As Arvak and Shadowmere trotted down the path to Markarth, Luna took in the scenery around them. The area, she decided, was as picturesque as a sculptor's carvings. Her thoughts were interrupted by a low growling sound. Luna looked around, alarmed, and the growl sounded again. Looking down, she found the source of the sound.
It was her stomach. Ahead of her, Mikal snickered as he turned Arvak around to Shadowmere and the flustered Breton.
“Hungry, are we?”
Luna blushed, and Fjotra giggled from her spot in front of Luna. Mikal smiled and said, “I suppose we could take a break. Markarth is only an hour’s walk from here.”
He climbed off of Arvak’s back. As soon as Mikal’s feet touched the ground, Arvak crumpled and disappeared, energy crackling for a moment, then dispersing. Luna gaped at the spot where Arvak had vanished.
“What happened to Arvak?”
“He returned to the Soul Cairn. He only stays here for as long as I use him for a mount. Now then, how about you get off of Shadowmere so he can rest his ancient bones, eh?” The aforementioned horse tossed his mane and stomped his hoof in anger.
“They are too ancient! How long ago was it that Lachance rode you, hmm?” Shadowmere whickered softly and turned his head away. “
That’s what I thought.” The Argonian walked over to the sulking horse (There is no way that’s normal, thought Luna) and lifted Fjotra off of Shadowmere and onto the ground. He turned back to help Luna off, but to his surprise, she was already on the ground.
“I see someone knows her way around horses.” Luna blushed again.
“I don’t know how I knew what to do. It just felt…natural.”
“Perhaps you used to work with or around horses. Even if you didn’t, at least we know your memory isn’t completely gone.”
“Um…Mikal?” The Argonian turned to Fjotra, who was pointing into the woods with a scared look on her face. Peering in the direction of Fjotra’s gaze, he saw what had scared her.
Wolves.
Mikal swore under his breath…then an idea hit him. Drawing in air, his Thu’um touched the world once again.
“RAAN MIR TAH!”
A burst of golden energy flooded the area. When it faded, the three wolves were still there, but their stance was no longer hostile. The wolves regarded the group before turning and bounding off into the forest. Mikal turned to the bewildered females and grinned.
“Taken care of.” Luna shook her head in bewilderment.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” she asked.
“Oh, I assure you, I am not infallible or invincible. There was a time when I would have had to kill the wolves.”
Mikal strode up to Shadowmere and began rummaging through the saddlebags.
“Now then, I believe we were about to eat?”
One meal and an hour’s walk later, the group had neared the gates of Markarth. When the entrance entered her vision, Luna’s jaw dropped. The entrance was well fortified; being part of the surrounding mountain helped. She was shaken out of her shock when the two guards at the gate drew their swords.
“Halt! Who goes there?” Signaling to Shadowmere to stay put, Mikal took a step forwards, hands raised to show they were empty.
“Mikal, Thane to the Jarl of Markarth, with the new Sybil of Dibella and a champion of Nocturnal.” Underneath their helmets, the guards’ eyes widened.
“Oh...forgive us, Thane. We were just following orders.” Mikal smiled in response.
“Yes, you were. How unlike the last pair of guards you are.” The guards sheathed their swords and stood up straight.
“Please, go on through. If you wish, we can get someone to take care of your horse for you.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Mikal helped Fjotra off of Shadowmere again, and as before, Luna had already dismounted when he turned back around. Stepping around Luna, the pale Argonian dug through the saddlebags and came up with two pouches of gold, which he tossed to the guards.
“Here. Consider it a reward for, ah...following orders.” Both of the guards caught the pouches.
“Thank you, Thane.”
Mikal nodded to them, then turned and whispered into Shadowmere’s ear. Shadowmere snorted and shook his mane, then turned back and made his way to the stables.
“By the Eight, that’s a well-trained horse.” Smirking, Mikal strode past the guards, Luna and Fjotra following closely.
“Not well-trained. Just intelligent.” As the three entered Markarth, Luna looked at Mikal questioningly.
“‘Champion of Nocturnal?’” Mikal shrugged.
“Would you have rather I said ‘Memoryless woman instead?’”
“...You have a tongue of silver.”
“I prefer to think of it as saying what people want to hear.” Luna shook her head.
“You’re hopeless.”
“No, I’m silver-tongued.”
“Arrgh!”
Discord grumbled to himself as he walked up the incline to Markarth. Thanks to a daedric prince, most of his chaotic powers were gone. All he could currently do were illusions and minor reality manipulation. Really minor. At the very least, he had managed to hide his tail, wings, and horns, as those showed even in his human form, and would have gotten strange looks...well, more than he had already received. By the standards of Skyrim, Discord’s entire appearance was abnormal.
His skin was a pale grey, and his irises were red. His shaggy hair was pure white, and his snaggletooth still hung out of his mouth. A brown jacket hung open over a white shirt that read “CHAOS”. One of the jacket’s sleeves were yellow, and the other was gold. His pants were ragged, with a light brown left leg and a green right leg. His bare feet showed no signs of wear, and no matter what he walked on, sent no pain-filled signals.
The first chance, I get, that Sheo-whatever is getting the thrashing of his immortal existence. Discord’s grumblings were interrupted upon reaching Markarth’s gates. Ahead of him, five armored individuals were talking to the gate guards. One of them handed a guard a piece of parchment. The guards read the paper, then nodded and let the group through. Curious, Discord walked straight up to the guard with the paper and plucked it out of his hands.
“Hey, you can’t-” Discord snapped his fingers, and both guards stiffened, then returned to their posts. Now undisturbed, Discord read the parchment.
“The Argonian known as Mikal has been summoned by the Jarl of Falkreath. The five carrying this parchment and its copies have been sent to retrieve him.
- Jarl Siddgeir”
A cold sense of dread ran through Discord. As a creature of deception, he could see through lies, and this note was one big one. The entire thing was forged, which meant that this Mikal was in danger...wait a minute...Mikal was the native that helped Luna! And if the armored group saw Luna as an ally of Mikal...they’d kill her, too. The draconequus-turned-human ran into Markarth.
Luna was in danger, and he’d be damned before he let her get hurt. After all, she held the secrets of the moon, and no one could ever know them.
Don’t you dare die, Luna. I haven’t shown you my latest design for the moon’s surface yet!
Discord ran faster.