Harald knew exactly where Little Vivec was, of course. He’d been past the entryway with its tattered but colorful banners many times on his way to visit Dardeh and Roggi, but he’d never gone into the town. He’d had no reason to, and it looked like a private enough place that one shouldn’t enter unless invited.
Well, he’d been invited. By someone else, not by the citizens of Little Vivec; but he had a valid reason to go there now, and so go in he would. It wasn’t just that, either. He had to admit that he was tremendously curious about what he might learn there.
It was beautiful when he passed the Guardian Stones, but off against the horizon he could see clouds moving into the mountains, threatening cold and damp later on. He made good time down the shoreline. Nobody wanted to challenge a large man with a nasty-looking shield strapped to his arm, and he had to thank Roggi for that bit of insight. It would, after all, serve as a first line of defense if something attacked before he could get his sword drawn and his helmet in place.
And hugs are not what I’m looking for out here.
Little Vivec had been built atop a group of small islands in the middle of Lake Ilinalta, with long, curving boardwalks connecting the shore to the islands and the islands to each other. They weren’t large islands at all, each barely big enough to serve as a foundation for a single structure. The largest of them had a small farm patch next to the home there; but as Harald approached, taking in the layout of the place, he couldn’t imagine how such a garden plot could supply the needs of whatever community was here. They must do a great deal of trading with Riverwood and Falkreath for their staples. What they traded he could only imagine. The thing in most ample supply here would be fish.
The first building he came to was two stories tall and had a general store sign hanging outside. Perhaps he’d been wrong about needing an invitation to visit; after all, stores didn’t stay in business unless business came to them. He knocked lightly on the door and made his way inside.
He then took a moment to become thoroughly confused.
A Dunmer woman was busy dusting the shelves and arranging wares. A young Nord boy and a shaggy dog played in the corner.
A Dunmer runs the store?
Harald stopped short for a moment, as it dawned on him how thoroughly he had managed to miss the completely obvious. And then he was embarrassed at himself.
Of course she’s a Dunmer. Of course. It’s Little Vivec, named after the former city in Morrowind. Or maybe named after the former god Vivec. Either way it’s Dunmer. How could I be so stupid?
She looked at him and smiled, clearly undisturbed by having such an obvious Nord in her establishment.
Well, it would be silly of her to be visibly distressed, wouldn’t it? She needs to make coin like everyone else.
So much for being noble. It seems as though I managed to make the same kind of racist assumptions that my father is accused of. Dardeh would tan my hide for that. Or at least he would if Roggi didn’t get to me first.
“Welcome to Selyse’s Tradehouse,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
Harald smiled back. He couldn’t take back his unfortunate first reaction but at least he didn’t need to make things worse. “Well for one thing, I’d like to know more about this village. I’ve never visited before. I guess I thought it would be rude. But I have no idea about the place.”
“Looking for gossip, eh?”
He started to protest that he got most of his gossip up at the other end of the lake, but wisely stopped himself. He simply nodded. “More or less.”
“Alright,” she said. “what would you like to know?”
“Why is this place called Little Vivec? I can guess, but I’ve been known to guess very wrongly.”
She grimaced. “Ugh. By Azura. You had to ask, didn’t you?”
“Uh…I’m sorry?”
“No, it’s alright. Just hearing the words gives me a headache. You can thank Belvadyr for that one. He just thought it was so clever. Everyone else hated it, but he pitched such a fit about it.”
Harald couldn’t help but respond to the long-suffering humor in her voice. “You…don’t get along with Belvadyr, I take it?”
She grinned. “Nobody gets along with Belvadyr. We take him about as seriously as a mudcrab.”
Harald laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve met some pretty feisty mudcrabs. They can look really cute all hunkered down next to the water until they nip off a finger – or at least try to.”
“Yes. Not quite as seriously as a mudcrab then. At least they have claws.” She smirked. “Even his wife thinks he’s a buffoon. I guess she doesn’t mind, and neither do the twins. Yes. Both of them.”
