I opened my eyes. Dim torch light illuminated my surroundings. I lay upon a cold, rough surface. Looking down, I saw it was cobblestone.
I shivered, realizing I had been stripped of my cloak. The torch, resting on it’s sconce, provided little to no warmth. As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I noticed a dusty horse blanket rolled up in a corner of the cell. Taking it, I threw it over myself, trying not to think how dirty the blanket was.
My stomach growled, and my gaze slid to the bolted iron door, hoping whoever kept me in here would feed me soon. Feeling my strength being sapped by hunger, eventually I could no longer sit up.
I must have passed out, because suddenly, a guard loomed over me. In his hand was a bowl of gruel. Licking my lips in anticipation, the guard set the bowl down in front of me. Ravenous, I ate the gruel despite it’s bland taste. I nodded my thanks to the guard, who picked up the bowl and exited the cell. The iron door to the cell slammed shut with a bang.
An hour later, the same guard reappeared in the cell. This time, he carried something other than the bowl. Curious, I looked at the guard. Dropping the bundle he was carrying in front of me, he lifted the visor on the helmet concealing a familiar face.
“Seltian?” I coughed hoarsely, unable to believe my eyes.
“How did you….”
Seltian cut me off. “The Guild sent me. Posing as a guard actually wasn’t as difficult as you might think,” he said, grinning. “The Captain of the Guard apparently doesn’t know one guard from another.”
He lifted the cloth off of the bundle, revealing my bow; as well as my ebony sword and various other weapons.
“Who let you take my equipment?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, no one exactly ‘let’ me take anything, but I took it all the same.” he replied with a laugh. “I’m sure they won’t mind… anymore.”
He went to the door, dragging in a pile of leather armor, as well as my cloak.
Thanking him, I quickly equipped my armor and weapons. “Let’s get going,” Seltian said. I nodded in agreement. Discarding the horse blanket, I walked through the door, Seltian following.
Suddenly, the sound of boots came from the entrance to the prison. Exchanging a horrified glance with Seltian, I dove behind a weapon rack to conceal myself.
Seltian stood beside me, straightening his posture as a guard walked towards him. “I’ve come to relieve you,” he grunted. An Orc, by the sound of him. Seltian hesitated.
“I don’t really have anything to do tonight, I could stay for a little while longer.” he said.
“My orders are to relieve you. Go, Now.” the Orc grunted firmly.
Too quick for the Orc to react, Seltian pulled out his longsword, slamming the pommel into the side of the Orc’s head. Sparks flew from the blade as it connected with the Orc’s skull.
The Orc’s eyes rolled up as he slid to the ground. “He should be out for a couple of hours,” Seltian said, electricity arcing up his arm. Stepping over him, I studied his face. “Quite a few hours, by the look of him.” I said.
Climbing the steps, I exited the prison. Above me, the sky was an indigo blue, as if the sun had just set. Stars dotted the sky, casting light upon the city below.
“What now?” I asked Seltian.
“Sylith told me, to tell you, that Cyrus is currently at Skaven, gods know why. You should be able to meet him there.” he said.
“Now, just the matter of getting out of the city.”
“I could get a horse at the stables near the main gate,” I said.
“The gate is heavily guarded,” Seltian warned. “It’ll be difficult to get past them without them recognizing you.”
“Even so, I won’t get far without a horse.” I said. “I’ll have to go through the gate.”
“Try to remain inconspicuous, then.” Seltian replied.
“I always do,” I said, raising the cowl of my cloak over my face. “Thanks.”
Seltian nodded, smiling. “Not a problem, my friend.” He walked away, headed for the northern part of the city.
Choosing the route to the gate with the least number of guards, I began to make my way through the streets of Wayrest. It was not a particularly busy night, with few citizens scattering the streets.
As I approached the stables, a horse nickered to me, tossing its head. I noticed it was already saddled. Entering the pen, I led the horse out of the stable.
Making sure no one was watching, I mounted the horse. As I rode to the gates, I heard a shout.
“Stop! Horse Thief!”
Suddenly, the area was alive with guards. Two guards began to chase me, swords drawn. I urged the horse into a gallop, racing ahead of the pursuing guards.
“Lower the gates!” came a voice behind me. Bow in hand, I watched a guardswoman approach a chain, presumably used to lower the portcullis. Immediately, I nocked an arrow. As the guard reached for the chain, an arrow embedded itself in her palm. Screaming in pain, she fell to one knee as blood streamed from her hand.
As I neared the gate, the woman outstretched her other hand to pull the chain. As she did so, I reached into my cloak and drew out a throwing knife. At the same time she pulled the chain, the knife embedded itself in the gear the chain wrapped itself around.
As the gear jammed for a few mere seconds, the horse sped past the gates. Its hooves churned the ground beneath it, sending a cloud of dust trailing behind. Guiding the horse off of the main road, I nocked another arrow in case I was being pursued.
As I turned around in the saddle, I saw the guards give up the chase. There was no way they could catch up to me on foot. Turning to the south, I began to make my way to Hammerfell.
The man knelt down, trying to read the invisible signs inscribed upon the sand. He tried to pick up the sand, but the tiny stones slipped between his fingers. His red cape billowed in the wind, revealing a shining chestplate. The man bore no helmet, his face wrapped in the shadows of his robes.
After studying the ground for a short while, he made out hoofprints imprinted on the sand. As the sun rose, the shadows were lifted from his face. He smiled. He was on the trail once more.