Clark in Skyrim, A continued report from across the border. Options

[ghastley]

If mALX is back, then Clark should return too.

We left him in Evergloam at the beginning of the 4th Era, where Nocturnal had just inducted him and Minx as Nightingales, to join Dralsi. The two other members of the first trinity had been slain by Ogrim the Restless, who was the original occupant of the cave complex that became the Twilight Sepulchre.

He's about 225 years old now. Nocturnal and Azura made him immortal, rather than risk having to train a new one. He retired as a Nightingale some time ago, and went back into business managing brothels, and other enterprises that remain profitable in times of war. Much of the other intervening history should emerge as this unfolds.

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Part 1 - Over the border

"So Gilda, have you been into Skyrim before?" Clark asked the young woman sitting next to him. Ahead of them, the horse plodded onward, pulling Clark's carriage along the road towards Helgen. He gave the reins a jiggle, but the horse's gait didn't change. It only knew slow and steady.

Gilda wasn't really paying attention. She was busy looking at the scenery, which is why Clark had asked. "Oh, what? No, I barely got a mile from our farm before now. Mother didn't like me wandering off; she was scared I'd run into bandits."

"Is that how your nose got broken?" Clark guessed.

"Yes, the one time I did get away, she turned out to be right. When the bandits found out I didn't have anything valuable, they ... well, you can imagine what they had in mind. I gave the first one who tried anything my knee, and he did that in return. The others didn't stop me when I ran off, they were too busy laughing at our discomfort."

"How long ago was that? It looks like it's been that way for a while."

"About five months, I think. One day was much like another at our farm, and I lost track of time. I can't thank you enough for getting me away from there."

Clark wasn't sure what had made him offer to take her with him. He did need a new apprentice, that was true, but why he'd suddenly decided it could be her was beyond him. It wasn't her looks, for certain. Apart from her nose, she had crooked teeth, and looked like she never ate anything. Her mother was the exact opposite, so it was clear where all the food went in that household. She was wearing one of her mother's hand-me-down dresses, which fit her like a sack.

But he'd stopped at the farm for directions when he left Bruma, and she'd caught his eye. Before he knew it, he'd told her mother she could have a good career as a merchant's apprentice, hinting that she might be able to send some of her earnings home.

And if she'd persuaded him to do that, she probably had some speech talent, so she might work out well. He'd need to heal her nose, and fix her teeth first, and that would need more magicka than he had. Once he got to Whiterun, he'd be able to use the Alchemy lab at his house to make some fortification potions, but until then he couldn't do anything.

"We'll be in Helgen before long," he told her. "It's just over there, where you can see the smoke rising..." Clark's voice trailed off, as he realised that there shouldn't be that much smoke. Something had apparently set part of the town on fire, if not all of it.

They soon met a ragged bunch of imperial soldiers coming the other way, telling of a dragon attack on the town. Clark didn't think there were any dragons in Tamriel.

"Nor did we, until that one swooped down on us," the legionary told him. "We were preparing an execution for Ulfric Stormcloak and some of his men, when it was interrupted by a blast of magic. Threw everyone around like dolls. We'd heard that Ulfric could use the Thu'um like that, so we had him gagged, but a beast that size doing it was something else entirely."

"General Tullius and the Thalmor Ambassador were there too," one of the other men put in. "We have no idea if they got out."

Nobody knew if it was safe to try passing through. There were trails to Falkreath that might be preferable, as long as you weren't hauling anything heavy.

"But watch out for bandits if you go that way," another soldier advised. "That applies any time you leave the main roads in Skyrim."

Clark had heard much the same from legionaries in Cyrodiil. In his opinion, the roads weren't any safer than any other route, just better paved. He let his horse continue down the road.

Helgen was deserted when they got there. Most of the population seemed to be lying dead in the streets, scorched by the dragon's breath. Anyone alive had presumably fled, and the dragon itself was nowhere around. Clark decided to continue down into Riverwood and let them know what had happened. If the dragon didn't attack there next, of course.

