VII

Alberic undid the straps of his pack and let it fall to the ground before massaging his shoulders. He looked up to the sky to absentmindedly observe a flock of birds. It was not one of those cursed vultures that infested the Elsweyr desert but a solitary crane that hovered in the wind, and the young Breton found the sight curiously soothing.

Four days had passed since the sandstorm and the caravan was still making slow progress. To Alberic's surprise, the weather was getting cooler as they descended south. A few timid clouds were now gliding across the blue sky and a light breeze was blowing from the east.

The landscape had started to change too. Sand dunes and rock formations were now giving way to vast plains of dry grass and leafy trees were beginning to appear. Soon the desert disappeared and was replaced by more lush green vegetation that looked like a small tropical jungle. Flowering hibiscus, mahogany, ficus, acacias and palm trees of all shapes and sizes could now be seen along the road. And most importantly, there was water. Small streams meandered through the trees to form reed-lined ponds where water lilies and lotuses floated lazily. These watering holes were perfect places to stop the caravan for lunch and dinner.

This temperate climate and green landscape were not the only surprising changes for Alberic. Princess Shazira's behaviour and mood had also changed somehow. Her wagon had disappeared during the storm and she had been installed in one of the goods carts in the middle of the convoy. The young khajiit took advantage of the situation to spend more time in the open air, walking with the caravaneers and even helping them with their tasks. Of course, she was still under the constant and discreet surveillance of Captain Tasarr'Do and his men, but she was able to let her curiosity run free and fully savoured this form of freedom.

Shazira had also stopped bothering or provoking Alberic. She was more cordial and friendly in his presence and they even talked at times, although the young Breton remained suspicious of her. He still did not trust the khajiits and kept a constant eye on his belongings when the bivouac was set up.

It was a Morndas of Earthfire[1] when they set up camp for lunch. The caravaneers watered the horses and camels in a nearby pond while a fire was lit to prepare the meal. The smell of grilled meat soon made Alberic hungry. He felt in a much better mood and was more lively now that he could enjoy the milder weather. There was no more sand to get into his clothes and he could quench his thirst whenever he wanted to because there was plenty of water now. And, to top it all off, Captain Flavia seemed to be more flexible towards him.

So it was with a serene smile that he unpacked his things to take advantage of the lunch break. It was then that Gunnar took him aside with a broad smile on his lips.

- "Come on, boy," the Nord said with his usual good humour. "It's time."

*  *  *  *  *

Steel met steel with violence in a metallic clang. Sword and axe danced and clashed in a furious ballet of attacks, parries and feints. Alberic ducked just in time to avoid a high attack and the axe whistled over his head.

- "Nice dodge !" Gunnar laughed and congratulated him.

The young breton took the opportunity to back away from his opponent, who tried to mow him down with his second weapon. The axe only stirred air and Alberic had plenty of time to get back on guard.

For half an hour the two mercenaries had been sparring in the middle of the camp. Several khajiits had gathered to watch the training session. It was a welcome distraction after the last few days in the desert, and all bets were off as to how long the young man would last against the giant Nord[2]. Aware of his youth and inexperience, Flavia insisted that Alberic train regularly, and what better partner than a loud, brawling barbarian. Despite his size and age, Gunnar was incredibly fast and had an innate knowledge of hand-to-hand combat. His movements were precise and perfectly measured, forcing his opponent to remain on his guard at all times.

Facing the two axes of the Nord, Alberic wielded a long sword made of Cyrodilian steel straight from the forges of the imperial city[3]. The weapon was still a bit heavy in his hands, but he felt increasingly familiar with its weight and shape. The young Breton used his small size and agility to hold his own against Gunnar. He was content to dodge his brutal assaults while slipping in quick counterattacks that his opponent parried with ease.

The difference in level between the two fighters was obvious. Alberic was out of breath and his muscles were beginning to stiffen under fatigue while his opponent continued to string together attacks with the same vigour and a ferocious smile on his lips. The Nord was enjoying the fight, even if it was just for training. Flavia watched the fight attentively, her attention all focused on the young breton.

