While Arvel was sneaking into the residence, Roy and Flynn came to a smithy called Warmaiden's. A young, tanned, and beautiful lady was working on something. She was wearing a grey leather skirt, and her curves were perfect. The Dragonborn was stunned the moment he saw her, and Roy had to make him snap out of it.
"Welcome to Warmaiden's. I'm Adrianne Avenicci." The blacksmith wiped the sweat off her forehead and grinned toothily at the duo. Flynn was mesmerized. Nice skin, beautiful body, big rear. Good for getting many kids. By Talos, this is the perfect woman I've always wanted. If I get a residence here, I'm going to court this woman, but… "Avenicci?" Flynn paused for a moment. He was reminded of a brooding old man with a balding head. That's the Steward's name. "Dear lady, is the Steward…"
Adrianne looked at the humble Dragonborn. "He's my father."
Whoa. And you're doing blacksmith work? With your father's power and your beauty, you could've made it big in life.
Noticing his question, Adrianne smiled. "I like my work, no matter what my father can give me. I just want to prove that I'm every bit as competent as any other blacksmith. So, what would you like? Weapons? Armor? Crafting materials? Warmaiden has everything."
"Um, we found a ton of ancient Nordling weapons when we were adventuring. Do you buy these too?" Flynn put on his best smile and tried his best to hide his desire to woo this woman.
Adrianne mused over it for a moment. "Any samples I can see?"
Roy whipped out some ancient Nordling weapons and laid them out on the workstation, then he gave the Dragonborn a look. Ah, to be young.
"Where did you find these? They're almost corroded all the way through. I'd call these antiques, but they're really just junk. I can probably salvage them and extract some materials. If you really want to sell these, they're going to be worth a lot less than most weapons." Adrianne looked at them. "Seventeen coins for two-handed weapons. Thirteen for one-handed weapons, and forty-five for bows."
"Um, what if we have a lot of them? Can we get a better offer?"
"How many are we talking about?" Adrianne put her hands on her hips, and the look in her eyes turned a bit more solemn. Her curves showed off even more too.
"About a hundred."
"Sorry?"
"Thirty two-handed swords, sixty one-handed swords, and ten battle-bows. Can you buy all of them?"
Adrianne's jaw dropped, and she had a look of disbelief on her face. "Come in. I need to talk to my husband and see if we have enough funds."
Thunderstruck, the Dragonborn paled. A husband? She's married? By Talos, why must my love be ripped away from me so soon? He trudged into the shop like a defeated rooster.
"Just a moment, customers." A short, stocky man with a full beard stood behind the counter. He had a war-hammer on his back, and he smiled at the duo.
Adrianne was quiet and docile in the presence of this man, and Flynn was envious. She's the daughter of the Steward. Beautiful, curvaceous, and a hard working blacksmith. Why'd she marry a man this ugly? Is there something special about him?
A while later, War-Bear spoke, and the lightning-shaped scar on the corner of his left eye glinted. "This is going to sell for at least seventeen hundred gold coins. It's about half a house in this keep. Good thing the patrol captain bought a ton of weapons and paid a lot of coins. We'll take this business, and we will pay a bit more too."
Roy went to the corner of the shop and waved his hand in the air, then a ton of blackened, rusty ancient Nordling weapons covered the ground. Among them was a full set of armor. The armor he got from that empire soldier when he first came to this world.
Adrianne and her husband quickly did the inventory, and it took them half an hour. By the end of it, they were sweating buckets. "The weapons are worth 1740 coins, and the armor's worth two hundred. We'll put in a bit more and make it two grand. If that's fine with you, we can make the payment right away."
Roy and Flynn pretended to hesitate for a while.
Adrianne quickly gushed, "If you think you can ask for more, then consult Eorlund. I bet he's not going to offer as much as we do!"
"Adrianne!" War-Bear shot Adrianne a look, and his wife stayed silent.
"Fine. Twenty-one hundred. How about it? That's all the coins we have." War-Bear sighed, and he seemed to wince a little. "If you want more, then I'm afraid we'll have to decline this exchange."