“Who else lives here? It didn’t look very busy from outside.”
“Besides Albert and I? There are the twins, Taren and Toren. They handle a lot of our labor. There’s Bal-Ran, who hunts, fishes, and protects the village. Velyna’s…around.”
Interesting.
“And Belvadyr struts around like a Jarl,” she continued, “when if we had a leader at all it would obviously be Bal-Ran. Bal’s too shy to admit it, though.” She laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean ‘strong and silent.’”
“Thank you,” Harald said with a grin. “Nobody else? Nobody like, say, a visitor from another province?”
Well let’s see how obvious I can be. Also, I’m intrigued. Albert over here is definitely not Dunmer. And she calls this Bal-Ran ‘Bal.’ She’s also very pretty.
I’d best not let Qaralana anywhere near that thought. I do value my skin.
She smirked. “I’d run a pretty unsuccessful business if I didn’t.”
He laughed. “Yes, I had that thought on the way in. I’ve never come here before, and it never occurred to me that I could. And yet here you are.”
Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m looking for someone. He’s described as someone powerful and dangerous, though that doesn’t give me a lot to go on. It could describe half the people in Falkreath.”
Her voice changed. She was much more formal as she said “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Sorry. I have a strict policy of customer confidentiality.”
Harald sighed. “Of course. I can respect that.”
“Good,” she said, her tone almost cold. He winced. It had been so pleasant chatting with her before he’d opened his mouth about his task.
“I was just hoping for a lead, that’s all. I hope I didn’t offend you.” A thought occurred to him. She’s going to see through this like the glass in a window, but I have nothing to lose. “Listen, I didn’t mean to pry. Let me make it up to you. Is there anything you need help with?”
One of her shapely eyebrows rose.
Yep, she smells a skeever, alright.
She may have seen through him, but apparently he didn’t smell nearly as skeever-like as he’d feared. She pursed her lips for a moment and then nodded.
“As a matter of fact, I could actually use some help in restocking some supplies. What do you say, want to make some quick gold?”
As he had in the Sleeping Giant, Harald needed to stifle the urge to refuse the money. It wouldn’t do – it seriously wouldn’t do – to let on that he was the High King’s son and didn’t need it. Nor would it do for him to offend her further by refusing the task he’d offered to do. I’ll just agree to do the job, and we can talk about funding later.
“Certainly. I have to continue looking for this man anyway, and I can keep an eye out for your supplies as I go. I’d be happy to help.”
“Great! Give me just a moment.” She stepped over to the counter and looked around, eyeing her supplies as she took notes, and then handed him a paper. “Here’s a list of what I need. Bring me those and you’re three hundred septims richer. Plus a bonus for quality.” She started to leave and then turned to grin at him again. “And don’t even think about haggling. I’m overpaying as it is.”
Harald laughed. “Yes ma’am. Or no, ma’am.” He chuckled. “No haggling. I’ll come see you again soon.”
“Ugh,” she snorted. “I can tell you’re young, but ma’am? What a way to tell a woman she’s old.”
“I didn’t mean…” he started to protest, worried that he’d offended her again.
“Don’t worry about it… well, I’d add your name but you didn’t tell me what it is.”
“It’s Harald, ma’am. Er, miss. Ahhhh, I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”
It was Selyse’s turn to laugh. “It’s fine, Harald. And I’m Dunmer. Of course I’m older than you. Don’t fret.”
He stepped outside to look over the list. It was lengthy. “Ten each of lavender and tundra cotton, five nirnroot. That’s pretty easy,” he murmured to himself. “Five wolf pelts shouldn’t be too hard, either. Stupid things are everywhere. But venison?” He scratched his head. “I’m not the hunter, Chip is. Well, we’ll see what can be done.” He peered up at the sky. “And I guess we’re doing it in the rain if I don’t get moving. Those clouds look heavy.”
