Chapter Text
4E 201 21st of Midyear
The bitter wind rolling off the Sea of Ghosts cut through her the moment the ship entered the harbor. The stone docks were alive with movement, workers carrying crates of goods stamped with the badges of different shipping companies, or striking a consistent rhythm with their tools, the clangs echoing off the dark walls of the city. They had arrived in Windhelm, Ysgramor’s city, one the first great Nord settlements on Tamriel. Its stones, carved and placed here millenia ago during the Merethic era bore the weight of a history that could make anyone take pause. With her hair standing on end, and a far deeper chill in her body than the wind could ever create, the woman teetered on her toes, gazing at the walls with an excitement that bordered on enrapture.
“Well lass, you finally made it off the island,” the captain of the ship remarked, placing a firm hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “Though I can’t say I’d want to be in your boots with what that wizard wants you to get.”
“I can’t believe I’m finally here,” she practically shook with excitement as the mooring lines were tossed to waiting dock hands. “Thank you so much Gjalund!”
The ship pulled smoothly in, thudding gently against the stone dock.
“Well you know you can always count on the Northern Maiden for a smooth journey–” Gjalund began, though the woman he addressed had already leapt off the deck of the ship, taking her first steps onto the Windhelm docks.
“Hey– Lyell! Stay safe now! Kyne be with you!”
Lyell waved back at the ship, the captain’s shout ushering her along faster, up the steps into the great city. Her hand traced the stones as she pounded up the stairs, the texture under her fingertips cool and rough. She adjusted her pack, excitement buzzing through her. A new city. A new land. A new–
Task.
She remembered as her fingers brushed over a brooch pinned to the strap on her pack. The outline of a tree surrounded by swirls. The symbol of her master’s house, and a reminder that she had been sent to Skyrim for a reason– to collect a staff. Not just any, but a staff made by the famed Azra Nightwielder, and according to her rather eccentric master’s divinations, it should be located somewhere in the southern reaches of Skyrim. Based on the map Lyell was lent by a friend back on the island, the staff was likely located not far from the city of Falkreath, though she was hesitant to trust many of the surrounding landmarks, as the map lent to her was drawn nearly 200 years prior by a cartographer in the East Empire Trading Company and left on the island she called home.
The island of Solstheim– home – had never felt like a place that allowed for “new” things. Much like her map, everything there was old, weathered, or buried under ash and snow that never quite lifted and left the land obscured. Even the sea around it felt heavier, as if the world itself had narrowed in around the island. And although it was all she knew, the small island had long since been outgrown by Lyell, the familiarity of its rugged coasts and sharp peaks stifling her curious mind. But she wasn’t home anymore.
Lyell blinked, shaking the thought loose.
“Excuse me miss, care to buy some flowers?” A voice stopped Lyell as she left the busy docks behind. She turned to find a girl no older than eleven, carrying a ragged basket full of assorted wildflowers, many Lyell recognised as useful alchemical ingredients.
“Sure, and I don’t suppose I could bother such a resourceful young lady to show me around the city for a few extra coins?” Lyell smiled broadly handing the girl a pouch of gold.
“Really? You can have all my flowers, and I’ll show you whatever you want to see here!” The girl beamed, practically dropping the flowers and gold in her excitement. “My name is Sofie!”
“I’m Lyell, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Lyell held the girl's hands, preventing her from dropping anything.
After carefully securing their traded goods in their respective satchels and pockets, the pair made their way to the entrance from the docks, the young girl leading Lyell to the main gate of the city.
“The doors to the city are absolutely huge, and you know they say that Ysgramor himself built the whole city right?” Sofie bounded ahead. “And right near the entrance is Candlehearth hall, where there is this magic candle that has never gone out!”
Sofie was right, the doors were large, but Lyell’s attention was caught on a pair of Nord men and a Dunmer woman just near the entrance.
“You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks,” one of the Nord men said, pointing aggressively at the Dunmer.
"But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!" The Dunmer held her hands out, seeming both nervous and exasperated.