"Deal." With that out of the way, Roy now had twenty-six hundred gold coins (including the ones he gained from the adventure in the temple) and three lesser soul gems.
***
Flynn was still eyeing Adrianne, and Roy was trying to split the earnings with him, but he refused. "Goldeneye, you made these coins fair and square. Keep it, or I'll be taking it as an insult. When you make enough to buy a house, just let me crash for a few days."
Roy smiled and took the coins for himself. Adrianne then talked to the duo about how weapons and armor were split into different qualities. Most commoners in Skyrim wore regular clothes, but those with a bit of money could make themselves some leather armor and iron weapons. Anything more than that would be expensive. Then there was also steel armor and protective gear made of fine leather. That was only available for soldiers like the empire's army or Balgruuf's guards. Plate armor was exclusive to high-ranking soldiers. That, or the owner must be really rich.
Then there was beastmen armor, elven armor, Falmer armor, and armor made by Dwemer out of special metals. They were stronger than most steel gear, but they were heavier too. Then there was glass armor. They were beautiful and powerful, and they were the standard armor for Thalmorians. An enchanted glass sword was rare and valuable enough to be a family heirloom. Everyone in Skyrim would love to have one.
And then there was ebony ingot. That was the hardest ore in Skyrim to work on. Most blacksmiths couldn't use it to make anything. Only a grandmaster could make ebony items, and they were proud of that.
The sword that merged with Aerondight was an ebony sword, and Sanguine made it just to play a game.
Everything Warmaiden had were cheap items. Leather armor, iron armor, and engraved iron armor took up most of the shop. There was only a set of steel armor. Roy needed more. He asked Adrianne to keep an eye out for rare materials. After all, he still had Gabriel to power up.
The duo then left the smithy and met up with Arvel.
"There's a woman going around the residence, so I couldn't find any clues about Thorald." Arvel shook his head, and then he narrowed his eyes. "But on my way back, I took a letter from our drinking buddy, Jon."
"You took a letter from him?"
"Alright, fine, I stole it from him. He clearly had something on his mind, and since he's a Battle-Born, I struck when he strayed off into a remote corner." Arvel whipped out a yellowing letter and laid it out in front of his companions.
'Jon, I know it's hard on you, but please, hold your longing in. We must keep our love hidden especially at a time like this. If our clans find out, no, if they even suspect us of having a relationship, we will both be ruined.
But I promise you that the day will come where we do not have to hide our love anymore.'
The trio looked excited, and Flynn's eyes shone. "Arvel, you're a talented bastard. If the day comes when we need more money, perhaps you can… steal for a bit."
"I am not a member of the Thieves Guild, mate. In most cases, I will not steal," Arvel quickly said.
"Whoa, just kidding." Flynn shrugged. "So this means Jon is having a relationship with someone from the Grey-Mane Clan. That must be it. The content tells us all we have to know, but gods this reads like some drama-filled love story. Two young members of rivaling clans falling in love with each other and meeting up in secret."
"And how do you know it's the young ones?" Arvel smiled. "Jon might be dating an old lady. Some people love older women, especially people like Jon. He's a drinker. He could've started this relationship in a drunken episode."
"And that's where you got his alcoholism wrong. He only became an alcoholic because he couldn't embrace his lover openly. That triggered some form of depression, and he had to push it down." Roy was reminded of Coral, and he sighed. "I can't say I blame him. Before Ulfric betrayed the empire, the clans were not enemies. They were as close as two families could be, so it's possible that some of their members married each other."
"Not now, though. Marriage between members of these clans is taboo." Arvel nodded. "So why don't we use this as leverage? Jon owes us one anyway."
The trio exchanged a look and nodded.
***
Jon was standing right outside Arcadia's Cauldron, his arms crossed, the look on his face dark. Things had not been going well for the Battle-Born. He lost a drinking challenge to some scrawny brat, and all the drinkers in Whiterun laughed at him for that. Even the useless man of a bard mocked him. To make things worse, the meeting with the lover he'd been looking forward to was canceled, and for some reason, he lost the letter she wrote to him. I hope no one from the clan sees it.