Before he left Little Vivec, though, he wanted to see whether he could learn anything from any of the other citizens of the place. Across a short walkway he saw two Dunmer of a similar shape and size, just outside the lone house that fit on that island. Selyse had mentioned twins. This had to be them.
One of the men was leaving the yard, so Harald intercepted him. “Hello,” he said. “I just came from speaking to Selyse so I’m guessing you’re one of the twins she mentioned. And which one are you?”
This is the uncanny thing about Dunmer, he thought. A person can’t tell how old they are unless they’re tremendously old! This could be a boy or a middle-aged mer and I can’t tell.
“I’m Toren. The useful Darrosa twin. So if you ever need to tell us apart, just go ‘which one is actually being productive?’ Then you’ll know.”
Harald tried not to snort as he laughed. “Your brother isn’t really that lazy, is he?”
“If Taren had his way he’d lie in bed all day and be doted on by naked human girls. So yeah. Pretty damn lazy.”
Harald snickered. “I suppose a guy can dream. Listen… has anyone unusual passed through here lately?”
“Selyse’s shop gets pretty good traffic, and Bal-Ran memorizes every face that glances our way. If you’re looking for someone, you should ask them.”
“Thank you. I already spoke to Selyse but she couldn’t help me with that. I guess I’ll go find Bal-Ran.” He looked down at the list in his hand, and then back at Toren. “I’m going to be all around the area collecting some supplies. Do you have anything that needs doing? I’ll be coming back anyway.”
“Selyse sweet-talked you into being an errand boy? Well as it happens I could use a hand. I need some more lumber but I don’t have time to run to the Riverwood Mill myself. Mind dropping off an order there for me?”
“Sure. I’d be happy to.”
“Great!” Toren said, fishing in a pocket. “I already have the order written up. I just need you to drop it in the chest there by the mill.”
“I know the place.”
“Next time you’re here, I’ll have some septims for you.”
Harald just smiled and nodded this time. Maybe he could donate the septims to a good cause when he was finished.
He decided to check with the other Darrosa twin just for good measure. From behind, it could have been any Dunmer, but when he turned his head at Harald’s approach, Harald nearly jumped. They were in fact not just twins, but identical in every respect.
Except for the fact that this one has empty wine bottles all over the place and both volumes of ‘Lusty Argonian Maid’ at his feet. Hmm. Maybe Toren wasn’t exaggerating.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“You’re Taren, right?”
“Right. I’m Taren, the older, better-looking Darrosa twin. So if you ever need to tell us apart, just go ‘hey, which one is more handsome?’ Then you’ll know.”
Harald couldn’t help but chuckle. “You, um, look exactly alike to me. And not just because I’m a Nord and you’re a Dunmer. I know how to tell people apart. And you’re the spitting image of your brother.”
Taren sighed. “I can already tell you’re going to be no fun at all.”
“Has anyone unusual passed through the village lately?”
Taren kicked at one of the empty wine bottles. “Probably. Can’t say I remember all of them. Though there was this one merchant caravan with this Imperial girl who was just…” He paused for a moment as if remembering a particularly delectable meal. “Well, you really had to be there.”
Harald chuckled. “Wish I had been. Your brother mentioned something about human girls. So let me ask you this: do you need any help?”
“That would be a question for the less-handsome Darrosa. He’s the doing-things guy.”
“Very well,” Harald said. “Good to meet you.”
Harald walked past Toren, who was industriously chopping wood, and crossed in front of their house. There was another wooden bridge leading to a tiny cabin with a campfire outside. Walking across the bridge had his sights directly in line with Ilinalta’s Deep, the old sunken Imperial tower. It was also definitely getting darker, and not because of the time of day. They were in for a soaker.
There was no door on the front of the tiny cabin, so he peeked in as he passed its front. A simple bed covered in pelts had a chest at its foot and a beautifully-mounted saber cat head on the wall just above. A few more pelts warmed the floor nearby. A side table held a few personal effects and a shrine to Azura, backed by a colorful banner like the ones in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. But that was all there was. Harald couldn’t help feel every inch of difference between this modest shelter and his own relatively-opulent cabin in Windhelm.