---

Riverwood was intact, but they'd seen the dragon fly over. Gerdur, the mill-owner, told Clark that her brother Ralof had escaped from Helgen, and she thought that Hadvar, the legionary from the town, had too. Ralof had brought a stranger with him, and she'd gone on to Whiterun to warn the Jarl.

Clark knew from his earlier trips that Ralof was a Stormcloak, and he asked Gerdur if he'd been one of the men the soldiers had mentioned as due for execution. Ralof hadn't mentioned that part, just that he'd escaped from the dragon. But now it made sense why Hadvar had been there at the same time. "I'll make sure Ralof stays well hidden," she told Clark.

She turned back to what she'd been doing when they arrived. "When the dragon flew over, I was so startled, I dropped this firewood I'd just split in the river. I was trying to dry it out with a flare spell, but it looks like I'll just have to split some more."

"There's an easier way, you know," Clark told her. He took one of the pieces of firewood and stood it on a stump. "Cast a frost spell on it," he told Gerdur. She did so, until Clark told her to stop. "Now dispel the ice"

Gerdur didn't know that spell, so Clark taught it to her. "Now try the flare."

The wood caught immediately, and she quickly dispelled the flames. "I hardly used any magicka doing that. It was a lot easier than the way I was trying."

"Right, especially as the frost comes easily to you. Here, I'll help you finish these."

"You make it look so easy," Gerdur told him. "Are you sure you're an Imperial, not a Breton?"

"It's all practice, not magicka reserves," he told her. "It looks easy because I'm using less magicka than you would. Just like you know how to roll a log instead of doing it the hard way by lifting. But some spells are beyond my normal reach. That's why I have to wait until I get to Whiterun before I can heal Gilda's nose."

Gerdur noticed Gilda for the first time. "I can help her with a good meal, and you too. I owe you for that firewood trick."

"I hoped you might. Cooking is where you show your skill."

---

"Looking at her, I expected she had no appetite," Gerdur whispered to Clark. "But she's on her third helping of the stew already."

Clark told Gerdur that he suspected her mother had been starving her. Whether that was to keep her thin, or just because the mother ate all the food, he didn't know, but the mother was really fat. "She didn't think enough of Gilda to get her teeth straightened, so I doubt she had any positive feelings for her."

"If Gilda eats like that all the time, she might take after her," Gerdur warned.

"I don't expect she will. I'll get Lydia to look after her, and she'll keep her fit, not fat."

Lydia was Clark's housecarl in Whiterun. She'd been part of the deal when Jarl Balgruuf made Clark a Thane of the city, for his services to its people. He'd forgotten what he'd done for them; nothing major, just a lot of small things that added up. And the Jarl had noticed his effect on the local economy. Even the Khajiiti caravan that camped outside the gates seemed to be more prosperous after Clark had arrived.

They'd be at his house, Breezehome, by the end of the day, if there weren't any problems on the road.

---

"Oh, It's you, Thane," the guard at the gate knew Clark, even if he didn't know the girl. "Is she with you? I have orders to keep strangers out, with dragons sighted in the area."

Clark vouched for Gilda, and the guard opened the gate for them.

"That's a new development," Clark remarked. "The only ones not allowed in before were the Khajiit traders. They have an unjustified reputation as thieves. Well, maybe it's partly justified, but they're not the worst. They just have a more sharing attitude to property than the Nords are accustomed to, and it's often misinterpreted."

---

"What have you got in the sack?" Lydia asked.

"That's not a nice thing to say," Clark admonished. "Even if that is a good description of her outfit. This is Gilda, my new apprentice, and we'll be exchanging that 'sack' for something better-fitting as soon as we can. She's about your height, so is there something in the wardrobe she can try on?"

"You know I only keep a few changes of armour. If you're looking for a dress, you're probably out of luck."

"Leather armour might be more comfortable, if it fits."

Gilda took a look in the wardrobe, but there weren't any dresses, and the leather was loose, even with the straps tightened all the way. She put the "sack" back on, and tied the string back around her waist.

"We have to go to Belethor's in the morning anyway. We'll find you something then. Come out to the back room while I brew up some potions, and then I'll see what I can do about your nose," Clark told her.