A gentle voice spoke from behind. "You seem troubled, friend."
"I lost my le… I made a big mistake!" Jon said, liquid courage egging him on.
"You mean this letter?" A slender hand appeared beside him, and in its palm was a letter he was very familiar with. The handwriting on it was one he knew too well, and his eyes went wide. The moment Jon tried to take the letter, the hand pulled back.
"Goldeneye? Arvel? Flynn? What is the meaning of this?" Jon stared wide-eyed at the grinning trio, and he followed them to a quiet corner, filled with frustration. "How'd you get that letter?"
"You really need to be careful with your possessions, mate." Arvel straightened out Jon's collar and lectured, "It fell right out of your clothes. You should not hide something so important in a place so unsafe."
"If we hadn't come across it, someone else might. And it might've been someone from your family too," said Flynn. "Jon is a rare name in Whiterun, and the content of this letter could've incriminated you."
"The second son of the Battle-Born having a sordid affair with a lady of the Grey-Mane Clan. Wonder if they're going to declare war." Arvel said, "Might kill off a lot of people if that happened."
Jon paled, then his face turned green, and then red, but it was not the time to question these people on how they got their hands on the letter. He looked at them and heaved a sigh. "Fine, what do you want? What do I have to do to get that letter back and keep your mouths shut?"
"Easy." Arvel smirked. "Just tell us where Thorald Grey-Mane is locked up."
"And how should I know about that?" Jon looked surprised, then he shook his head. "It was a shame. Could've been fine with supporting the rebels in secret, but he just had to join the protest. That was just asking for it. If you want answers, ask the Imperial soldiers."
"Yeah, right. We all know your clan contacts General Tulius and is close to him." Flynn looked into his eyes. "You must know something. Tell us, and we'll pretend we never saw this letter, and you'll have repaid your favor from losing the drinking game. In the name of Talos, I swear."
"You swear by your god's name?" Jon was tempted, and he had a conflicted look in his eyes. "Why do you help them? Have you finally decided to break the code of neutrality and join the racists? Goldeneye is no Nordling. The Stormcloaks will kick him out of Skyrim."
"No." Arvel mused for a moment, then he put on a noble act and repeated what Roy told him. "What we care about is Whiterun's safety. We'll do everything we can to protect it from the dragon’s attack. Grey-Mane Clan is willing to make a trade with us, but your father… Oh, that man is an arrogant git."
Jon sighed. "You're right, perhaps. I've had enough of this. This difference in political views has caused too much pain between our families. Olfina, my childhood friend, is forced to stay separate from me. Even when we show up in a room together, we'd still be too scared to hold hands." He laughed and took a deep breath.
"I support the Empire, but I despise Thalmor. Thorald wasn't taken away by the Empire; he was taken by Thalmor's envoy, and a small group of soldiers is taking him to Northwatch Keep. It's in northwest Skyrim. They've just departed Rorikstead and are somewhere near Whiterun. Tell the Grey-Manes to make their move soon, but be careful. Don't sacrifice themselves just to save one man."
A moment of silence ensued. Jon took the letter back and tucked it away in his clothes, then he patted it. "Do please keep this a secret."
"If my guess is right, you guys have been trying to find Thorald's whereabouts," Flynn said, his eyes glinting. "You only kept it a secret from the Grey-Manes so they wouldn’t send their members on a suicide mission."
Jon's face twitched, but he said nothing.
"You guys had a falling out on the surface and would start a fight every time you met, but the friendship between your clans can never be erased that easily," said Arvel.
"Thorald's my childhood friend." Jon smiled bitterly. "But this feud is bigger than us. What the young ones think mean nothing to the feud."
He was going to leave, but Roy told Arvel to stop him. "Do you really love Olfina?"
Jon looked at the overcast sky and harrumphed. "She will be the mother of my children."