When he turned back toward the lake he found himself being watched very carefully by the Dunmer who had to be Bal-Ran. There wasn’t any point in pretending that he hadn’t been snooping around, so he just walked over to the mer.
“I’m Harald,” he said simply. “Are you Bal-Ran?”
“I am,” he said, rising from the plain wooden chair on which he had been sitting.
“Can you tell me about this village?”
“I can,” he answered. His voice was very quiet, and very deep.
Harald waited for a moment for Bal-Ran to continue. He didn’t. He just stood there, observing Harald for what felt like a very long time.
Harald started to chuckle. He answered my question. That is what I asked him, after all.
“Ok,” he snickered. “Well done. I’ll ask a more meaningful question, in that case. Why is this place called Little Vivec?”
“Because we are a village of Dunmer on the water. And some found it… clever, to name it after another village of Dunmer on the water.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Harald nodded. “That’s what I figured. Do you find it clever?”
“I do not,” Bal-Ran said simply. “It is a village founded by the descendants of Dunmer refugees, yes. We tired of our treatment in Windhelm, and moved south.”
Harald felt as though he’d been slapped across the face, hard, though Bal-Ran’s words had been offered without any sort of rancor – just simple statements of fact. But he was talking about Harald’s father, of course.
He has to recognize me. He must know who I am.
They moved here to get away from us. To get away from Father, and Mother, and Galmar and Jorlief and…
…and all those old men who shout things at them in the streets. And Elda, who is the worst of all with her snide comments. She’ll take your money and make you feel like you don’t deserve to pay her.
This cannot stand. Father is not the monster they make him out to be. He isn’t!
He can’t be. I won’t allow it.
He was certain he must have had whatever color previously existed there drain from his face. He fought to keep his expression neutral, and flailed about for something to say that would not reveal how distressed he was.
“So besides Selyse, who offers goods or services for trade in this village?”
“I can teach you the way of the bow,” Bal-Ran said. “That is all, I’m afraid.”
“Well that’s nothing to sneeze at,” Harald said. “I’m a pretty terrible bowman, myself, and I really need to learn. Maybe when I’m done doing errands I’ll engage you as a tutor for a bit! That would be really helpful, actually!”
I probably sound like a babbling fool at this point. I’ve just been too surprised, too often, in too short a time span.
“Oh, wait, I wanted to ask you something else as well. Have any visitors passed through the village lately?”
Bal-Ran nodded. “Yes, but few of note.”
“Who was ‘of note’?”
Harald could tell Bal-Ran was getting suspicious – or possibly more suspicious, if he actually did recognize him. “A curious question,” he said. “More curious from a stranger.”
Harald sighed. “I understand. I’m just trying to help someone out. Another Dunmer, as it happens, though I don’t think that’s of any particular significance. Maybe. I’m not sure. So I’ll ask you, too: do you need help with anything?”
Bal-Ran peered at him through narrowed eyes for a moment before speaking. “Need, no. Desire, perhaps, if you think yourself a warrior.”
Harald smiled. “I do. A young one, to be certain, but a warrior nonetheless.”
“A group of bandits has been plaguing the woods nearby for weeks, sniffing for weakness. I made sure they found only arrows. Still, they linger. I cannot leave the village and hunt them if they are watching, but you could, in my place.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good. You have my thanks. I’ll mark their last known location on your map. Their leader wears an Orcish helm. Bring it to me as proof. I will know if it is his.”
“Of course! I’ll be back.” Harald turned back toward the Falkreath shoreline, looking at the location Bal-Ran had marked.
I know right where that is. It shouldn’t take me too long to get there. Who knows, maybe I’ll run across some wolves on the way.