Lydia was already back at the cookpot, stirring up some food. She could see that the poor girl needed feeding, even if Clark couldn't.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Oct 2 2014, 07:52 PM

[ghastley]

Acadian: Clark has the advantage of immortality. He also has more direct interests in Markarth,

Grits: Clark wants to keep everyone alive, even Weylin (but he failed).

D.E. It's a good story, but too short. At this point, I'm just using what exists, and not expanding it.

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Previously: Clark prevented a murder in the Markarth market, only to witness another.

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Part 7 - The Warrens

Vicuña was lying on her back on the bed, studiously ignoring the book next to her. "How do you know I haven't cheated, and memorised the book while you were out?"

"You can cheat as much as you like," Clark told her, "but if I catch you out, you'll have to persuade me to forgive you, as well as completing your assignment. ... And how do you know I won't switch books?"

"Well I haven't read it, so it wouldn't matter," she replied. "My plan tonight is to let you tire yourself out before I start reading, so you won't be able to distract me so much."

"But now you've told me, won't I just take it slow and easy?"

"I hope so, that's what I'm in the mood for tonight, after all the fighting today."

"Yes, I'm sorry our little outing got spoiled by the Forsworn. I could have done without them too."

He didn't mention the incident outside the shop. That had been Forsworn again, if the guard could be believed.

---

"Since you didn't get round to reading last night, you can do it now," Clark said,as she lifted her head from his shoulder and yawned. "Yes, it's morning already."

"But don't I get any credit for that? You wanted me to read it last night, and I put it off until morning. So I got my own way on one thing, at least."

"That's not what I'm trying to teach you. You get what you want if you ask nicely, and you know how to do that already. What you need to learn is how to concentrate on two things at once. We're just using a book as one of them, and the other is something you should able to do without having to think."

"But I can't just ignore you, It would spoil it for both of us."

"I'm not asking you to do that, but to broaden your attention to include the book as well. You had the right idea the first night, although you didn't quite get it right. The story in the book, and what we were doing, became merged in your mind. You need to keep them separate, but pay attention to both."

"That sounds difficult."

"It is, but it's very rewarding when you master it."

Clark placed the book on the low cupboard beside the bed and had her bend over it. "Read it out loud if you find that helps," he told her, "or better yet, tell me what you're reading in your own words. That will help you concentrate on the meaning, not just the marks on the page."

"This is the part where Straw and Barenziah are in Riften, but it's spelled differently in the book. Is that a mistake?"

"Did I miss my target?" Clark asked, innocently.

"Not you, silly, the book. It's says Rifton, with an O, not with an E. Is that the same place?"

"Yes, but the spelling may have been different back then. This is all at least five hundred years ago, and things change. Even that book. You may notice I found the older edition with the next part intact."

"Oh, yes. I see what you mean. Barenziah's offered to bed Therris if he sponsors her as a member, but the version I read before didn't say what happened next. I always assumed she went to his room, but they're doing it right there in the bar-room! With everybody watching."

"So tell me what's happening."

"She's sitting on his lap, and he's undone her shirt and pulled it down around her waist. It doesn't say if she's got big ones, but apparently the Khajiit likes them. I think he's just looking at them, not licking them, or squeezing like you are." She paused to move his hands slightly. "Just there, that's where I like it."

"And then she's undone his pants, and he's inside her, ... "

"Keep going," Clark urged. "What are they doing now? This, perhaps?"

"This is almost as disappointing as the newer editions. It says she blacked out, and then just resumes with her doing her shirt back up. Oh! now I see why. I didn't know Khajiit were different."

"Really? You've never tried one?"

"No, and I can't imagine what it would feel like. I mean, I know most of it would feel just like this, but the barbs have to make a difference."

"So take a few moments to imagine, and tell me how you think it would be."

"Well it's got to be more intense. I don't know if it would actually hurt, not if she was as wet as I am."

"Do you think she really blacked out?"

"No, I expect the author of the book was a man, and she just couldn't explain it to him. I couldn't put what I'm feeling now into words. But I do know that I'm not going black out and miss any of it! I just might have to stop talking for a bit while I ..."