"Does she love you as much?"
A hint of warmth filled Jon's eyes. "Of course. If it weren't for love, a woman would never go against her family just to fall in love with the enemy. If she's found out, she risks exile.
"Very well. Will you take a risk for once, for your wife?" Arvel looked at Jon with shining eyes.
"What are you trying to say? Battle-Borns know no fear, especially for our love."
"We have a plan that might give you a chance to be reunited with your lover." Arvel said, "But there are sacrifices to be made. Your family might see you as a traitor, but this is all for love."
"All for love?" Jon hesitated. "But why are you helping me?"
"We just don't want to see a loving couple get broken up," said Arvel nobly. Nah, it's just because my boss wants to do this.
"What should I do?" Jon licked his lips, and his eyes reflected the shape of an inverted triangle. Then emotions took over his mind.
"I'll be fanning the flames." Roy grinned.
***
Flynn came back to the Grey-Mane residence. He knocked on the door, and Fralia welcomed him in, but his companions were nowhere to be seen.
"So?" Fralia had concern in her eyes. "Any proof that my child is alive?"
Flynn looked around and saw, near the bonfire, a pretty, curvy young lady picking out potatoes from a basket. That woman was none other than Jon's lover—Olfina. She was about twenty years old, and she was beautiful, and she was listening to the conversation.
"Calm down, ma'am. Thorald is still alive, but he's in danger. He could die at any moment." The Dragonborn said with concern, "He was taken by Thalmor's envoy."
"What?" Fralia shot up and paced around the lounge. "How'd those disgusting elves get their hands on him? Where did you get the news?"
"What I'll say next might sound incredible, but do you know one Jon Battle-Born?"
The old woman got solemn. "Olfrid's second son? That brat is a chronic drinker. Why'd you bring this up? Wait…"
Olfina stopped working and held her breath.
"Yes. Jon told us about the clue. Thorald's already taken to Rorikstead, and he's on his way to save him."
"Impossible!" Fralia was in disbelief, and Olfina huddled closer, tugging on her sleeves nervously. "He's a Battle-Born. Why would he risk his neck to help us? He supports the Empire, so why's he foiling their plans?" That was not what Fralia expected to hear at all. She thought the Battle-Borns were behind Thorald's kidnapping.
"Jon's been keeping an eye out for Thorald. They're softies really, and you have to talk to your daughter." Flynn looked at the pale Olfina. "Jon wants to give her a gift and ask for her hand in marriage."
"By Talos! Olfina, you're seeing that Battle-Born boy?" Fralia's eyes went wide, and she pointed at her daughter angrily, her chest heaving. She couldn't believe her daughter was fornicating with the enemy.
Olfina teared up, and her lips trembled, but there was worry in her eyes, though not just for Thorald. "Not the time to talk, Fralia. I'll call Avulstein and Eorlund back right now." She left the house, muttering, "Please let them be fine, Talos. Please…"
***
Olfrid was proudly patrolling the shops in the Plains District. He was eyeing the rear of the woman selling ivory, and just when he was about to tease her, one of the trio showed up. It was the gaunt man with an eternal leer—Arvel.
He was muttering about Jon, Thorald, and Rorikstead as he went by Olfrid. "Hey, lad. Marvel, correct? What are you muttering about? Wanna tell me about it?"
"Ah, Master Olfrid. I ran into your son at the Bannered Mare. He had a bit much to drink and was talking about saving some guy named Thorald who got locked up in Rorikstead. And he said something about killing the Thalmors. Thought he was just being drunk, so I followed him, but he was already riding west."
"That fool! I've told him to never meddle with this matter!" Olfrid's face fell, and his arrogance disappeared, then he punched his fists together. His knuckles cracked. "I have two sons. That bastard can die for all I care."
Even though that was what he said, Olfrid still hurried off as fast as he could. A while later, the Battle-Borns and Grey-Manes ran into each other at the keep's entrance, and they cursed all the way to Rorikstead. Some of them were ready to fight too.
