I Woke Up Inside My Friend's Video Game

[Arc 2] Chapter 32. Pyeath Shadowtorn

Arc 2. Face Your Death with Courage

The walls of Riften loomed above us, shadowed by the darkening sky, their cold stones catching the last rays of sunlight. The group had been quiet for most of the journey, each of us weighed down by our own thoughts, by the bloodshed behind us; the pillagers, the vampires and the uncertain road ahead.

We haven't got the chance to properly take a rest, maybe that's why most of us haven't spoken a word right after we left that vampire lair.

Finally, we reached the gates, I caught sight of the guards, their uniforms unmistakable. Stormcloaks. I felt a familiar knot twist in my stomach—a mix of unease and something darker. These men had likely done more than follow orders; they'd taken pleasure in their cruelty, especially against those who had no means to fight back, and those who were not Nords.

Nikolai, as always, was the first to react.

"What's the meaning of this?" His voice cut through the heavy silence, sharp as the daggers strapped to his belt. His eyes flashed dangerously, and I could see the tension in his stance, a predator sizing up his prey. His hand twitched toward the hilt of his weapon, just a subtle gesture, but I knew it well enough to understand what it meant.

The Stormcloak guard didn't flinch. He leaned lazily against his spear, as though Nikolai were nothing more than an insect buzzing at his ear. "Entrance fee. Hundred septims." He smirked, glancing at the rest of us. "Each."

Nikolai stepped forward, his shoulders taut with barely restrained fury. His mouth curled into something between a snarl and a sneer. I could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins, hot and relentless, like a storm about to break.

"We're not paying a damn thing," he growled, his voice low and venomous. His fingers itched for violence, and I knew, if given the chance, he'd have the guard on the ground in moments, blade to his throat. And while I didn't doubt Nikolai's skill, bloodshed is unnecessary. A huge amount of bounty will be given to Nikolai if I let him do as he pleases.

I stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Nikolai's arm, feeling the heat radiating from him. He stiffened at my touch but didn't pull away. His eyes flicked to mine, stormy and wild, and I met them with a calmness I didn't entirely feel.

"Let me handle this," I whispered, keeping my voice level, though my heart thrummed unsteadily. I could sense the others behind us—Jordis's eyes narrowed in silent frustration, Belrand's hand on his sword hilt, Aldis and Titus watching, waiting for whatever would happen next. I had to prevent it from becoming a massacre.

What would happen if I didn't intervened on time, I thought it was only Nikolai who will eliminate anyone without even thinking about the bounty that will put in each of our heads.

Nikolai hesitated, but after a long moment, he stepped back, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the tension in his neck. He gave me a curt nod, though the fire in his eyes has not dimmed. "Fine," he muttered, "but they're not worth the trouble."

I turned to the guard, offering him a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Hundred septims, was it?" I asked, my voice smooth, a velvet promise rather than a threat. "Quite a steep price for a city that claims to welcome all." My fingers idly played with the coin purse at my belt, though I had no intention of paying. "Isn't there something we can do to... reconsider that fee?"

The guard raised an eyebrow, the lazy smirk faltering just slightly. I could see him thinking, weighing his options. "Aye, well..." he started, his bravado slipping. He glanced nervously at Nikolai, whose gaze hadn't left him, like a wolf watching its prey. "Maybe there's some leeway, for the right sort."