I’m going to show these people that not all Nords from Windhelm are bad. This is my chance. I can’t make up for the things they’ve experienced there: clearly it was bad enough that they felt they had to leave, and that’s horrible. They should never have been made to feel that way. I’m going to do what I can to make some small amends.
It rained.
It started raining almost the instant he was back on the mainland. He’d intended to turn left, to visit the bandit camp before heading toward Riverwood. Instead, he darted to the right, looking for the slight shelter of the outbuildings at the nearby lumber mill and hoping to wait out at least the lightning, if not the entirety of the storm.
It’s a shame this isn’t an active mill, he thought as he scurried toward the open-fronted outbuilding. It’s so much closer to Little Vivec than the Riverwood mill is. As far as Harald knew, the former owners had been killed, quite a long while ago in fact. And yet, he noted as he stood gratefully beneath the shed’s roof, it looked oddly well kept. There wasn’t anyone splitting trees, but there were several very fresh pieces of venison atop the table.
Someone is using the property, that’s obvious. I can buy these shanks of meat for Selyse. I won’t make any money from them but that’s not the point anyway. Then I’ll just have to hope I can take down a couple more deer on my own.
He’d darted across the way to the house, and pounded on the door for quite a long while, but nobody came to answer and he got thoroughly soaked. After thinking about it, he decided to take the venison. It was still very fresh, but it wouldn’t be for long if it just sat there. He left septims on the table, lots of them, hoping that whoever had killed the deer would be just as pleased with coin as with meat.
He bypassed Roggi and Dardeh’s house, even though he was cold and wet. He’d imposed on their hospitality too often, lately, and they would likely make him stay until the weather cleared. He needed to get this set of tasks done. Instead, he’d begun a long trek along the lakeshore, back onto the road and down into Whiterun Hold, and then all the way east to the river.
He travelled all the rest of the day and through the night. Along the way he gathered all of the lavender and tundra cotton Selyse had asked for, as well as most of the Nirnroot she’d requested. Wolf pelts had been surprisingly easy to gather; not only did a small pack of them attack him, but farther along the road another group had attacked some merchants. He’d approached them to be certain they weren’t taking the pelts for themselves, and not only gotten their permission to skin the beasts but also purchased from them the remaining venison he needed. The rest of the Nirnroot called to him at intervals along his remaining trek to Riverwood, where he dropped the lumber order off as requested.
Now he was sloshing through the rain in the early morning light, toward the bandit camp on the hills beyond. He’d long since given up any notion of staying dry; but this close to his goal he didn’t want to stop for a toweling-off or a mug of warm spiced wine. He crouched down when he got close enough to survey the camp, expecting to be challenged at any moment. But he saw no movement of any kind.
A good-sized fire still burned in its pit near the collection of tents. Harald frowned. For it to be burning in this downpour meant it had been stoked recently; and that meant people still had to be nearby. He inched closer. There was still no motion, no voices, nothing at all. Then he got close enough to see the pools of blood and the pile of still-melting ice where some extremely powerful mage had frozen a bandit solid. Another bandit lay on the ground next to her warhammer.
Someone got to these people before I did. I wonder who killed them. I wonder whether I can prove it to Bal-Ran.
It was a large camp, stretching between one of the mountain pools that ran downhill to join the lake and an old mine tunneling into the mountainside. He wandered through the camp, checking for signs of life but finding only signs of a very recent skirmish. And finally, as he reached the tent just outside the mine’s wooden doors, he found a corpse dressed in full plate mail and wearing an Orc-made helmet.
Harald examined the body and its armor carefully. The helmet had a deep dent in it, perhaps acquired in the battle that killed its owner. There was no real way to know; but it was the only Orcish helm in the place. He sighed, removing the helm gently, and started downhill back toward Little Vivec.
Selyse greeted him from upstairs as he entered her store, grateful for the warmth that enveloped him.
“I’m soaking wet and dripping, Selyse,” he replied.
“That’s fine. You can’t hurt anything here with water, as long as you don’t get near the books or scrolls. Come on up.”