While Arvel was sneaking into the residence, Roy and Flynn came to a smithy called Warmaiden's. A young, tanned, and beautiful lady was working on something. She was wearing a grey leather skirt, and her curves were perfect. The Dragonborn was stunned the moment he saw her, and Roy had to make him snap out of it.
"Welcome to Warmaiden's. I'm Adrianne Avenicci." The blacksmith wiped the sweat off her forehead and grinned toothily at the duo. Flynn was mesmerized. Nice skin, beautiful body, big rear. Good for getting many kids. By Talos, this is the perfect woman I've always wanted. If I get a residence here, I'm going to court this woman, but… "Avenicci?" Flynn paused for a moment. He was reminded of a brooding old man with a balding head. That's the Steward's name. "Dear lady, is the Steward…"
Adrianne looked at the humble Dragonborn. "He's my father."
Whoa. And you're doing blacksmith work? With your father's power and your beauty, you could've made it big in life.
Noticing his question, Adrianne smiled. "I like my work, no matter what my father can give me. I just want to prove that I'm every bit as competent as any other blacksmith. So, what would you like? Weapons? Armor? Crafting materials? Warmaiden has everything."
"Um, we found a ton of ancient Nordling weapons when we were adventuring. Do you buy these too?" Flynn put on his best smile and tried his best to hide his desire to woo this woman.
Adrianne mused over it for a moment. "Any samples I can see?"
Roy whipped out some ancient Nordling weapons and laid them out on the workstation, then he gave the Dragonborn a look. Ah, to be young.
"Where did you find these? They're almost corroded all the way through. I'd call these antiques, but they're really just junk. I can probably salvage them and extract some materials. If you really want to sell these, they're going to be worth a lot less than most weapons." Adrianne looked at them. "Seventeen coins for two-handed weapons. Thirteen for one-handed weapons, and forty-five for bows."
"Um, what if we have a lot of them? Can we get a better offer?"
"How many are we talking about?" Adrianne put her hands on her hips, and the look in her eyes turned a bit more solemn. Her curves showed off even more too.
"About a hundred."
"Sorry?"
"Thirty two-handed swords, sixty one-handed swords, and ten battle-bows. Can you buy all of them?"
Adrianne's jaw dropped, and she had a look of disbelief on her face. "Come in. I need to talk to my husband and see if we have enough funds."
Thunderstruck, the Dragonborn paled. A husband? She's married? By Talos, why must my love be ripped away from me so soon? He trudged into the shop like a defeated rooster.
"Just a moment, customers." A short, stocky man with a full beard stood behind the counter. He had a war-hammer on his back, and he smiled at the duo.
Adrianne was quiet and docile in the presence of this man, and Flynn was envious. She's the daughter of the Steward. Beautiful, curvaceous, and a hard working blacksmith. Why'd she marry a man this ugly? Is there something special about him?
A while later, War-Bear spoke, and the lightning-shaped scar on the corner of his left eye glinted. "This is going to sell for at least seventeen hundred gold coins. It's about half a house in this keep. Good thing the patrol captain bought a ton of weapons and paid a lot of coins. We'll take this business, and we will pay a bit more too."
Roy went to the corner of the shop and waved his hand in the air, then a ton of blackened, rusty ancient Nordling weapons covered the ground. Among them was a full set of armor. The armor he got from that empire soldier when he first came to this world.
Adrianne and her husband quickly did the inventory, and it took them half an hour. By the end of it, they were sweating buckets. "The weapons are worth 1740 coins, and the armor's worth two hundred. We'll put in a bit more and make it two grand. If that's fine with you, we can make the payment right away."
Roy and Flynn pretended to hesitate for a while.
Adrianne quickly gushed, "If you think you can ask for more, then consult Eorlund. I bet he's not going to offer as much as we do!"
"Adrianne!" War-Bear shot Adrianne a look, and his wife stayed silent.
"Fine. Twenty-one hundred. How about it? That's all the coins we have." War-Bear sighed, and he seemed to wince a little. "If you want more, then I'm afraid we'll have to decline this exchange."
