Neldov

Koeglin Village was quiet. With midnight fast approaching, the darkened streets were bare of respectable citizens, leaving only the suspicious and unsavory prowling about. Thieves hid in the shadows, waiting for an unfortunate mark to hit. Sliding down off her mount, the Templar gave the horse’s head a soft pat. Cellë chuffed in response. A quick glance around told her she had best take care if she did not wish become one of those unfortunate souls this night, though she suspected her height - or lack thereof - made her a tempting target.

A man leaned against a building to her left. He was tall, hidden by the shadows that cloaked him, his face dark beneath a dark hood. “Greetings, friend,” she said as she approached, her arms at her sides, gloved hands very visible, lest he get the wrong impression and assume she was a scoundrel intent on robbing him of his likely ill-gotten possessions. 

“Friend?” the man chuckled. He sounded old beneath the hood, the hint of a rattle in his speech. Old, or a frequent smoker. “Aye, I can be your friend...for a price.”

Having expected this, Neldov slipped a hand into the deep pocket hidden in the left side of her skirt, withdrawing a few coins from a pouch there. “Are we friends now?” She tossed the coins his way.

He caught them easily with filthy hands and examined them a moment before looking up. She could just barely make out what appeared to be a grey beard. “Indeed, we are. What do ya’ want, friend?”

“I am looking for a place to rest the night,” she informed him,  “And to find a bit of food.”

“You’ll be wanting the Sleepy Sailor Inn then." He pointed up the road. "Decent food, supper was hours ago though, so leftovers’ll be cold, most like.”

Neldov nodded her thanks and began heading in that direction. Another coin flew his way as she called out her shoulder, “Take him to the stables, please!” The man caught the coin and glanced at the gold-maned horse cautiously. Something in the beast’s eyes suggested it liked to bite hands that were not his owners, but he would not refuse the extra coin.

The inn was small and run down but still clearly cared for. A few windows were broken, but the ones still intact were clean and clear. The door was creaky and swollen as she forced it open, but  the atmosphere inside was decent, the tables clean. She moved straight for a table in the corner. Dragging the chair out, she gave the seat a cursory glance of  inspection. Deeming it clean enough, she lowered herself onto it. Smoothing her dark-brown skirts, she caught the barmaid's eye and nodded to her. "What is good here?"

The barmaid approached the table. She was a tall nord with short blonde hair and sleepy green eyes. "At this hour?" she scoffed lightly. "Not shit."

Chuckling softly, Neldov slipped a hand into her pocket and withdrew more coin, placing it upon the table. "Bring me whatever you have then, please. And water to drink, thank you." Shrugging, the barmaid bustled off to fill the order.

Leaning back in the seat, Neldov gave the room a glance. Besides her there were only a few other patrons. A nervous-looking man and scantily-clad woman hid in the other corner. The man was well-dressed, the woman less so. A midnight transaction, she suspected dismissively. At the bar a redguard lounged, clearly well into his cups judging by how he leaned, supporting himself heavily against the wood counter. A young boy was stationed behind it, sweeping up some mess.

The barmaid returned, interrupting her inspection of the other diners. “Here ya go, bit of cold meat pie, some bread for ya, and here’s some water.” The nord set the meal down and turned to leave, pausing when Neldov raised a hand to stop her. “Anything else then?” the nord asked, thinking she meant to add to the order.

“Information, if you please.” Out of the pocket came more coin. Placing it upon the table, Neldov looked pointedly at the nord. “I am looking for information on a man, a William Nurin.”

The barmaid seemed surprised. “Old Will? What ya be wanting him for?”

Thirsty from her travel, Neldov took a moment to drink deeply from the mug before answering. “He has borrowed a significant amount of crowns for his farmland. The weekly payments he agreed to have ceased, thus I have been employed to find out why.”

It was then the redguard at the bar spoke up. “I take it neither you nor your employer has heard then.”

Brow arching, Neldov regarded the man with amusement. He obviously had information, and intended to make a tale of it. “What have we not heard?” she inquired as he clearly expected her to. 