"Hey, maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"
Right. The war.
She had heard about it in pieces back on Solstheim, snatches of conversation from sailors and traders, none of it ever fully explained. Something about Skyrim breaking into factions. Something about the Empire. Something about the Thalmor, spoken with a tension that never quite made sense to her.
Here, it wasn’t abstract.
Lyell frowned slightly. So this was what people meant. Not battles in distant holds. Not political speeches or campfire arguments. Just this, people shouting in the street, deciding who belonged and who didn’t.
“Miss Lyell?” Sofie’s voice cut through her thoughts as the girl tugged on her hand. “Was there anything else you wanted to see?”
The conflict seemed to have settled. The Dunmer woman stood sighing by the street as the Nord men finally moved off, their voices fading into the city noise.
“Yes… the market if you could, I need some supplies before I head out.”
Lyell let Sofie lead her deeper into the city, past narrow streets that opened suddenly into the bustle of the market.
Stalls crowded the edge of the square– wooden tables piled with produce, furs, metalwork, and odd trinkets that caught the light in dull flashes. The air smelled of smoked meat, iron, and damp stone warmed by the sun.
“Here we are!” Sofie said brightly. “The Market. You can get food, armour, anything really. And there’s The White Phial, but the guy there is a rather grumpy old man, so I wouldn’t go there unless you want to get yelled at–”
Lyell let out a soft laugh.
“–though maybe it was my fault,” Sofie added quickly, sheepish now. “I didn’t collect enough flowers that time.”
Lyell smiled, shaking her head as her eyes drifted over the stalls.
A Dunmer merchant noticed her and brightened. “You look like someone who appreciates fine things. Come, browse my wares.”
Lyell stepped closer, fingers brushing over a bundle of supplies. “I’ll need camping gear. And preserved meat, if you have it.”
Before the man could answer another voice cut in from the side. “This one is new to the city Brother.”
The Dunmer woman from the gate stepped into view, as if she had simply been part of the stall all along. Her tone was lighter than before, but still edged with weariness.
“She looked ready to take Rolff’s head off for bothering me earlier,” she said, nodding toward Lyell before offering a hand. “Suvaris. And this is my brother, Aval.”
Lyell shook her hand. “Lyell. And… I’m sorry I didn’t step in. I didn’t want to drag Sofie into it. Seemed like they were really giving you trouble though.”
"Nothing new there. Most of the Nords living in Windhelm don't care much for us, but Rolff is the worst by far,” Suvaris groaned. “He likes to get drunk and walk around the Gray Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the morning. A real charmer, that one."
Lyell’s expression tightened slightly.
She glanced past the stalls, toward the colder edges of the city where stone and shadow seemed to gather more tightly together. “Right…”
Aval, meanwhile, had already begun gathering supplies. “Simple kit, tent, bedroll, dried meat. Seventy-five septims.”
“Thank you for the goods,” Lyell said, fastening the camping supplies to the outside of her pack and taking the bag of dried meat. “It was nice meeting you.”
Sofie stayed close at her side, watching as Lyell finished packing. The girl smiled when she looked up at her again, and Lyell found herself returning naturally. She reminded her of her little sister back on Solstheim, though Sofie was much younger.
“Alright, Sofie,” Lyell said, hoisting her pack back onto her shoulders. “Who do I talk to about directions? I’ve got quite a journey ahead.”
She reached over and gently ruffled the girl’s hair.
Sofie giggled. “For directions… you could ask the carriage driver. You could probably even get a ride if you’ve got the gold.”
“That sounds perfect,” Lyell said, already reaching for her coin pouch. “Would you mind being my guide a little longer?”
Sofie’s eyes lit up as the coins changed hands, her excitement immediate and unhidden.
“Of course! Come on, this way!” She hurried ahead, tucking the gold away as she went.
Lyell’s smile lingered as she followed the young girl out the gates. With the loud thunk of the gate closing behind her, the wind that she had almost begun to miss in the sheltered city swept her hair from her face, tugging at the furs of her armor as if it were bidding her along.
