The Knight (A Skyrim Inspired Series)

Eight

I sat on the edge of a dock outside of Riften. Below my feet, bits of ice splashed up against the old wood, yet I wiggled my fishing line in hopes to catch something.

“You’ve been out here all morning.” Brynjolf invaded, wickedly prancing down the dock.

He tossed an apple up and down, and slyly grinning, prepared to hand it to me.

“I’m not Lucia.” I grunted.

“Aye, Lad, but by the looks, you haven’t eaten or slept.”

“I’ve drank.” I responded, raising an ale.

He sat beside me, kicking one of the few empty bottles of mead I’d accumulated into the water. It was done to scare off the fish, forcing me to pay attention to him now that I had no distraction.

“You woke the Inn last night.” he commented.

My jaws clenched, and he perched his arm against his knee.

“You’re that way when you’re drunk.” he went on, staring out at the lake, “And you hardly yell at your wife.” 

I stuffed my fishing pole into the bucket beside me and stood, however, Brynjolf wasn’t as lenient, and gripped my shoulder to pull me back down. 

“Aye brother, you don’t get to do that with me.”

“The water’s frigid.” I warned.

“That, it is.” he smugged, “But I’ll gut you before you can throw me in.” 

I felt the edge of his knife in my back. He was always quick, and as a Nightingale, his stealth was immaculate. Even I had trouble at times detecting when he’d strike, and our abilities mirrored one another.

“You’ve gotten slower.” he remarked, glancing from his knife to myself.

I would have responded, but caught the edge of a dagger mere inches from my face. I’d surprised myself when doing so, my heartrate spiking, but both Brynjolf and I turned to view our suspect.

“They’re not.” Serana frowned.

She’d put on armor, fitted black leather that squeezed her dangerously, and summoned her knife back to herself to stuff into her belt. 

“Jarl Laila has an errand for you, a missive to speak with someone she thinks may have ties to the massacre and the raid, ironically.”

I cocked my brow, “You’ve already spoken to her?”
“Yeah. I’ll be back by evening.”

My lips twitched, “And where are you going?”

“To satisfy the missive.” 

I looked to Brynjolf for aid, but his expression seemed a bit disappointed. From there, everything pieced itself together. He’d simply been sent as the messenger beforehand, but considering even the slightest notion of my objection, Serana decided to step forward. 

“So a mission was given to me, yet you’re going?” I squinted.

“I informed Laila that you have a visit with Maramal. I scheduled you for noon.” 

A grin pulled at my lips and I scoffed, “Unfortunate, because I’m not going.”

I was stabbed in the waist upon that confession, Brynjolf catching me in his arms as I immediately collapsed. He’d paralyzed me with a poisoned blade, and in the same notion, grunted while trying to keep me lifted.

“Yeah, you are Lad.” he wheezed.

Serana formed a spheroid of purple magic in her palm, and after that, darkness.