- "Watch your balance !" she corrected him. "Or you'll bite the dust again."

Despite his many training sessions, the captain still found something wrong with his style. Alberic wasn't a born warrior after all, but he was a quick learner. In any case, he had to finish this fight as soon as possible if he didn't want to collapse from fatigue.

Gunnar took a first step in his direction to attack. The young Breton had anticipated this move, the Nord having the annoying habit of rushing headlong without thinking. Alberic took him by surprise by doing the same, reducing the distance between them to just a few steps. Surprised by this manoeuvre, the Nord giant stopped in his tracks to deliver a first downward blow. Alberic had expected that too. The young man swung on one leg and the axe passed so close to him that he could clearly see the spiral patterns engraved on the steel. He continued his spinning movement to get as close as possible to his opponent. He hoped to use the Nord's large size to his advantage by getting so close that he would have difficulty handling his weapons.

The effect of surprise seemed to work because Gunnar found himself momentarily distraught by this tactic. Alberic let himself be carried away by his momentum and was about to strike a blow with his sword in the lower back of his target when the Nord dropped one of his axe. He grabbed the boy by the wrist just before his blow was to be delivered and his strong grip stopped the attack dead in its tracks. The young breton tried to pull his weapon away but Gunnar was much stronger than he was. The nord gave him an amused smile before striking him on the nose with the pommel of his second axe. Alberic collapsed to the ground holding his face with both hands, grunting and whimpering in pain.

- "Nice try, boy!" Gunnar laughed out loud. "But you're still dead in the end."

He gave him back his sword while the young Breton stood up, muttering some insults. His nose was bleeding profusely, the Nord having the annoying habit of not holding back his blows, even for simple training.

- "If you hadn't tried to pull your sword out of the way when I grabbed it, you could have easily dodged my blow." Gunnar picked up his axe as he lectured him. "In a real fight, it is better to give up your weapon than your life. That is why many warriors carry two weapons."

Alberic nodded as he sheathed his sword. These training sessions were very beneficial to him, even if he would have preferred a partner with a less brutal pedagogy. As the fight was over, Flavia approached the two fighters.

- "That's enough for today. You've made progress, Al'. " She gave him a stern look though. "But you still have a lot to learn."

- "Yes, captain." The young breton spoke in a nasal voice with its broken nose.

- "Mmmh... you’re bleeding a lot." She frowned. "Your clothes have seen better days and you're starting to smell like a goat. You'd better wash up a bit before we head back."

The young mercenary nodded as he walked away, leaving his superior and the Nord giant to discuss his performance of the day.

The caravan had stopped near a large body of water fed by a series of streams and now used as a watering place for the horses. But Alberic knew that there were several ponds situated a little further upstream. When the convoy stopped for lunch or at night, the guards and mercenaries would make reconnaissance of the surroundings to warn of any danger. It was during one of these patrols that the young Breton had discovered a series of natural pools formed by water runoff and hidden by the dense vegetation of the jungle.

After these weeks spent in the desert, a good bath could only do him good.

*  *  *  *  *

The feeling of the cool water on his skin was invigorating and Alberic sighed with relief as he plunged into the small pool. He was a little away from the camp and large water bushes concealed him while bathing. It was therefore in complete privacy that the young Breton could relax and indulge in this brief moment of relaxation. He had placed his belongings on a rock and kept a watchful eye on them, rubbing his skin vigorously to remove sweat and sand. The cool water also helped to stop the bleeding from his nose and he soon set about removing the bloodstains from his clothes and armour.

He was still cleaning his things when he heard a distant exclamation and the sound of diving into water. He immediately stopped to listen to the vegetation around him. He heard splashing and muffled chatter to his left and frowned as he picked up his sword. He moved silently to the edge of the pond to push aside the bushes and look towards the source of the noise. He stood still and opened his eyes wide before what he discovered.

About ten meters away was another pool, much larger than his and fed by a small waterfall that ran down a rocky slope. Half a dozen figures were bathing in it and Alberic had no trouble recognising the khajiits with their long feline tails. Another detail, however, caught his attention. There were only women.