"Deal." With that out of the way, Roy now had twenty-six hundred gold coins (including the ones he gained from the adventure in the temple) and three lesser soul gems.
***
Flynn was still eyeing Adrianne, and Roy was trying to split the earnings with him, but he refused. "Goldeneye, you made these coins fair and square. Keep it, or I'll be taking it as an insult. When you make enough to buy a house, just let me crash for a few days."
Roy smiled and took the coins for himself. Adrianne then talked to the duo about how weapons and armor were split into different qualities. Most commoners in Skyrim wore regular clothes, but those with a bit of money could make themselves some leather armor and iron weapons. Anything more than that would be expensive. Then there was also steel armor and protective gear made of fine leather. That was only available for soldiers like the empire's army or Balgruuf's guards. Plate armor was exclusive to high-ranking soldiers. That, or the owner must be really rich.
Then there was beastmen armor, elven armor, Falmer armor, and armor made by Dwemer out of special metals. They were stronger than most steel gear, but they were heavier too. Then there was glass armor. They were beautiful and powerful, and they were the standard armor for Thalmorians. An enchanted glass sword was rare and valuable enough to be a family heirloom. Everyone in Skyrim would love to have one.
And then there was ebony ingot. That was the hardest ore in Skyrim to work on. Most blacksmiths couldn't use it to make anything. Only a grandmaster could make ebony items, and they were proud of that.
The sword that merged with Aerondight was an ebony sword, and Sanguine made it just to play a game.
Everything Warmaiden had were cheap items. Leather armor, iron armor, and engraved iron armor took up most of the shop. There was only a set of steel armor. Roy needed more. He asked Adrianne to keep an eye out for rare materials. After all, he still had Gabriel to power up.
The duo then left the smithy and met up with Arvel.
"There's a woman going around the residence, so I couldn't find any clues about Thorald." Arvel shook his head, and then he narrowed his eyes. "But on my way back, I took a letter from our drinking buddy, Jon."
"You took a letter from him?"
"Alright, fine, I stole it from him. He clearly had something on his mind, and since he's a Battle-Born, I struck when he strayed off into a remote corner." Arvel whipped out a yellowing letter and laid it out in front of his companions.
'Jon, I know it's hard on you, but please, hold your longing in. We must keep our love hidden especially at a time like this. If our clans find out, no, if they even suspect us of having a relationship, we will both be ruined.
But I promise you that the day will come where we do not have to hide our love anymore.'
The trio looked excited, and Flynn's eyes shone. "Arvel, you're a talented bastard. If the day comes when we need more money, perhaps you can… steal for a bit."
"I am not a member of the Thieves Guild, mate. In most cases, I will not steal," Arvel quickly said.
"Whoa, just kidding." Flynn shrugged. "So this means Jon is having a relationship with someone from the Grey-Mane Clan. That must be it. The content tells us all we have to know, but gods this reads like some drama-filled love story. Two young members of rivaling clans falling in love with each other and meeting up in secret."
"And how do you know it's the young ones?" Arvel smiled. "Jon might be dating an old lady. Some people love older women, especially people like Jon. He's a drinker. He could've started this relationship in a drunken episode."
"And that's where you got his alcoholism wrong. He only became an alcoholic because he couldn't embrace his lover openly. That triggered some form of depression, and he had to push it down." Roy was reminded of Coral, and he sighed. "I can't say I blame him. Before Ulfric betrayed the empire, the clans were not enemies. They were as close as two families could be, so it's possible that some of their members married each other."
"Not now, though. Marriage between members of these clans is taboo." Arvel nodded. "So why don't we use this as leverage? Jon owes us one anyway."
The trio exchanged a look and nodded.
***
Jon was standing right outside Arcadia's Cauldron, his arms crossed, the look on his face dark. Things had not been going well for the Battle-Born. He lost a drinking challenge to some scrawny brat, and all the drinkers in Whiterun laughed at him for that. Even the useless man of a bard mocked him. To make things worse, the meeting with the lover he'd been looking forward to was canceled, and for some reason, he lost the letter she wrote to him. I hope no one from the clan sees it.
