He turned over the small chunk of ebony in his hands, examining every inch of its surface for something, anything, that would make it worth keeping around. It was an amulet of Zenithar, crafted by his father, a local Breton, of what he claimed to be ‘Raven Rock’s last and finest piece of unrefined ebony.’
He would always claim that with a chuckle. The Breton would miss that.
His father was not, to say, dead, it was just that the Breton did not quite know where he was. Two weeks before, he had come home to a note stabbed to the inside of the door with a fork. The note had instructed him on the location of ten thousand septims hidden beneath the floor, as well as vaguely stating to ‘take all you hold close.’
Unfortunately to him, at the bottom of the letter, there was a clause stating to give the house, and all its furnishings to the most worthy beggar of Wayrest. Upon reading this, the Breton scoffed. He and his father did not live in a noble way, however they had always done well for themselves, and to throw that away for some beggar? Ridiculous. He was angry with his father. Did he not even trust him enough to convey these instructions in person? What could be so important as to leave in the middle of a working day, when he should have been at his anvil...
The Breton shook his head, pocketing the amulet, if only because it was his father’s. He didn’t need the pity of some righteous ‘god’ where he was going. The instructions stated only to ‘go east, but not beyond the western border of Morrowind’ and to ‘find Naalia Aretino.’ Overall the Breton had no idea where to go. He’d never been farther from home than the ruins and small towns of Orsinium. He decided he’d buy a map and a compass, when he got into the market.
Walking out of his old house, carrying the key and deed, he wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to give it away. He was quite perturbed to be dressed like this, in the rags of a poor man, forced to keep his head down so nobody would recognise him. When he approached the first beggar he saw, the man smiled, assuming another beggar was in front of him.
‘G’day, fel--‘
The Breton cut him off. ‘See that house up there?’ He pointed roughly behind himself in the general direction of his house.
‘Well...’ Sputtered the beggar. ‘Yes, I’ll be supposin’ I--‘
‘Take these.’ He shoved the deed in the man’s hand and tossed his keys a bit heavily at the man. ‘Go find a quill and sign that. It’s yours now.’ He looked at the man’s rough appearance. ‘You can write, can’t you?’
The beggars eyes shifted, clearly overwhelmed. ‘Well, no sir, I--‘
‘Then go learn how. Better do it quickly. The guard may think you stole that.’ Nodding toward the scroll of parchment now in the beggars hand. ‘And one last thing. I need your hat.’
‘Oh, yes, sir!’ He took off his hat quickly with his free hand, shoving it a bit too eagerly at the Breton. ‘The eight divines bless you!’
Scoffing, the Breton simply walked away, looking down, and quickly putting the beggars hat on. It smelled of soggy linen and eggs. At least the man wasn’t a drunkard.
As it began to rain, he was still walking down the path to Wayrest. The snow was becoming hardened from the extra moisture, and there was a telltale crunch with each step he took on the cold path. He had lived near the cold all his life, but he was no Nord, and these footwraps were getting ridiculous...
As he approached the western gate of the city, he was able to make out a shiny figure, taller than average, and with his arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow. His father had always told him to avoid a Thalmor if he came across one, but he was fairly certain that they did not make a habit of frequenting High Rock. pulling his hat down to cover a bit more of his face, he carried on the path. They had already made notice of him, and one of the Imperial guards was pointing at him as he talked to his Thalmor companion. As the Breton approached the gate, he tried to walk past them without acknowledgement or greeting. He was met with two Imperial soldiers crossing their spears across the gate. Deciding it would be best to try and leave without incident, he turned around only to find himself staring at the Thalmor right at the bottom of her neck.