It was the first time he had seen khajiits without their clothes on, and even so, he found it difficult to see them as naked with the fur covering their bodies. Although physically very different from human or elven women, they nevertheless shared certain commonalities. Their figures were slim and slender, almost athletic, and their movements were marked by a feline grace. They also had all the physical attractions of women of other races, with their ample breasts, long hair and slender hips. While Alberic was initially curious about these strange people, he was also aware that he was playing voyeur. But fascination, and perhaps envy as well, quickly silenced his scruples[4].

The young mercenary recognised several of the Khajiit bathers as members of the caravan. Some of these women were also guards of Captain Tasarr'Do, which explained why they had strayed from the security of the camp. They had probably had the same idea as him and were taking advantage of the abundance of water to clean the sweat and sand from their coats[5]. They were swimming, chatting or playing splash in a light and relaxed atmosphere. It was a strangely relaxing sight to watch after the arduous journey through the desert and Alberic allowed himself to be drawn into this more or less innocent contemplation.

It was then that he noticed a more familiar figure with white fur spotted with black. His heart missed a beat as he recognised Princess Shazira among the bathers. She was as naked as the others and wore a wide, delighted smile, enjoying the welcome coolness of the water like everyone else. Alberic's gaze fell on her curves, barely out of her teens. Although younger and smaller than those around her, Shazira was still a woman and, like all Khajiits, her movements and figure were as graceful as they were feline.

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The young man felt uncomfortable at the idea of leering at her in this way and ended up blushing. He was about to look away when a slight movement in the undergrowth near the large pool caught his attention. Sword still in hand, he stood ready to intervene despite the fact that he was naked as a jaybird. He had expected to see a wild animal emerge from the bushes and was reassured to discover only a simple khajiit. It was one of the caravaneers who, well hidden behind the vegetation, seemed to be enjoying the show too. The cat-man, however, seemed to have far fewer scruples than the young breton and was peeking without moderation.

Good for him, thought Alberic, who felt he had seen enough of this. Quickly and without a sound, he get out of the water and collected his things. He took a few steps into the jungle before putting on his clothes and armour. He was just buckling his belt when he heard a loud exclamation and the screams of outraged women behind him. Clearly the meddling khajiit had been caught red-handed and it was time for the young Breton to get out of there before he found himself implicated in some way.

Without a thought or a backward glance, he returned to the camp with an amused smile on his lips.

*  *  *  *  *

The rest of the day passed very quietly and the caravan set off again an hour later, after the men and the animals had had a rest. They continued southwards, still surrounded by the dense vegetation, which was beginning to become suffocating now that it was echoing with the cry of the animals and the rumours of the forest.

This landscape did not last, however, for the next day they reached the Pellitine region, where there were now vast grassy plains. The vegetation was much less dense, but it was as green and lively as ever. The first traces of civilisation also began to appear in the form of isolated farms and dwellings. A few travellers, alone or in groups, could be seen walking along the main paved road. If they had not been Khajiits, Alberic could have thought he was in another country because the change of scenery was so radical.

The land was more fertile in Pellitine and he could see an increasing number of farms and agricultural holdings. These were terraced with sophisticated irrigation systems and most of them grew a strange plant that the young Breton was discovering for the first time. They looked like tall, thick bamboo stalks with long, green, pointed leaves growing from the top. After a brief conversation with the convoy master, old Benazarr, Alberic learned that these were moon sugar cane farms, the treasure of Elsweyr. The young Breton was always surprised by the locals' great love for this strange spice and the old Khajiit spoke of these farms as if they were the most beautiful places in the world.

The guards of the convoy were more vigilant now that they were out of the desert, as the return to civilisation made an attack by bandits more likely. The high production of moon sugar cane made the region a hub for banditry and skooma smuggling[6]. Fortunately, the day passed without any incident and the caravan stopped for the night in a modest caravanserai set up on the side of the road.