A gentle voice spoke from behind. "You seem troubled, friend."
"I lost my le… I made a big mistake!" Jon said, liquid courage egging him on.
"You mean this letter?" A slender hand appeared beside him, and in its palm was a letter he was very familiar with. The handwriting on it was one he knew too well, and his eyes went wide. The moment Jon tried to take the letter, the hand pulled back.
"Goldeneye? Arvel? Flynn? What is the meaning of this?" Jon stared wide-eyed at the grinning trio, and he followed them to a quiet corner, filled with frustration. "How'd you get that letter?"
"You really need to be careful with your possessions, mate." Arvel straightened out Jon's collar and lectured, "It fell right out of your clothes. You should not hide something so important in a place so unsafe."
"If we hadn't come across it, someone else might. And it might've been someone from your family too," said Flynn. "Jon is a rare name in Whiterun, and the content of this letter could've incriminated you."
"The second son of the Battle-Born having a sordid affair with a lady of the Grey-Mane Clan. Wonder if they're going to declare war." Arvel said, "Might kill off a lot of people if that happened."
Jon paled, then his face turned green, and then red, but it was not the time to question these people on how they got their hands on the letter. He looked at them and heaved a sigh. "Fine, what do you want? What do I have to do to get that letter back and keep your mouths shut?"
"Easy." Arvel smirked. "Just tell us where Thorald Grey-Mane is locked up."
"And how should I know about that?" Jon looked surprised, then he shook his head. "It was a shame. Could've been fine with supporting the rebels in secret, but he just had to join the protest. That was just asking for it. If you want answers, ask the Imperial soldiers."
"Yeah, right. We all know your clan contacts General Tulius and is close to him." Flynn looked into his eyes. "You must know something. Tell us, and we'll pretend we never saw this letter, and you'll have repaid your favor from losing the drinking game. In the name of Talos, I swear."
"You swear by your god's name?" Jon was tempted, and he had a conflicted look in his eyes. "Why do you help them? Have you finally decided to break the code of neutrality and join the racists? Goldeneye is no Nordling. The Stormcloaks will kick him out of Skyrim."
"No." Arvel mused for a moment, then he put on a noble act and repeated what Roy told him. "What we care about is Whiterun's safety. We'll do everything we can to protect it from the dragon’s attack. Grey-Mane Clan is willing to make a trade with us, but your father… Oh, that man is an arrogant git."
Jon sighed. "You're right, perhaps. I've had enough of this. This difference in political views has caused too much pain between our families. Olfina, my childhood friend, is forced to stay separate from me. Even when we show up in a room together, we'd still be too scared to hold hands." He laughed and took a deep breath.
"I support the Empire, but I despise Thalmor. Thorald wasn't taken away by the Empire; he was taken by Thalmor's envoy, and a small group of soldiers is taking him to Northwatch Keep. It's in northwest Skyrim. They've just departed Rorikstead and are somewhere near Whiterun. Tell the Grey-Manes to make their move soon, but be careful. Don't sacrifice themselves just to save one man."
A moment of silence ensued. Jon took the letter back and tucked it away in his clothes, then he patted it. "Do please keep this a secret."
"If my guess is right, you guys have been trying to find Thorald's whereabouts," Flynn said, his eyes glinting. "You only kept it a secret from the Grey-Manes so they wouldn’t send their members on a suicide mission."
Jon's face twitched, but he said nothing.
"You guys had a falling out on the surface and would start a fight every time you met, but the friendship between your clans can never be erased that easily," said Arvel.
"Thorald's my childhood friend." Jon smiled bitterly. "But this feud is bigger than us. What the young ones think mean nothing to the feud."
He was going to leave, but Roy told Arvel to stop him. "Do you really love Olfina?"
Jon looked at the overcast sky and harrumphed. "She will be the mother of my children."
