The Elder Scrolls: Insurrection - Chapter 4

The Nord Way

Asa breathed a silent sigh of relief as the bandits let her through the gates. This was not the first time she had dealt with such people. Many of the Holds considered her activities on their land as poaching, and while she agreed that there were improper ways to hunt such as wasting the gifts of Kyne instead of making use of the entire animal, it was highly egotistical of these Jarls to consider all the creatures on their land as their own. There were of course remnants of her hunts that she could not use up and supplies she required which she did not have the materials to make in the wild. Thus, she often found herself needing to conduct trade, but she was not welcome to do so in certain towns. As a result, she had on occasion found herself trading with outlaw groups.

The common perception of bandits was that they were the dirt of society, comprised of immoral murderers who did not deserve to live. Asa did not approve of their ways, but in her dealings with them she had come to know that most of these people only shed their morality out of desperation. They were outcasts- sons forced by fathers into a war they did not care for, daughters married off to abhorrent strangers. In that way she too was very much like them, she had simply chosen to learn how to survive on her own by hunting the beasts of the land instead of preying on travellers and merchants. She too was considered a violator of the law, now likely more so than ever.

Hiding with these people was not the ideal scenario, but Asa was desperate as well, and these bandits have little reason to prey on the desperate. She had already handed over their most valuable belongings over to them and if they killed her and the Imperial now, all they would gain would be some armour and arrows. They already owned more than they needed of these supplies; the last time she stopped by Fort Dunstad, she had traded for arrows and learned that they received a massive influx of weaponry from Imperial Legion deserters who, disillusioned with the state of their war against the Aldmeri Dominion, had decided to become rogues.

Asa predicted that they would be more useful to the bandits alive. She could not say for certain, but she hoped it was true. They once saw her skills as a hunter when she encountered their leader, a large Nord man, in the forests of the Pale. If she needed to stay long, she could hunt bigger game for the entire group, and they were not foolish enough to turn down a steady supply of food. The Imperial man, Cato- he could fight, though from the looks he gave it seemed unlikely he would ever raise a blade for people like these.

"You could've told me we were going to a bandit camp," he spoke under his breath as they stepped past the palisade and out of earshot of those around them.

"I was afraid you wouldn't approve."

"I don't," he snarled.

"Leave, if you want," Asa rebutted. She had promised to find the man a place to hide out in return for helping her when the Thalmor attacked. She had done just that, led him to a place where no servant of any law, Nord, Imperial or Elven, could step into without risk of death. If he wanted to go his own way, she would mark some nearby cave she knew to be safe, but regardless she fulfilled her end of the bargain. Whether he liked her choice or not was his problem.

"I understand your thinking," he replied. "And I'll take what I can get and lie low here, just for a week or so."

"Alright. You have any coin on you?" she asked him suddenly.

"You plan to give them more gold?"

"No, I plan to get us something to drink."

"In that case, I have a little to spare."

Asa led the way to a building only a few steps to the right of the palisade gate. It looked to be a typical small house from the outside, but she pushed open the door to reveal a makeshift tavern. There were all the central features- a bar counter, several tables with chairs and even a bed in one corner, all illuminated by a flickering firelight on the centre of the far wall from the entrance. A taxidermied sabre cat head was even neatly posed above the fireplace. If not for the dirty and rowdy individuals that occupied these seats, it would have passed for an actual inn, albeit a little undersized. Asa did not know who had taken the time to create such a setup; many of these bandits certainly had other talents aside from killing, but it was also probable that the fort was previously occupied by Imperial forces who had left it behind.

While Cato set down his shield and blade beside the counter, Asa leaned forward and signalled to the Breton man tending the bar, "Hey, what do you have on the menu?"

"Some rabbit, some potatoes and a whole lot of tomatoes from the last raid," was his response.

"Wouldn't mind if I took a tomato off your hands. Been a while since I ate one of those. And I'll have a Nord mead too."

"That'll be ten gold."

"Ten septims?" Cato joined her at the bar and asked the Breton for confirmation.

"You heard right. Six for the mead, four for a tomato. Pretty standard pricing. Very generous considering we're in the middle of nowhere and you're a newcomer."