No sooner had the khajiits started to set up camp than another merchant caravan turned up the road in the opposite direction. They set up camp nearby and the two groups quickly mingled as night fell. They were also khajiits with their caravans, camels and carts filled with junk and various goods. Soon the two camps became one, echoing with the warm laughter and lively conversations of the cat people. Some were playing dice or cards, sitting on large colourful mats with piles of money piled up for betting. Others were gathered around a small table with a hookah on top, which they took turns smoking while chatting in their native language. A large fire had been built to prepare the meal that the two caravans would surely exchange as a sign of hospitality. There were also a few Khajiit children running and playing, shouting among the tents and caravans. Alberic was almost knocked over several times by these noisy and energetic little fur balls running through the camp.

The young Breton preferred to stay away, in the company of his fellow mercenaries while observing the activity of the camp with curiosity. The atmosphere was warm and friendly and, for a while, Alberic forgot his distrust of these people and their dishonest reputation. He felt the same fascination he had as a child. He had become accustomed to the presence of so many khajiits near him and it was with politeness that he declined the traditional dish of moon sugar shared among the caravaneers.

- "Do we know who they are?" he finally asked.

- "Merchants, as far as I know," Gunnar replied between bites of his stew.

Sitting on rugs, the mercenaries enjoyed the evening from a distance while eating their meal. Captain Flavia had instructed them to remain vigilant and not to mingle with the festivities, but that didn't stop Alberic from being curious.

- "I know they are merchants, smartass. But where do they come from? Where are they going and what are they selling? And then there are children with them... are they families?"

- "Who knows?" Flavia shrugged. "These people are always on the road. "

- "They're Baandari, they're from Corinth and they're heading for Orcrete," a voice echoed behind them.

The mercenaries turned their heads to find Princess Shazira standing nearby, sitting on a cart, her legs flailing in the air. Curious as usual, she couldn't resist interjecting herself into the conversation.

- "They mostly sell charms and trinkets. At least, that's what they say..." She gave them a knowing wink. "I bet their carts are full of skooma and sugar moon hidden in double-bottomed crates. "

- "Good evening prin... Miss Shazira." Alberic corrected himself under Flavia's stern gaze.

- "Call me Shazi," the young khajiit insisted as she jumped from the cart. "I'm not much for formalities and courtesies, Alberrric."

She had this strange habit of rolling the r in his name when she said it.

- "Are you by yourself?" asked Flavia, raising an eyebrow.

- "Of course not." The princess sat down in the middle of the mercenaries with a broad smile. "Since you are with me."

The former legionnaire nodded at this answer. After all, they had been hired to watch over her in the same way that Captain Tasarr's guards would.

- "What are baandaris?", Alberic asked, still curious.

- "That's what we call the travelling Khajiit caravans[7]. They go from town to town without ever settling down, vagabonds always on the road in search of profit and adventure. " Her feline gaze shifted to the caravanners with a dreamy smile. "In a way, they are the soul of my people."

- "Wanderers? That doesn't sound very glorious to me..."

- "You are wanderers too."

- "We? We are mercenaries, that's different," the young Breton defended himself.

- "You are far from home. You never settle down and you're always travelling to find work. What's the difference with them?"

The young man was about to answer but he couldn't find the words. Flavia smiled at his hesitation. It had to be said that the princess' arguments were eloquent, to say the least.

- "Where do you come from anyway?" she said with a curious look in her eye. "You smooth-skins[8] all look alike, but you have different accents. "

- "I come from Highrock," Alberic replied. "From a small village near Wayrest."

- "Highrrrock? They say it rains there all the time.[9]" Shazira remembered what she had read in her books. "Why did you leave your village? "

- "I was bored there... just bored." He looked away, clearly unwilling to elaborate on the subject.

The princess turned her curious gaze to Gunnar. The Nord giant was eating with appetite and still with little manners. So it was with his mouth full that he answered her.

- "Me? I'm from Skyrim. Riftwood to be more precise."

- "Skyrim? With the cold white sand?"

- "The white san... oh, you mean the snow?" He laughs heartily. "That's right, it snows most of the year there."

