, I didn’t know it was you on that horse. I have something for it.” I reached into my belt, and pulled a small health potion. I was running low on the things, most of Jurger’s stock was magicka potions. I gave her half the vial, and then stood to take off my cloak.
“Riga, if I cut your hands free, will you please stay still? If you make a move, Hemjar will cut you down before you make it two steps.” I drew my knife. Riga nodded, fearful of the blade, but didn’t do anything rash. Once she was free, I helped her to take off her soaked jacket.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, what was your name?” I looked to the only other woman. She was wearing the robes of a mage.
“Master Mirabelle.” She answered.
“Could you help her get out of that soaked shirt? She’ll freeze before long. You all give her some decency, come on.” I looked to Hemjar and Jorman. They turned, Hemjar was giving me a foul eye as he did it.
“She’s covered.” Mirabelle spoke. Somehow, Riga’s hair had not only been unfrozen, but was perfectly dry. A soft glow was dying in Mirabelle’s hand. The girl was wrapping my cloak tightly about herself.
“Riga, my question now. When I left to hunt the horkers for your father, you came out to wish us luck. You looked really nervous, I thought it was just that you’d taken a liking to the twins. You knew that bandit ambush was waiting for us, didn’t you?” I asked her softly.
“I didn’t. Not for sure. The last man that came with a letter for me to deliver said that I shouldn’t go west for a few days. I couldn’t say anything, not… not with…” She started softly crying again.
“What did they have over your head?” I asked, I was sure I already knew.
“They’d been giving me spell books. If the town found out…” She was back into full throated sobs.
“Then you would shame your father, and be an outcast. It’d ruin your family, break your father’s heart. You couldn’t do that right after you’d found out about Olam.” I spoke as kindly as I could, putting a hand on her knee. She nodded with her hands on her face. I turned to look to Hemjar and Jorman. The mountain looked disdainful, but the housecarl had a sympathetic look.
“You should have come to us Riga. A few spell books is nothing, you know that Angven was nearly killed by the bandits? If it hadn’t been for Johannes, both the twins would have surely died. It was their hunting party that was attacked, not us.” Jorman spoke coldly. He may feel bad for the girl, but he wasn’t going to let her off the hook. It was best that he handle it, rather than Hemjar. The brute clearly didn’t have many reservations about hurting people. Riga looked to me for confirmation, I gave her a nod, and she went back to her sobs.
“Riga, do you have anything else that might help us find the men responsible?” I asked. She was inconsolable. I tried to coax her into talking a few more times, but she wouldn’t budge.
“We’re not going to get any more out of her. What do we do? Leave her at home, bring her to the Jarl?” I looked to Jorman.
“She comes with us back to the Jarl. Master Mirabelle, I don’t mean to ask for such trivial things…” Jorman looked to the witch, who was already drying Riga’s clothes with her magic.
“She won’t make it back to the Jarl without them, and you paid me for my magic. My end of this bargain is done. You, Johannes, make sure they don’t burn the poor girl for cantrips, would you?” She looked me over, and gave a short, sharp glance to Hemjar.
“I’m a hired blade, Master Mirabelle, it isn’t my place to interfere.” I tried to give her a subtle wink. She scowled, with a slight nod of her head.
“Hired blades must have some code to live by. Good night.” She handed Riga’s clothes back to the girl, and strode out. Hemjar gave her a nasty scowl as the door closed.
“Damned mages. I’ll bring the horses.” Hemjar left just behind Mirabelle. That left Jorman, Riga and I alone.
“Johannes, it may not be your place to interfere as a hired blade, but the Jarl and I have spoken on it. You’ve found yourself in the middle of this Hold’s trouble twice, without meaning to. I’m not so superstitious, but to have walked out of the snow, done such great service for the people…” Jorman made a side eye to Riga.
“It does seem odd, especially given that I’ve survived it.” I tried to grin. Jorman nodded.
“The Jarl has many troubles to deal with, and a lack of men suited for them. Hemjar is not subtle, Molnen has other duties, and my place is at the Jarl’s side. We need a hound to run this scum down before things slip too far, and you seem the man for it, if you’d take the job.” Jorman offered.
“Why me? I understand that from the outside, it looks like I just keep whacking bandits and mages and spies, but you know the real case. I didn’t go looking for any of it except for tonight.” My eyes went over to Riga. She’d stopped crying, but was now staring silently into the fire.
“You know justice. You’ve dealt honestly with the Jarl, you’ve done the right thing at every turn, even if it cost you, or was hard, or wasn’t your place. Olam, saving Angven, just now with Riga. If it was as simple as turning a rabid dog loose, the Jarl would just send Hemjar, but that won’t do. He wouldn’t have gotten anything useful tonight, you did. Your work.” Jorman pointed out.
“It’s not just about catching the bandits. I see your point. Hemjar would probably do more damage than the criminals if the Jarl set him to the job. People don’t appreciate it when the law burns down their farm. So, you want me to join the Jarl’s service? A sheriff, or law man, something?” It fit into my own plans nicely, so long as I wasn’t stuck to it.
“The Jarl’s First Ranger. In better times, they were responsible for the safety of the roads, mostly trolls and ice wraith attacks, the occasional fugitive. They have the authority of the Jarl to enforce the law, and raise a force to help them.” It spurred thoughts of my past life, distant histories of other rangers raising a posse to hunt down the dastardly bank robbers.
“I’ll need to talk to the Jarl, but I think I’ll take the job. I have a few conditions of course.” I agreed.
“Understandable. I think I hear the horses. You’d best take Riga on your sled.” Jorman turned for the door, leaving just the traumatized girl and my self.
“Riga, you have to come along now.” I walked towards her. She nodded once and stood, having gotten her dry clothes on under the cloak.
“They’re going to hang me.” Her voice was completely flat.
“No they aren’t, I won’t let them. Your father is an important man around here, if it weren’t for him, half the town would go hungry. Things will be okay, just keep your head down.” I started to steer her towards the door, but she didn’t need me to. The trip back to the Jarl’s longhouse was quiet. Most of the revelers had already gone home by the time we arrived, but there was one man still sitting at the benches. When his eyes found his daughter being marched into the hall, the shouting started.