Ahead, Sofie was already several paces on. “Come on, Miss Lyell! The carriage is at the end of the bridge!”
Lyell followed, stepping onto the ancient stone span. Vendors and guards lined the edges, their voices carried off into the open space instead of trapped within it. The late morning sun struck the bridge directly, forcing her to narrow her eyes against the glare.
But as she adjusted to the light, the view beyond the bridge settled into place.
Like the world itself had finally stepped back to let her see it properly, and the view stretched out before her in full, unbroken breadth. Mountains rose beyond Windhelm, vast and distant snow-capped peaks cutting bright against the sky. Below them, forests rolled across the land in sweeping bands of green and gold, spreading farther than her eyes could settle on at once.
She laughed once, quietly, before she could stop herself.
In a single glance, her world had just grown larger.
Before she could root herself into the stones, a hand gripped Lyell’s, tugging her along as Sofie circled back to collect the awestruck woman. At the end of the bridge, though not quite as bustling as the city, the stables and carriages were circled by workers and merchants, busying themselves with goods and other tasks.
“Aye, got another shipment of goods heading to Darkwater Crossing, then onward to Riften.” Lyell overheard a man call out as he loaded sacks of goods onto a horse drawn carriage.
Sofie was already beside the animal, gently patting its flank.
“By the gods… a horse. A real horse,” Lyell breathed, staring. “I’ve only read about them. It’s— it’s beautiful.”
The man chuckled, handing Sofie an apple for the animal. “Never seen a horse before? Just where in Oblivion have you been hiding, lass?”
“Solstheim,” Lyell said, still a little wide-eyed. “It’s my first time off the island. The horses there died after the Red Mountain eruption… I’ve never seen one in person before.”
“Ah.” The man’s tone softened slightly. “Well then, you’re in luck.”
He straightened, offering a hand. “Alfarinn. What can I help you with?”
“Directions, I’m looking to get to a cave– or maybe it’s a crypt, in the Southern part of Falkreath…” Lyell rustled through the pouch by her hip, producing an aged map on parchment. “My map’s a bit outdated, so I don’t want to wander off course.”
“Well let’s see here,” Alfarinn looked closer as Lyell pointed to the relative area she had been told to search.
“I’m hoping it’s somewhere around there,” she said, hesitating slightly. “My source is… well. Let’s just say he’s unreliable at times. Though his divinations usually end up right.”
Alfarinn raised an eyebrow. “Working for a wizard, then? Not the kind of work I’d choose, but to each their own.”
He studied the map a moment longer before shaking his head. “Afraid I don’t know that stretch of road well enough. Best chance you’ll have is Falkreath itself… maybe Whiterun if you end up drifting that far north.”
Lyell tucked the map away, after one more decisive look.
“I’ll tell you what,” Alfarinn said, straightening. “I can take you as far as Darkwater Crossing. Get you familiar with the roads at least. Safer that way too.”
He gave her shoulder a light pat. “You’ve got quite the journey ahead of you.”
Lyell hesitated, then nodded. “I can pay you for the trouble. I have gold.”
He waved the idea off as he climbed up into the driver’s seat. “No need. Company’s payment enough. Gets lonely talking to a horse for hours.”
The horse shifted as if in agreement.
“Climb in back and we’ll be off.”
“Wait…” Sofie’s hand caught at Lyell’s sleeve before she had fully turned.
Lyell paused. For a moment, she had almost forgotten the girl was still there.
“I–” Sofie started, then shook her head slightly. “You have to go now?”
Lyell softened. She crouched slightly, ruffling Sofie’s hair one last time. “I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll have plenty to tell you.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Maybe I’ll even be your guide to Skyrim next time.”
Sofie brightened at that, but didn’t quite manage to hide the disappointment.
“Just be careful, Miss Lyell,” she said quietly. “And… thank you. For everything.”
Lyell climbed into the back of the cart.
“Bye, Sofie,” she called as the carriage shifted into motion. “I’ll see you again!”