- "And the Throat of the World? They say it's the highest mountain in all of Tamriel?" the young khajiit continued with fascination.

- "The highest, yes," the Nord replied proudly. "That is where the first men appeared. Where the sky blows on the earth!"

- "It looks beautiful... I would love to see it one day." She had stars in her eyes. "And why did you leave?"

- "Well... how can I put it..." Gunnar scratched his beard. "One day when I was completely drunk, I bet my brother that I would steal the horse of the Jarl of Whiterun."

- "And... did you?"

- "You bet I did!" He puffed his chest out. "I took his horse from the castle stables and fled with half the town's guards on my tail! I triple galloped past my brother's house to show him I'd won and then rode south across the border to Cyrodil!"

- "And all this for... a bet?" Shazira looked as surprised as she did incredulous.

- "Yes, little kitten!"

The young khajiit then turned her gaze to Captain Flavia who was smiling as she cleaned her weapons.

- "The only part of his story that is true is that he was indeed drunk. In fact, he was so drunk when he left the tavern that he mistook the horses for trolls and slaughtered them all. By the next day, there wasn't a single horse left standing in the jarl's stables and that big idiot was on the run."

- "Do you have to ruin my story every time?" the nord grumbled, trying to ignore Shazira's laughter.

- "And you?" the khajiit questioned after regaining her composure, "Are you from Cyrodil?"

- "Indeed. From the imperial city. I joined the legion at the age of sixteen before being promoted to captain in a scouting regiment. I was the best archers in the legion at the time."

- "Was? You're not anymore?"

The mercenary captain lifted her eye patch and the princess winced as she discovered the empty eye socket that lurked beneath.

- "That eye patch isn't just for show, you know." She smiled, amused by the khajiit's reaction. "After that, I left the legion but I couldn't get used to a normal life. So I decided to continue the military career but as a mercenary."

- "You must have seen a lot."

- "A lot... maybe even too much."

- "And... the high elf?"

The young khajiit pointed to the tent where the mercenary mage had locked himself up since the beginning of the evening.

- "Where did he come from?"

- "Master Imril... I don't know," Flavia admitted. "I know almost nothing about him, except that he's a mage who specializes in ice magic. He's probably from the Summerset isles, like all of his kind.[10]"

The princess drew her legs up towards her and rested her chin on her knees, looking absentmindedly at the stars.

- "The places you speak of sound so beautiful... I would so love to travel beyond Elsweyr," she sighed. "I envy you."

- "You've never been out of Elsweyr?", Alberic asked in turn.

- "I never even got out of Rimmen... or I was too young to remember."

- "How come?"

- "My father didn't want me to leave the palace grounds."

- "Why not?"

- "I don't know..."

The young Breton understood better Shazira's fascination with the Baandari caravanners. She must have had a sad and isolated childhood, kept away from other young people of her age. Was it because of the strange appearance of her left eye? He now felt some empathy for her despite the trouble she had caused him.

- "What's going on over there?" the young mercenary asked, as much out of curiosity as to draw the princess out of her thoughts.

Alberic pointed to a group of khajiits sitting in a circle around one of them. The latter, standing on his feet, seemed to be telling a story in his native tongue, and his audience, young and old alike, was listening with great attention.

- "It's a moon singer," she replied with a smile. "They are the keepers of Khajiit history. They tell and sing the legends of our people. "

- "And what does he say?"

- "He tells... the story of Khunzar'Ri and the ogres."

- "Who is this Khunzar'Ri?"

- "You don't know Khunzar'Ri?" She opened her eyes wide in bewilderment, as if the young breton had just said something absurd. "He is the greatest of all Khajiit heroes, a true legend. I used to love reading his stories when I was a kitten. What did you read?"

- "Me? I... I can't read," he finally answered with an embarrassed look.

He expected her to laugh at him and tease him more, but she just gave him a big warm smile.

- "It's not a big deal. If you want, I'll tell you the stories of Khunzar'Ri."

- "Maybe... yes, why not," Alberic agreed, nodding.

