Snow fell from the sky and onto the ground. A dark hooded figure darted across the snow. He stopped when he saw the walls of the Stormcloak city before him. A gust of wind blew on him and he instinctively wrapped himself up in his black cape. The Nightingale hated being in Windhelm, but did he really have a choice? Jarl Balgruff had told him to give Ulfric Stormcloak an axe- if he kept it, then there would be peace. If he refused it, then may the war commence... He had counted on Ulfric being willing to discuss the topic of war against the Imperials.
What he hadn't planned on was getting lost in the snowy city. Normally, the Jarl's keep stood out like a sore thumb. Dragonsreach was enormous and sat at the highest part of Whiterun, for example. However, the Nightingale just couldn't find the so-called Palace of Kings. How he regretted never entering Windhelm's walls. Now he stood on the docks asking for directions like a complete fool.
"The palace?," The guard pondered. "If you keep going straight past Candlehearth Hall, it should be right in front of you." "Thank you," the Nightingale replied, embarrassed by the fact he had passed his destination several times. Just as he was heading back to the palace, he saw a guard enter a door with a whip clutched in his hand. He decided to come back later. Ulfric was far more important.
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The Nightingale walked out of the Palace of Kings, Balgruff's axe still on his back. Ulfric must be really confident now, he thought bitterly, but it's only a matter of time before the Imperial army gets the jump on him.
He decided to go back to the docks just so he could learn what that guard with the whip was doing.
When he stepped out on the docks, he was greeted by a ringing bell and a man shouting, "Peasants for sale! Peasants for sale!" Curious, he followed the sounds and saw a Nord dressed in fine clothes standing on a box and hitting a cow bell with a hammer repeatedly. Behind him was a wooden sign that read 'Today's Workers'. "What's all this?", The Nightingale asked the Nord. "What are you, a tourist?", The Nord replied wittingly. "Well my friend, this is the Slave Drive!" "S-slave?" Yessir," said the Nord. "Slaves. Fresh and able-bodied. Just buy one and go! Want to see what we have in stock?" The Nightingale paused. Why would he need a slave? He despised slavery with every fiber of his being. Yet he couldn't help but look at the board in curiosity. Needless to say, the prices were outrageous. The Nightingale looked over the prices:
PRICES
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Neetrenaza 10,000 Sep.
Stands-In-Shallows. 11,000 Sep.
Scouts-Many-Marshes. 100 Sep.
Shahvee. 10,000 Sep.
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The Nightingale stopped at the third option. 100 septims? That was low considering the fact that the Nords sure loved their money. "Why is that one so low?" He asked, pointing at the third slave's name. The Nord shook in his head. "There's a rule that states that if a slave is too weak, his price goes down by 100 coins a day. Once the price hits zero and he's still not bought... Well..." The Nord paused to drag his finger across his neck, simulating a slit throat. The Nightingale was appalled. They would just kill a living person for being weak. "Of course," the Nord continued, "Everyone knows that rule, but we still hold on to the slave just in case. Now, while no one would ever-"
"I'll take Scouts-Many-Marshes."
Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And I'm sorry if you don't like the idea of slavery, but ever since I visited the Windhelm docks on my first playthrough, it's been stuck in my head!
The next chapter should be to your liking.
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An Unexpected Rescue
RomanceAU where Argonians are used as slaves in Skyrim. Scouts-Many-Marshes sat in his cold cell, waiting for the guards to drag him to his death. What he didn't expect was to be taken to a random spot in the road and given to his new owner. What was the r...
