The Dragonborn Arrives (Skyrim)

Arrival

As soon as the Northern Maiden docked in Windhelm, I breathe a sigh of relief. The long journey from Raven Rock, Solstheim, to here in Skyrim is finally over. I had been the only woman on board and some of the sailors had given me leery looks but once I had strapped my stalhrim war axe to my back and made my matching stalhrim daggers known to everyone, they had backed off. Thankfully. 

"What's your plan now, lass?" one of my fellow passengers asks. He's an older Nord man, but one of the few that left me alone on the boat. 

"Wander Skyrim and find my destiny!" I grin. "I suppose I'll start off in Windhelm doing odd jobs and sellsword work. Make my fortune and jump from city to city,"

"You sure you can handle it?" he arches an eyebrow, noticing my small frame.

I scowl at him. "I'm stronger than I look! I fought ash spawn in Solstheim and I prevented an assassination attempt on the Councilor of Raven Rock's life!"

"Word of advice: let your actions speak for themselves rather than boasting of your accomplishments," the old man shakes his head and I clench my fists. 

"Suit yourself. I don't need to prove myself to you," 

The plank that takes us to the dock is finally lowered and I saunter across it without another word. I don't need to prove myself to the world. Only to myself! I suppose I should probably prove myself to my brother because he thinks I'm going to die here in Skyrim, but I won't. My older brother Marco can sit in Tel Mithryn and run around for Neloth but I'm going to become one of the best warriors there is. 

"Watch where you're going!" someone scolds me and I barely jump back in time before a dockworker unloads an enormous crate. 

"Sorry," I mutter. 

"That water is cold, but it's a lot better than having to work up in the dry air," an Argonian remarks to me. I'm standing right by the edge and could have fallen in. I shiver. That wouldn't have been great. I step out of the way and stand next to the Argonian, who's bent over a workbench. That's when I notice almost all of the dockworkers scurrying about the place are Argonians. 

"Why are all the dockworkers here Argonian?" I ask curiously. 

"We Argonians do the work the Nords don't want to do," the Argonian replies. "My name is Scouts-Many-Marshes...you are a curious one, aren't you?"

"Skylar," I reply. "I suppose I am. But what's the harm in that?"

"New to Skyrim?" Scouts asks. 

"What gives it away?" 

"You don't seem to know much about Skyrim and the way it works...and you don't look like a Nord,"

"That's because I'm not a Nord. I'm Breton," I explain. "How long have you been in Skyrim?"

"I came here as a hatchling. The only thing colder than Skyrim is the Nords themselves, but we stick together," he says bitterly. 

"Nords giving you problems?" I frown. 

"We're used to getting by on scraps but the Shatter-Sheilds want everything for nothing," Scouts scoffs. "I wish someone would beat the coin out of Torbjorn Shatter-Shield's fists. He clings to every Septim and says an Argonian's labour is only worth a tenth of a proper Nord worker. My people are not slaves!"

My mouth falls open in shock. Is that how the Nords treat outsiders in Skyrim? Gods, what kind of place did I come to? Well. I came here to become a warrior but that doesn't mean I have to be as cold-hearted and hardened as everyone around me: I can fight injustices alongside whatever hired mercenary work I'm hoping I land. Maybe fighting injustices and sticking up for the townspeople is a good way to start getting my name out there, like I did for myself in Raven Rock.