They chatted for a long time throughout the evening. The princess let her curiosity run wild, asking the mercenaries about their countries of origin and the things they had seen on their travels. She never ceased to be amazed, and each new story made her want to travel beyond the sands of Elsweyr. Gunnar was delighted to tell his adventures and he did so with great gestures and comical imitations. The Nord did not hesitate to exaggerate the content of his stories, but this seemed to please the young khajiit who listened to him with fascination. Even Flavia, who was usually not very talkative, told several of her adventures or battles in which she had participated. Alberic had never seen her so talkative and it was funny for him because he was more used to hearing her give orders than tell stories.

The night was already well underway when two Baandari khajiits decided to revive the atmosphere of the camp. They picked up musical instruments that looked like long, wide planks of carved wood with wires of different sizes stretched across and placed them on their laps. A few moments later, their clawed fingers plucked and strummed the strings with dexterity and the night was soon filled with the sound of musical notes. The khajiits had gathered in a circle around the fire and the first voice began to sing, quickly joined by a dozen others.

It was an old song popular with the Khajiit nomads, and the singers swayed their heads and shoulders in rhythm. A few of them stood up and began to dance around the large fire, their figures vividly outlined in the light of the flames. Their movements were fascinating and hypnotic to Alberic, who watched the sinuous movements of their feline tails and slender limbs. Soon the spectators were clapping their hands in rhythm with the dancers.

- "And you, Alberrric?" Shazira's voice drew him from his contemplation. "You hardly say anything. Don't you have anything to say?"

- "This is the first time I've travelled so far from home," the young Breton replied, helping himself to a new portion of stew. "I don't have much to say."

- "Then you will soon have a story to tell."

- "What do you mean?"

The young khajiit gave a knowing look as she gave him a little shove. She gestured with her head to one of the female dancers around the fire. She had the features of a panther and her fur was as black as ebony. She was dressed in a short, almost transparent dress. Small jewels hanging from her wrists and ankles jumped and glittered with each of her dancing steps and her golden eyes glared at the young mercenary.

- "She's been staring at you all night," she said, amused. "You should go talk to her under the stars afterwards... but watch out for the claws."

- "Uh I... khajiit women are not my type."

He was surprised and embarrassed by such tactlessness, especially in someone of her rank. Fortunately for him, the warmth of the nearby fire hid the redness in his cheeks.

- "Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow before leaning over to whisper in his ear. "You didn't seem to mind watching us naked under the waterfall, though."

Alberic nearly choked on his food and coughed violently, causing the princess to laugh out loud.

- "Don't worry, I'm the only one who noticed." She winked at him before continuing, still in a low voice. "I won't tell anyone... unless you're mean to me."

With a broad smile on her face, she rose to her feet and joined the circle of dancers. Behind her, Alberic took large gulps of water to stop his coughing fit. When he had calmed down, he looked back at Shazira who was waving her limbs and tail to the music. He wondered if all the Khajiit princesses were as cheeky and wild as she was.

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Notes:

[1] Monday of september

[2] Gambling is very popular among the Khajiits, more so than any other race in Tamriel.

[3] The Imperial City, also called Cyrodil, is the capital of the Cyrodil Empire.

[4] Interracial relationships are not uncommon in Tamriel. Furthermore, the Khajiits are not very particular about the race of their partners. For them, passion and love outweigh any other form of consideration or propriety.

[5] Khajiits are very concerned with their appearance and image and may spend hours washing or brushing their fur for purely aesthetic reasons.

[6] Skooma is a drink made from distilled moon sugar. Terribly addictive, it is forbidden in most of Tamriel. The Khajiit laws are, however, much more lax with regard to this drug.

[7] In the Khajiit language, the Baandaris are the caravans of nomadic merchants that travel through Tamriel. They are named after Baan Dar, the pariah god, patron of thieves and beggars, whose cult is very popular in Elsweyr.

[8] A more or less derogatory term used by Khajiits to refer to non-Khajiits.

[9] The region of Highrock is known for its particularly wet climate and is subject to violent storms.

[10] High elves rarely leave their homeland and many who live in Tamriel are often exiles.