Selyse was having a meal with the Nord boy. Harald desperately wanted to ask about him; but no question he could formulate in his mind sounded anything but blatantly racist so he kept his curiosity to himself.
“I’ve gathered all the things you asked for,” he said, putting his pack down on the floor and taking out all the carefully-wrapped plants, pelts, and meat. “I hope the flowers didn’t get too damp.”
Selyse smiled as she examined her new goods. “Fantastic! Let me see. Ohhh, very nice,” she said, running her hands through the furs. “These pelts are exceptional. Here,” she added, handing him the promised gold and a necklace. “I palmed this off an Imperial soldier awhile back. You may find it useful with all the stuff you carry around.”
Harald examined the necklace. He could feel that it was enchanted, but his skills with magic were such that he could only guess at the enchantment. Probably a strength spell judging from her words.
“Thank you, but you really didn’t need to…” Selyse held up a hand to stop him.
“I told you, a little extra bonus for quality. That’s the bonus. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”
Harald rubbed his chin, slightly embarrassed to be so obvious about his attempted bribery but unable to think of a better way to approach the issue. “Well, I am still trying to locate this person who might have come through here and I hoped we could work out a deal…”
Selyse frowned and shook her head. “I told you. I have a strict policy. I’m a merchant, not a mercenary. Everything I have for sale is on the shelf – no more and no less.”
Harald sighed, and then grinned at her. “Ok. I can respect that. Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying. I’m glad all these materials passed muster. It’s been good to meet you, Selyse.”
“Thank you,” she said with a small but still cautious smile. “Sorry I can’t help you out.”
“No, it’s fine. I understand. I have to respect a person who stands by their principles.”
Harald waved and left to find Bal-Ran. The fighter was outside his cabin, standing over his cook pot, in the pouring rain. Harald would have been surprised except for the fact that at this point he was so thoroughly wet that it didn’t matter anymore. He was sure Bal-Ran must feel the same way.
“Bal-Ran,” he said, pulling the Orcish helm out of his pack, “I found what I think is the bandit leader’s helm. It was strange, though. The camp was mostly destroyed, and all the bandits were dead. One of them was wrapped in a huge chunk of ice. I think whoever got to them must be a powerful mage.”
Bal-Ran took the helm and examined it, turning it over in his hands to see it from all angles.
“This is indeed the helm. It carries the dent I gave it. He was already slain? Curious. Could it have been… him?”
Harald perked up. Him? The Dunmer he was looking for, maybe? Finally it felt as though he might be getting somewhere.
“You know something about the person who did this?”
Bal-Ran looked suspicious. “I may, but…”
Harald’s consternation must have been obvious. He was so close to finding an answer and here the man was, hesitating again. Bal-Ran shook his head.
“No. You tried to do all of us a service. You have a right to know. A warrior passed through here, wearing armor from Morrowind.”
Yes! Finally!
“A powerful man. And honorable. We discussed much. I mentioned the bandits to him, but I did not ask his aid. He must have offered it anyway. Those poor fools. They never would have stood a chance.”
Harald nodded. “But do you know where he went? Please, it’s very important or I wouldn’t be asking.”
“He said he was seeking a Dwemer ruin called Kagrenar. It’s far to the east, near the Morrowind border. I cannot say more. I am sorry.”
Harald grinned. Not only the information I was looking for, but the place I’m going is a Dwemer ruin? There’s my bonus!
“No need to apologize. That’s the best news I’ve had all day! Thank you so very much!”
Bal-Ran nodded. “You are welcome. I do not know why you seek him, but if you find him I urge you to think before you act.”
Harald nodded. “After seeing that block of ice, you’d best believe it. I’ll be very careful. And thank you again.”
He turned back toward the shore, excited to have another reason to explore a Dwemer ruin. He needed to report to Taren that his lumber order had been delivered. After that it would be time to return to Windhelm, to tend to his armor and weapons, and to prepare for the delve.
And to dry off.