"I thought you wanted to get rid of these tomatoes," the Imperial said. "As I understand it, you can't keep these for very long."

"Fine. Nine gold."

"Eight. Even in wartime mead goes for five septims in Cyrodiil."

"Whatever you say," the Breton yielded and reached behind the counter, handing Asa a small bottle of mead and a fresh, plump tomato.

"I'll pay for it," Cato untied a small bag of coins from his waist and picked out eight pieces.

"Thanks," Asa nodded to him. "You might want to eat something yourself."

Picking up her food and drink, the Nord woman moved to the table furthest from the rest. She wanted to move away from the bandit rabble, and the seats there were also within close proximity to the fireplace, offering her warmth that was sorely lacking in the cold environment of the Pale. When she walked towards the table however, she noticed an odd figure standing in the very corner of the room. It was difficult to discern what was behind the loose black robes, but whoever wore it appeared to possess a feminine shape, and strands of long black hair were faintly visible behind the hood that obscured most of her face. She held a small cup from which she sipped some form of red wine.

Asa was certain she had not seen this woman the last time she visited Fort Dunstad or she would have recalled such a striking appearance. The dark garb of this stranger made her suspect that she was a necromancer. Those that practiced the arcane arts usually preferred lighter, unarmoured clothes. Necromancy was the practice of manipulating the souls and bodies of the dead, and while not explicitly forbidden in Skyrim, it was heavily frowned down upon. Most who do practice it chose to do it in secret while wearing something that concealed their identity, much like what this woman had on. Asa considered going to another table for a moment, but while the woman looked ominous, she could see nothing immediately wrong about her. Even if she was a necromancer, there was no indication that she had any bad intention towards the patrons of the tavern, and if the bandits had let her in they probably did not consider her a threat.

Lowering herself into her seat, she took a long swig from the bottle of sweet mead before forcing herself to stop staring at the robed figure. Instead, she turned her gaze back to Cato, who had ordered himself a drink as well. He dropped a few more gold pieces onto the counter but did not leave, continuing to converse with the Breton bartender. From her distance, Asa could not make out everything they said, but she heard enough snippets to understand that he was trying to extract information about his unfamiliar surroundings.

"This place seems rather organized for a band like yours, doesn't it? You have a tavern, and what looks like an internal trade system that people actually respect."

"That's Legion discipline for you. Many of these people might've given up on the Empire, but they still try to keep an orderly place around them."

"You mean most of these men are deserters?"

"Oh, the old bunch are your average Nords. These joined us back when the Legion was hiding in Skyrim after Imperial City was lost. When a bunch of trained and fully armed soldiers show up at your doors wanting to help out, you don't just say no. And they've proven to be some of the best of us since."

"Best? They're deserters, the worst of cowards."

Cato spoke without noticing that Drubgurz, the Orc that greeted them at the gate, had just entered the tavern, though he would likely have done the same even if he were aware of this. For one normally so rough, Drub opened the door with surprisingly little noise and stepped right up behind the armoured man, his muscled form towering over the Imperial. He clasped a hand roughly on Cato's shoulder.

"What did you say?"

"I said deserters don't deserve the honour you give them," Cato repeated himself.

"You think you're so much better than us?"

The man turned around, staring up at the large Orsimer without a hint of fear, "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Mmm," Drub grunted. "I fought for the Empire. Long enough to recognize that blade of yours as Akaviri design."

"That's right," the Imperial rose to his feet as if trying to match the Orc's height. "What of it?"

"If I'm not mistaken, that means you're a member of a certain group sworn to protect the Empire. You've abandoned your duty as much as any of us here. Way I see it, you're a perfect fit for our little band of...heh, bandits."

"You're mistaken about one thing. The Blades might've failed in the end, but we've always fought faithfully and honourably for the Empire."

Drub let out a mocking chuckle, "Surely by now you've realized that war isn't about honour? It's about blood- how much you're willing to spill and how much you can lose. Let me demonstrate..."

