48: Disguise

After a short search of the city and directions from a passing resident, I found my way to the bar of some lodge or another. It wasn’t particularly busy, but neither was it particularly dirty. It was clean in the strangest sense. The wood of the floors and walls was beginning to give in to the unending dampness that came from living in what was essentially the least moist piece of land in between an ocean, a river and a swamp. Everything had some degree of salt water slime coating it, yet someone had taken a great deal of care in keeping it clean. There wasn’t a single thing out of place, nor a stain on any of the carpets. Considering the fact that this was the most celebrated tavern in the city (according to the resident who had given me directions), the state of the place was impressive.

The Argonian woman behind the bar was straightening and organizing bottles on the wall, and did not notice me. I had no problem with this, as I had no intention of being a customer. I was just looking for a Blade who could lead me in the right direction. I scanned the faces of the people in the tavern, hoping someone would recognize me and call me over. I had no idea who I was looking for, besides a vague sense of what a Blade looks like. Having no luck with the scanning of the patrons, I took a seat at a table in the corner of the room, where I continued my examination of the people in the bar.

One Redguard man caught my attention simply because he was alone. Other than that, he had none of the qualities I was looking for. His shoulders were slumped and scrawny, and the expression he wore on his face as he sipped from a tankard was that of a dimwit. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, but there was some glimmer of intelligence in them. It was his eyes that were out of place with the rest of the image. They were unfocused, but simply because they weren’t interested in what they were looking at. I could tell after a few moments that his eyes were looking elsewhere, but his attention was focused on me. It all made sense. He was a Blade, an expert at blending in and being uninteresting. His shoulders were slumped because years of observation and practice had taught him exactly how to hold them to look like an average person, rather than a soldier. The crumbs and drippings that marred the front of his shirt were intentionally left alone to enhance the illusion. I had found my Blade.

I surreptitiously approached him and placed a few coins on the table in front of him. His eyes snapped up at me and narrowed. “I need some help with some parcels. Want to pay for your dinner?” He downed the last of his ale and shrugged, before standing up and following me out into the street.

After we were outside the tavern, I stopped leading and started following him. He made his way to a shabby little hut in the center of the town. It completed the illusion of him as a peasant. He opened the door of the shack and I stepped inside. As soon as he had closed the door he began interrogating me.

“You are Syras?” he said, stepping away from the door.

“Yes.”

“You made good time. Tell me, how many bars were there on the door of your cell in the Imperial Prison?” My eyebrows raised, but I knew that cell well.

“Thirteen vertical, three horizontal.” I replied almost instantly. He nodded, my test complete.

“Where’s the vampire?”

“Out in the swamp somewhere. He was… hungry.”

“I understand. We’ll have to wait for him before continuing. Make yourself at home. It’s not much, but I understand you won’t be here long.”

“It will be fine I’m sure. What is your name?”

“Kael Bluehair. I’ve been in the Blades for six years now.”

“It shows. You are very well trained. But that is not a Hammerfell name.”

“Indeed, I was raised in Skyrim by Nords. My foster parents found me in a caravan that had been attacked by raiders. I have the blood of a Redguard, but the ferocity of a Nord.”

“You must fit into the Blades very well then.” He smiled and rummaged around in a barrel.

“Hungry?” he said, unwrapping a loaf of bread he had extricated from the barrel.

“Hungry enough.” I said, taking the proffered loaf and breaking it in half.

We sat, munching and talking, waiting for Darkasha to arrive. When he finally did, there was little mincing of words between Kael and him. There was no animosity between them, just a sense of utter professionalism.

“So what is the plan?” I asked, having still been kept in the dark about my assignment.

“We’ll tell you when we have arrived.” Kael said simply. I groaned at the thought of more travel, but Kael pulled three small objects from within his shirt. I didn’t recognize them, but they glowed with magic. “These will teleport us to Vvardenfell. It will probably be quite a jolt considering the distance, but it must be done to make it there in time.” My jaw dropped at the mention of teleportation. It was very difficult magic, and was really only possible on Vvardenfell, but I guess there was some loophole I didn’t know about. I cautiously took hold of the stone he was holding and recognized it as a grand soul gem. Before I could examine it thoroughly, Kael said something and I felt myself pulled across the world…