Mage (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 29: The Cost of Hubris

Noting the none-too-eager expression on Darich's face despite his generous offer, Andor shook his head slightly, saying, "A trip to Dead Man's Drink tonight would be more than enough of an apology. I think we could both use a couple pints to stave off the damp chill of this lovely Hold," he responded, his tone growing somewhat sarcastic as he finished.

"I can absolutely manage that," Darich agreed eagerly, "My treat."

"I was hoping you'd say that. Anyways, I'd better go. Hope no savage beasts show up while I'm gone," Andor teased as he took his leave, already anticipating the relief a well-deserved rest would soon bring him.

As he ambled back towards the barracks, Andor removed his somewhat vision-restricting helm, allowing his curly, albeit somewhat tangled, ash-blond locks to tumble down to rest just below his shoulders. He tilted his head backwards slightly and lifted his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension that had built up in his body during his shift as he walked, vertebrae cracking somewhat noisily as he did so. Letting out a relieved sigh, Andor's thoughts wandered back towards sleep, though he also found himself growing increasingly bored with how uniform his days had become. Ever since joining the Falkreath guard, his days had consisted of very little other than work, sleep, and uninteresting meals, with only the occasional drink. The promise of a drink with Darich later had to be the most exciting thing that had happened to him that week alone-perhaps even all month, not counting Jarl Siddgeir's somewhat entertaining alcohol-induced episode a fortnight prior. Gone were the days of trips out to the hot springs or futile attempts to capture and tame wolves that had amused him so much in his adolescence, and he was beginning to miss it. Nothing ever happened in Falkreath itself, and the general lack of variation and liveliness of the settlement was becoming a bit maddening to the young man. Even bandits seemed to have better things to do than attempt to sack a village whose greatest claim to fame was their cemetery-ruins would be far easier to loot, in most cases, and it was not as if there was anything of considerable value to take in the first place. The hold was just as dead as the inhabitants of their considerable burial grounds, as far as he was concerned, and even now, its citizens were little more than ghosts, largely forgotten even by their own province.

And, on the subject of ghosts, the youth thought to himself upon reaching the guards' rather humble quarters, pulling himself from his dissatisfied musing, it seems Haldor is up and about early again. Poor fellow. Can't even imagine what sort of horrors he's been through.

The individual in question was currently seated on a rough hewn chair that had been angled so that he was facing the rising sun, his gaunt, slightly-hollowed features and stringy, unwashed chestnut hair only accenting the dullness of his deep brown eyes and truly giving him the appearance of a dead man walking. Not surprising in the slightest, considering he had been one of the few survivors of the Forsworn occupation of Markarth. It was something they had asked him very little about, as initial attempts to gain any information from Haldor on the matter proved to be both unhelpful and highly unpleasant for him. Andor could not even imagine what he had lived through that left him this much of a passionless husk, and when comparing what happened to Markarth with the tediousness of Falkreath, he decided he would take the latter any day. Presently, the former Markarth guardsman was staring off listlessly into the distance, seeming both restless and void of purpose as he gazed at nothing in particular, almost as if transfixed by something Andor could not see.

The young man frowned at this, deciding it might be best to try and snap the troubled fellow out of, well, whatever was eating away at him at the moment. "Hey... You alright there?" He asked tentatively, attempting not to alarm the man as he walked over to him.