Mage (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 32: A Change of Plans

"The knight is correct. So, I hope the mage understands this one's wariness about being in this new place now, yes?"

"That's just... I just..." I stumbled over my words, unable to articulate the incredible anger I felt towards whatever individuals enforced this particular practice. It was enough to deal with Vaermina's bullshit - I wasn't going to stand by and let some washed up, spiteful individuals trash or threaten one of my friends without doing something potentially drastic. "Do you think anyone's going to try and throw you out while we're here? Because if someone's going to start something-"

"I sincerely hope that it doesn't come to that. And the last thing any of us need, I'd think, is to anger the people who could be our only chance at getting our wagon repaired," the redguard cut in, giving me a pointed look, "I certainly don't like how they allow baseless bias to dictate who they do and don't allow into their community, but I highly doubt throwing a fit about it would do much to change anything. If anything, it would likely make things worse for everyone involved."

"And no one has given Kha'Drazza trouble yet. She hopes that perhaps she will be in Dawnstar for so short a time they will not care overmuch. So it would be wise to get moving."

"I guess you're right. Let's go and find those blacksmiths, then." I was still far from accepting of the horrendously bigoted climate I had only just now discovered Skyrim's larger communities had, but realized that, at least, for the moment, there was nothing productive I could do with my newfound anger.

The walk to the blacksmith's house was blessedly short, but, for me, far from uneventful. As we walked past the upper row of buildings, we passed a small group of individuals who were standing outside of what could only be a Jarl's residence, being kept from entering by two very frustrated-looking guards. 

"Well, why isn't the Jarl doing anything about this? I haven't slept well in weeks!"

"The people of Dawnstar can't continue living like this, you know. Why can't we hear from Skald himself about what he's been doing to try and bring this to an end?"

"He's doing the best he can. We all are," one of the guards responded, attempting to placate the disgruntled citizens demanding audience. "The Jarl is more than aware of this problem and complaining about it won't get it 'fixed' any more quickly."

"If he knows about it, then why hasn't he said anything to us?" One of the townsfolk shot back, clearly not buying his answer.

As I was doing my best to keep pace with my companions, I was far enough away from them at this point that I could not make out the guardswoman's reply. This is Vaermina's doing, that much is obvious. But how is she influencing a whole town of people like this? And what does she gain from any of it? It was beyond me what she wanted, aside from perhaps just some modicum of control over these unfortunate folks. But what would that achieve? Surely there was a more complex motive for preying on these townsfolk than just for the sake of manipulation.

Ruminating over that could wait, though, as I caught sight of two individuals hard at work in an open-air platform attached to what appeared to be their house, one hammering away at a piece of metal on an anvil and the other busy tanning some sort of hide. I decided that interrupting the person at the forge could prove considerably more dangerous to them than speaking with the one with the hide, so I approached the Nord working with the soon-to-be leather cautiously. "Pardon me, but do you by any chance do repairs?"

The man looked up from his work and regarded me and my companions silently for a second, replying, "Well, it depends on what you need fixed. What do you need?"