Finishing off his ale, the man set the mug down roughly, took a bite of his chicken, and made his way over to her table with the lazy speed of a drunk. Yanking a chair out, he plopped down uninvited and grinned at her. “The whole farm burnt up. Heard someone set it ablaze. Also heard there were dremora spotted in the area.”

“Oh dear,” the barmaid gasped. “Dremora, spotted here?”

“Aye,” the man affirmed before reaching over and taking the bread from Neldov’s plate.

She hardly noticed. This was more than the  simple disappearing act of a man in debt. If dremora were indeed involved, perhaps she should find help. “I see,” she said simply as she considered her options. Gelucades was stationed in Alcaire Castle last she had heard, but he never remained in one place for long. It was not far from here, perhaps a few hours travel. Should she head there then, and gather him and perhaps a few of his men if he had any? “Thank you for this information,” she said as she stood, pushing the chair back. Picking up the cold meat pie and the water, she turned to the barmaid. “I should like to rent a room for the night, please.”

Though she wanted to hear more about this supposed attack on the farm, the barmaid nodded and directed her to a room up the stairs. It was clean and simple, with a small but tidy bed, a table, and a chair. Setting the meal down upon the table, Neldov removed her cloak and undressed to her chemise. She meant only to rest her eyes a moment as she lay down, just a moment, but before she knew it she was quite asleep. 

The Templar sat on the hard ground writing, her armored back against a wide-trunked tree with generous shade. Her bronze helm sat beside her, leaving her freckled face free to the light breeze that rustled the leaves and her hair. "I meant to head to Stormhaven, truly. But alas! Rumor of dragons in need of killing in the lands of Elsweyr reached my ears. Of course I cannot pass this opportunity by! I suspect the journey will take me a solid fortnight, if I ride hard."  Here she paused to glance at her steed, an unimposing and unimpressive brown mare of dubious origins. "Naurë should be able to handle a hard ride, methinks she is made of stronger stuff than her looks suggest."

* * *

Five days later found her once more leaning against a tree for rest, though this tree was less wide and had much less shade. "I weary of hard cheese and harder bread. The apples I packed for this trip turned out to be sour, quite a few infected with maggots. I am a damned fool to not have noticed when I purchased the sack, I do recall the inspection I gave was minimal. Thus it is a bed of my own making."

* * *

Another week and a handful of days passed by, and the Templar found she had greatly miscalculated how long this foolhardy trek would take her. Border checks were harsher than usual, and travel through Craglorn was far rougher than she anticipated. Soon she would arrive at the Cyrodil border, and she expected travel through that harsh land to be slow and rough. Another week, perhaps? A resupply would be necessary.

/Sign

The little inn was silent in the midnight hours. Neldov found herself pleasantly surprised, and relished in the much needed quiet. The hustle and bustle of town grated on her. Seated at the lopsided table that served as a desk, she opened a little brown leather book and dipped a quill into the ink pot to her left. Poising the tip of the quill above the pristine parchment of the book, she paused momentarily before writing: "It was suggested by fellow adventurer that I should start keeping a record of the jobs I take and the quests I go on. He claims to keep such records so that he may publish it has a book in his retirement days, but I suspect it has more to do with his shoddy memory. That troll did hit him in the head pretty hard."  Here she paused once more. The fellow adventurer she mentioned was Gelucades, a giant brawny man with crimson hair she suspected was only so red by use of hair-potions, and a foolish grin always on his bearded face. She worked with him from time to time, and truly she did not mind him much. He always did his part, and never hindered her.

Leaning back, she noticed her long golden hair left a dusting of sand behind as it brushed the table. Grimacing, she wrote: "Currently I am in the Alik'r Desert. I dislike it here, the sun is so hot on my armor, the sand gets everywhere. Just last night I removed my helm only to find sand in my hair! How did it get there? Goodness, I will be glad to show this place the back of me! Once I have retrieved these stolen tomes for my current employer, I will be free to do so. Where shall I go next? Perhaps I will head North." Abruptly, she decided she had written enough. Setting the quill down, she left the book open so the ink might dry, and left the table.