"Does she love you as much?"
A hint of warmth filled Jon's eyes. "Of course. If it weren't for love, a woman would never go against her family just to fall in love with the enemy. If she's found out, she risks exile.
"Very well. Will you take a risk for once, for your wife?" Arvel looked at Jon with shining eyes.
"What are you trying to say? Battle-Borns know no fear, especially for our love."
"We have a plan that might give you a chance to be reunited with your lover." Arvel said, "But there are sacrifices to be made. Your family might see you as a traitor, but this is all for love."
"All for love?" Jon hesitated. "But why are you helping me?"
"We just don't want to see a loving couple get broken up," said Arvel nobly. Nah, it's just because my boss wants to do this.
"What should I do?" Jon licked his lips, and his eyes reflected the shape of an inverted triangle. Then emotions took over his mind.
"I'll be fanning the flames." Roy grinned.
***
Flynn came back to the Grey-Mane residence. He knocked on the door, and Fralia welcomed him in, but his companions were nowhere to be seen.
"So?" Fralia had concern in her eyes. "Any proof that my child is alive?"
Flynn looked around and saw, near the bonfire, a pretty, curvy young lady picking out potatoes from a basket. That woman was none other than Jon's lover—Olfina. She was about twenty years old, and she was beautiful, and she was listening to the conversation.
"Calm down, ma'am. Thorald is still alive, but he's in danger. He could die at any moment." The Dragonborn said with concern, "He was taken by Thalmor's envoy."
"What?" Fralia shot up and paced around the lounge. "How'd those disgusting elves get their hands on him? Where did you get the news?"
"What I'll say next might sound incredible, but do you know one Jon Battle-Born?"
The old woman got solemn. "Olfrid's second son? That brat is a chronic drinker. Why'd you bring this up? Wait…"
Olfina stopped working and held her breath.
"Yes. Jon told us about the clue. Thorald's already taken to Rorikstead, and he's on his way to save him."
"Impossible!" Fralia was in disbelief, and Olfina huddled closer, tugging on her sleeves nervously. "He's a Battle-Born. Why would he risk his neck to help us? He supports the Empire, so why's he foiling their plans?" That was not what Fralia expected to hear at all. She thought the Battle-Borns were behind Thorald's kidnapping.
"Jon's been keeping an eye out for Thorald. They're softies really, and you have to talk to your daughter." Flynn looked at the pale Olfina. "Jon wants to give her a gift and ask for her hand in marriage."
"By Talos! Olfina, you're seeing that Battle-Born boy?" Fralia's eyes went wide, and she pointed at her daughter angrily, her chest heaving. She couldn't believe her daughter was fornicating with the enemy.
Olfina teared up, and her lips trembled, but there was worry in her eyes, though not just for Thorald. "Not the time to talk, Fralia. I'll call Avulstein and Eorlund back right now." She left the house, muttering, "Please let them be fine, Talos. Please…"
***
Olfrid was proudly patrolling the shops in the Plains District. He was eyeing the rear of the woman selling ivory, and just when he was about to tease her, one of the trio showed up. It was the gaunt man with an eternal leer—Arvel.
He was muttering about Jon, Thorald, and Rorikstead as he went by Olfrid. "Hey, lad. Marvel, correct? What are you muttering about? Wanna tell me about it?"
"Ah, Master Olfrid. I ran into your son at the Bannered Mare. He had a bit much to drink and was talking about saving some guy named Thorald who got locked up in Rorikstead. And he said something about killing the Thalmors. Thought he was just being drunk, so I followed him, but he was already riding west."
"That fool! I've told him to never meddle with this matter!" Olfrid's face fell, and his arrogance disappeared, then he punched his fists together. His knuckles cracked. "I have two sons. That bastard can die for all I care."
Even though that was what he said, Olfrid still hurried off as fast as he could. A while later, the Battle-Borns and Grey-Manes ran into each other at the keep's entrance, and they cursed all the way to Rorikstead. Some of them were ready to fight too.
