Love and Bounty

Chapter One: Weave of Lies

The Solitude docks' bells rang loud as an Imperial ship eased its way into the harbor from only the Hist's roots know where. Dockhands rushed to meet the encroaching vessel, and a green-scaled Argonian woman watched them pass by on the boardwalk.

She caught a whiff of ale lingering among them and crinkled her snout, crossing her rigid arms tight over her chest.

Deeja would stand here for hours, most days, keeping an eye and ear out for any potential leads on "treasure" she and her brother could acquire. They dealt in anything and everything. Her brother, Jaree-Ra, could probably find a way to sell ice to these bumbling Nords. He would spend his time up in the city, flapping his jaws to potential buyers or business partners and weaseling them out of whatever he could.

Yet here Deeja was, posted near the East Empire Company office as a frigid, biting gale blew in from the Sea of Ghosts to the north. Her hide armor, with its leather padding and furs draped over her hips, did little to warm her scales, even as she stood directly in the sunshine and watched the dockhands do their work.

One of them was drunk. She could tell by how the Nord stumbled and nearly collapsed into the choppy, salty waters of the Karth River below. An amused smirk broke through Deeja's dour expression as he stumbled and fell on the dock—right on his ass.

Absolutely priceless.

"Hello there!" a male voice called out from further down the boardwalk.

Deeja's smirk faded instantly as she flicked her gaze at the source. A tall and broad-shouldered Nord approached, his shoulder-length blond hair flowing with the freezing wind. He looked a little rough with the roguish stubble along his jawline, but the bits of leather armor over his plain white tunic, as well as the blades on his hip and the bow strapped on his back, made him stand out amongst the lackeys of the East Empire Company.

"You look like a mercenary," the Nord said as he stopped just a few long paces away. The sureness of his bearing and the confidence of his smile instantly set off alarms. "Care for some competition?"

Deeja narrowed her slitted yellow eyes. "Do I know you?" she uttered with a rasp, her voice as icy as the wind. "Because you definitely don't know who you're speaking to right now."

The Nord's eyebrows shot well over his pale blue eyes, and his smile softened. "Aye, you're right. Where've my manners gone?" A chuckle rumbled in his throat as seagulls cried out overhead. "I'm Hrolf. Hrolf Ice-Jaw. And you are...?"

Deeja's grumbles rattled in her tightly-shut maw before she uttered: "Go away."

An uncomfortable laugh escaped Hrolf. "Odd name you have there," he said. "But it sounds like you want me to leave. I'll take the hint."

"Smart man," Deeja retorted. "Be on your way."

His confidence waned with each passing second, and dejection filled the void. "Be seeing you around, maybe?"

The Argonian woman let out a huff from her reptilian nostrils. "Don't count on it—unless you want knives in your belly."

The rest of Hrolf's resolve faded from his face.

"Now go."

His brow furrowed. A hundred thoughts raced through her head—Deeja should have known that no Nord would take such a slight from an Argonian. These were their lands. When she and her brothers first arrived in this cold city and saw no others born of the Hist, that much became clear.

Deeja's heart thumped in her chest as her arms fell to her sides, ready to swiftly draw her dagger against him, but he didn't strike her. No, Hrolf merely turned with a grunt and strode away as quickly as he came. Just like that, she was alone with the smell of salt and vague stench of booze on the dockhands' breaths once more.