Asa predicted what was about to happen next before the Orc even raised his fist. It swung straight for the Imperial's face, and from the speed and ferocity of the move Drubgurz was holding nothing back. All this strength was wasted however, as the blow never connected. Cato was ready for it and ducked beneath the incoming hammer of green muscle, sending his own fist, wrapped in a gauntlet, directly into the Orsimer's chest. Drub stumbled backwards into a table, spilling the tankards atop it and sending its occupants skittering away.

The massive Orc simply laughed it off, "Not bad. You've got some fight in you after all."

The unraveling events had caught the attention of the entire tavern now, who all stood up to watch as the two opponents began to circle one another. Asa leapt to her feet as well, though not to observe the fight. She stepped forward to stop it, but as she tried to pull away from her position she felt something holding her arm. Looking down, she could see nothing there. She tried to yank herself free and once more this invisible force appeared to be grasping her though not hard enough to restrain her. It was more of a gentle tug, a subtle message for her and her alone.

An equally subtle voice spoke to her amidst the loud cheers of the brigands, "Let the men fight it out."

Asa looked around her to determine the source of this voice, and concluded that the only possibility was the black-robed figure behind her, the only other woman in the room. One of her hands was outstretched, and having previously guessed that she was a practitioner of magic, it was likely an application of telekinesis that seized Asa's wrist. Across the room, Drub blocked a series of punches from Cato before landing a hit on the man's armoured torso, a blow that seemed to hurt both of them. Having been prevented from intervening, Asa turned to the hooded mage.

"This isn't your business."

"And it's not yours either," the woman responded. "If you help him, you'll just make him look weak. Don't worry. Drubgurz won't hurt your friend too much."

Cato managed to break through the Orc's defenses yet again and knock him back towards the table. He braced on the round surface and immediately spun around it before tipping the entire thing over. Its contents rolled onto the floor, forcing his opponent back a step. When the former Blade resumed his advance, the massive Orsimer had lifted the entire table and used it as a makeshift shield. The Imperial's fist slammed into the wood, which sent him reeling and allowed Drub to counterattack. He struck true a few times, but it seemed to have little effect on the armoured man.

"I'm more worried about Drub," Asa said. "If Cato gets into trouble, both of us might get kicked out of the fort."

The mage shook her head, "He is a man of principle. He will not kill without cause. This is one of the few times it will benefit him."

"How can you tell? You haven't even met him properly."

Drub continued his relentless assault, but he was getting more careless every swing. Cato blocked his left fist, took hold of his right arm, and from there it turned into a grapple. Both were strong and heavy, and what the man lacked for in weight he made up for with armour. They struggled to bring each other to the ground. The Orc finally grew tired and broke the stalemate by smashing his head against Cato's. This time it was the Imperial that went stumbling. By what appeared to be coincidence he ended up close to where his blade and shield laid against the counter, but he did not make for either of them, opting to lunge back into the melee with his bare hands.

"My dear, I've seen many of his kind," stated the woman. "I can tell."

"I can't risk making an enemy of these people," Asa replied. "The Pale can be dangerous enough as it is now."

"Nothing will hurt a pretty face like yours. You don't need the darkness. Stay in the light."

"What?"

When Asa had focused on the robed woman, Cato had somehow brought the Orc down and was now on top of him. She only noticed due to the room having gone almost totally quiet. He unleashed a series of punches onto the Orsimer's head but abruptly stopped without seeming to exert much effort in holding himself back. The former Blade simply ceased to fight when he knew that his opponent had taken enough. Not a single noise permeated this cold moment of triumph. Then, a laugh from a bloodied Drubgurz broke the silence, and he clasped the Imperial once more on the shoulder, pushing him away as he got to his feet.

"I think we got a new champion!" he announced to the tavern before lowering his voice an octave and turning to Cato. "Forget that honour stuff. You're good. You're a survivor. Be proud of that."

Drub headed off without giving the Imperial a chance for rebuttal, leaving him in front of an astounded crowd. Asa chose not to join the mass praise and instead looked back to the other woman. But when she turned her head, the mage was nowhere to be found, and Asa had been watching the area where the only exit was located. The mysterious figure had seemingly vanished, the only trace of her existence being the now empty cup on Asa's table.