For the night we rested, feeling thoroughly relaxed and completely exhausted from the day's activities. The farmers and villagers were overwhelmingly grateful at what we had accomplished, doubly so after the pathetic actions of the other members of the Guild. When morning broke there was no trace of the other five members of our party who, after being ejected from the tavern had seen the sense in slinking away in the cover of darkness. We stayed for the night free of charge, many of the patrons attempting to buy us rounds of locally brewed beer and ale. It wasn't long before an impromptu celebration had formed to the sounds of laughing, singing and dancing with almost the entire village present.
Well after midnight Viconia and I finally managed to disentangle ourselves from the press and manage to get a few hours of rest. The party however continued unabated and it wasn't long before the enormous minotaur skull had found itself jammed onto a pole in the village square, the last of its blood drying in the sun and flesh already beginning to swarm with blue-black flies. Children laughed and played in the shadow of the skull and men and women alike were already greatly inebriated, all thoughts of death and loss for the moment at least being replaced by hope and merriment.
Roars of appreciation met us when we left our rooms, mugs and flagons and containers of every type being thrust in a toast to our honour. Viconia and I both seemed to be in the same mindset of not enjoying centres of attention but our growing fame as the heroes of Kvatch would mean that this situation would soon be a regular occurrence. In this tiny hamlet in country Skingrad we had further solidified our legend that would begin to grow in a life of its own.
Joocator found us within minutes of leaving the tavern into a village filled with festivities. The village elder and a handful of other officials appearing as though conjured to bestow various honours they saw fit, and thankfully our contract payment that the guild expected. Viconia slapped away hands bearing garlands of pressed flowers and took most of the attention with an ill grace. By the time the tiny chest filled with coins was pressed into my arms I had several wreaths of flowers wrapped around my neck and arms, had shaken hands with nearly everyone in the village and been on the receiving end of kisses from some of the women and hugs around the legs from some of the smaller children. One tiny youngster had to be pried away from my armoured greaves by his mother as he simply refused to let me go.
Alcohol flowed freely, couples danced in the dozens and there would be no work being done this day and probably the next. After such fear and death that had occurred they all threw themselves into the celebrations with gusto and I knew that without a doubt that there would be several new children being born during the following summer. It took the better part of an hour to convince them that we could not stay and that we would have to return to Skingrad but we finally managed to leave, bidding our farewells and chuckling at how the village was already considering renaming itself "Titans End"
Returning to Skingrad was a relatively easy and quiet affair. We simply entered the city, made our way through the bustling streets to the chapterhouse and handed the payment of the contract over to the hulking guild porter for counting and distribution. Most of the payment would be going to the two of us, and one fifth would be used by the guild itself. We were not as overly concerned with money as what we had been forty-eight hours previously and as soon as we found a free moment the two of us found a room to ourselves and sorted through the piles of gemstones and other various treasures that we had acquired from the ruins. There was more wealth in our bags that what I had any hope of seeing for an entire lifetime's service to the legion, but unless we found a suitable and honest jeweller it was almost no better than having pouches full of coloured glass. For the moment however we both marvelled at what we had accomplished, and Viconia's eyes shone with an unusual intensity as we sorted through the pile of gems in front of us.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The amount was deceptively small in appearance and had filled only three of our pouches, but was easily worth a king's ransom. Dividing them between the two of us there was little for us to do and even less of what we could think of to spend it on. Neither of us could come to any decision on what to do with our wealth, so for the moment we simply placed them in our pouches, kept a couple out for selling to the first honest jeweller we came across and otherwise continued on as what we had previously.
For the next couple of days, it was quiet. Maglir had vanished, seemingly deserting the guild and its responsibilities while the others had decided to make themselves scarce. They showed their faces in the guild from time to time but never lingering and sleeping elsewhere in the city. The word of our success was spreading and it would not be long before more contracts would find their way to the local Chapterhouse. For the meantime we found ourselves once again with all too much free time to occupy ourselves with.
The day after returning I made my way through the city, leaving Viconia to haggle and deal with a pair of jewellers with a handful of our recovered gems. We had discovered very quickly that she was the best to get deals with any vendors or merchants due the combination of her exquisite good looks and hard personality. Being able to haggle extremely effectively through mild seduction or by sheer intimidating presence ensured that we soon had a healthy collection of coins jingling in our purses. Making my way through the market district and the mass of shouting vendors and their prospective clientele I followed my nose in the direction of my goal.
Every major city and nearly every town and village worthy of the title had their usual collection of fellmongers and tanners. The demand for leather was one of the major trade goods for the empire; being used from everything from clothing, bedding and book bindings but the disgusting process for curing such materials ensured that they almost exclusively located in the poorest of districts. The stench of a horrid mixture of urine, faeces and rotting flesh was enough to turn aside all but the most determined of citizens from living or working anywhere close to where the tanners went about their work.
I made my way there as a customer, carrying the considerable hunk of pelt of the Minotaur lord over a shoulder as I went to the small collection of stalls and shops in amidst the tanning pits and tanks. Skingrad may have been one of the richest cities in the Empire but there was no hiding the fact that the area around the tanning pits and fellmongers workshops was almost exclusively the poorest of boarding houses and shacks. Judging by the smell that felt potent enough to strip paint I didn't blame anyone for not wanting to live anywhere downwind.
Introducing myself to one of the apron clad tannery workers I soon managed to find myself discussing prices with the tannery owner as he ran his fingers over the roughly hewn pelt. A craftsman and artesian like any blacksmith or engraver, the foul-smelling fellmonger had extreme pride in his job and having an amount of such material placed before him was almost intoxicating. He ran his fingers over the jagged and frayed ends where I had cut it from the minotaur's back and I knew that in his mind he was thinking of what crafts he could make with such a rare commodity. Minotaur leather was one of the most sought after of leather goods in Cyrodiil, if not the empire. For this man to find himself looking over such an amount of unsurpassed quality was something most tanners would only dream of.
Our discussion of price was almost half hearted and he was more interested in knowing what I wanted fashioned from the hide so he could calculate how much he would have left over for further profit. Any of the scraps would fetch high prices for him after selling pieces to high-born nobles or the exceedingly rich. The price that I had bargained with him and his leatherworking colleague for custom made boots, gloves, cloaks and hoods for Viconia and myself was ridiculously cheap as they both had their minds set on having the left overs more than my custom.
We were deep in conversation when my own instincts flared and I saw the leatherworker suddenly start as though he had been hit with one of Viconia's bolts of lightning. His eyes widened, staring over behind me at the mild press of workers and citizens going about their daily business and I twisted without thinking. A sound like tearing silk ripped through the air over the background noise of thousands of people and I found myself facing a strong, harsh faced Nord woman with a dagger of gleaming obsidian clenched in a tight fist.