Clark couldn't have agreed more. He didn't say anything either.

---

"You were much better that time. It's just a question of keeping your mind on what you want, and not getting distracted. It might not take all five volumes after all. "

"Oh yes, it will. I insist on my full course of training, even if it's just for practice. If I've got the basic idea, there will still be subtle stuff I need."

"We'll see. I have to go down to the Warrens today and look around a bit. I'm trying to find out more about the Silver-Bloods' connection to the Forsworn."

"Be careful, the Silver-Bloods can get away with anything they like in this city. It seems like they own everything, and that might include the Jarl."

"If the Thalmor don't own him. I've noticed they have a presence in Understone Keep, and the Silver-Bloods don't. No, if they had that much influence, there wouldn't be a Shrine to Talos." Clark was undecided about Jarl Igmund.

---

As Clark had expected, the Warrens were almost deserted during the day, but he used his invisibility as a precaution. Just as well, as there was still someone left behind. Cairine appeared to be too sick to work. She just sat on the floor, moaning in discomfort, and didn't hear Clark creep past her. He checked all the rooms, not knowing which one was Weylin's, and of course that was the last one, right at the back. All that he found was a note telling Weylin to attack someone in the market. It didn't mention Margret by name, but he might have already been given his target in an earlier note. And the only signature was the single letter N.

Not much of a clue, but maybe it would mean more to Eltrys. Clark headed back towards the door out of the warrens.

"What's that?" A Breton in good-quality leather armour was standing by the doorway, clearly not a resident. "I'm sure I heard something." He cast a detect life spell, and saw Clark's shape at the back of the hallway. Clark let his invisibility dispel, and walked over to reason with the man. It didn't work, and a fist-fight broke out. "No weapons, or the guard will come," Cairine warned them.

Dryston was a tough customer, but Clark's blocking was better, and he didn't land any significant punches. Before long, he was taking a knee, and cursing his luck, and Clark.

"Who sent you?" Clark asked.

"Nepos the Nose. The old man hands out the orders. He said you were getting in the way. That's all I know, I swear!"

Clark bribed Cairine to silence with a cure disease potion. He presumed she was really sick, as she'd been moaning even before she knew there was someone to hear her. Dryston knew what he'd get if he told anyone.

---

Nepos' house was on the North cliff, at the other side of town. The door wasn't locked, so everyone was probably at home. Clark cast his invisibility and crept into the house.

A couple of servants were working in the kitchen, clearing up after a meal. An old man, who he assumed was Nepos himself, was dozing in a comfortable chair by the fireside. A journal lay on the table next to him. Clark picked it up and put it in his pocket, then re-cast his invisibility. He slipped back out of the house and opened the journal.

It appeared that Nepos was just a conduit for the orders, which actually came from Madanach, King of the Reachmen. Clark had belived that King Madanach was dead, killed when the Nords reclaimed Markarth, but the journal said he was alive in Cidhna Mine, which the city used as a prison. Clark needed to get this information to Eltrys.

---

Eltrys would be waiting in the Talos Shrine every evening around the same time, in case Clark had anything to tell him. To anyone else, it would appear that he was making his daily visit as a worshipper. Talos worship was just as common among the Bretons as it was with the Nords.

As he entered, Clark heard voices, and decided that invisibility was a good idea. It was; several guards were standing over Eltrys' body, and Clark got the impression he was expected.

"If he turns up, we arrest him for this murder, and let Cidhna Mine do the rest. Nobody gets out of there!"

With Eltrys dead, there was no point in Clark staying to get arrested. He crept back out and went back to the brothel, staying invisible all the way.

---

There were worse places to hide from the guards, and he did have Vicuña's training to complete. Eventually, however, he'd have to leave Markarth, and go back to Whiterun.

A few days later, Clark crept out of the brothel in the middle of the night, invisible, and with muffle enchanted on his boots. He made it as far as the stables, where he was arrested as soon as he tried to hitch his horse to his carriage. They had a guard equipped with Detect Life waiting for anyone to try and move that horse.