Mjoll the Lioness

Riften is covered in smog and smoke from the north when the ships dock in the harbor. News of the Imperial Army's march reached the Rift too late for most of the outlying villages and citizens to successfully make their way to Riften. A small flood of a few hundred people arrived less than two weeks ago, and every day since then it's been dying off steadily until today not a single newcomer has arrived. Every new arrival carries horror stories of Imperial soldiers burning crops, killing cattle, and foraging the forests until they're bare. Which, in turn, has made my daily walk down to the docks more of a competition rather than a lovely stroll.

Women with babes, crippled men, and beggars find my elbows in their sides more oft than not. All able men and women have been shipped out by the lake towards the rivers to attempt to route the Imperials from their western side. Even Aerin was taken in the fight. The only reason I'm still here to push and shove and jab others in their sides is because I was away tracking a bear when the call went out. I'm sure seeing me arrive unharmed has left Maven Black-Briar with a sour taste in her mouth and, given her influence on politics, I've decided it's better to make my way out of the city as soon as possible before someone notices I'm back and decides Mjoll the Lioness would be a useful soldier at the battlefield.

I love Skyrim and it's abhorrent to me how the Imperials are attempting to weaken the Rift, but the Stormcloaks leave a bitter taste on my tongue whenever I think of them. I can't find it in my heart to fight for a side who's leader is openly racist and xenophobic. Unfortunately, when I'm finally to the docks I see my attempt at fleeing Riften is being made significantly harder. Most ships docked are covered in soot and grime, but I can still see the head of a bear on each of their sides. A sigh leaves me as I see the mass of people already surrounded on the docks swarming and fighting one another for positions in front of the ships.

Children and fools willing to go to war and get wounded for a man who doesn't even know their names. I'm about to turn and leave when I see something that perks my interest: merchants. Hocking their wares and screaming at people to either step closer or get away. Nothing out of the ordinary save for a cluster of five or six merchants at the end who aren't even attempting to sell their items. Instead, they sit atop their chained and stapled boxes and are looking at each passerby with mistrust. A wooden sign in front of them makes their offer fairly clear.

"Armed and armored mercenaries wanted. 250 gold upfront, 750 upon arrival. Individual rates, locations, and cargo vary. Serious inquiries only."

I'd rather have found a job that didn't require me selling my sword arm, but my choices are limited at the moment. Besides, saving some merchants from getting killed by bandits or a stray arrow from a battle is a better cause than most mercenary jobs. I'll be doing a good deed, it's within my range of abilities, and the gold is enough to set me up in an inn until the war blows over in the Rift. Or, if the war is still raging, I'm still in another hold with new opportunities. I shove my way past some more people heading for thej ships. I anticipated the merchants being together in a group, so I'm shocked when I see smaller, individual signs in front of all of them.

Each of the merchants looks at me with hopeful eyes as I pass them. One is bringing swords and armor to Windhelm, one fruits and wine to Solitude, another skooma to Elsweyr, and the final is taking salted meat and furs to Markarth. Markarth and Solitude are too far for my taste, Elsweyr is out of the question since I've never even bothered to look at a map of it, and I don't want to contribute any more to this war than I absolutely have to. I'm about to turn and leave to look for work at the inn when I see another merchant further off to the side. All her fellows are elves and men, which makes it less than shocking when I realize they've forced the only Khajiit merchant as far away from them as possible without pushing her into the crowd's patb.

The woman is dressed the same as her fellow merchants: an old, threadbare woolen tunic smeared with stains; ripped cotton leggings the color of shit; leather shoes falling apart at the seams; and, for the final touch, a dried out leather belt with a chipped dagger hanging from it. Her attire is dreadful, but that's the only thing. She has legs that go for miles attached to a body whores and queens alike would kill for. Her long, smooth fur is a light fawn color with slivers of ebony running through it to form stripes. A thick, scarlet mane around her neck and head rolls in untamed curls down her shoulders and back.

I'm still looking st her mane and rack when I feel her eyes upon me. I cringe and she snarls as I meet her eyes. Her left one is a pretty shade of spring green. The right is a puffy, infected monstrosity rolled back in her skull and covered in white puss and gunk with her inner eyelids slid halfway out to form bright red cherries on either side. In short, the woman looks like an actual alley cat that's lost a fight. Her damaged eye almost makes me turn away before pity overcomes me. Most people get their cats because they look so pathetic and sad, and I feel the same way about this merchant. Everyone else has the advantage of having depth perception. This poor woman is going to have to swing her head wide just to see if there's a wagon about to pass her.

The woman doesn't get anymore friendly as I get closer. Her good eyes keeps track of me. Thankfully, her lips go back down. I read over her sign to make sure she's going somewhere I want to be. She's going to Whiterun with fish, furs, eggs, cheese, and a live calf for slaighter. A note at the bottom tells the fish, eggs and cheese aren't salted or pickled. The fish and eggs need ice changes at each stop, the cheese needs to be tightly wrapped and boxed, and the calf will need cleaned and fed.

Luckily, it notes she'll be doing all of that. All she needs me to do is make sure she doesn't get killed while her back is turned . The woman looks more friendly when I stand. She even has her eye partially closed to spare me the sight of the worst of it. Up close, I see her eye isn't the only scar she carries. Her face is littered in scars, burns, and yellowed bruises. Still, she isn't half bad for a woman who looks like she forgot to pay a drunken orc back. Her voice even makes up for it.

"Interested? I have to leave by dusk or dawn if the fish is to keep till Whiterun.". I nod and turn my shoulder slightly to let her see the hammer strapped to my back. The woman hums in approval before reaching for her purse and beginning to count out the upfront gold. 250 pieces are counted out.

"Take the crate out to the stables. Ours is the one with the calf tied to it. I'll fetch us some water and we'll be off." .And, just like that, I'm hired, 250 gold richer, and leaving Riften. The woman's gone without a proper introduction, but I pay it no mind. She seems almost as nervous as I am to leave the city. As I kneel to have the crate up, I realize why she's in such a hurry. The moist crate reeks of fish. Already, it's time is ticking. Fresh fish isn't uncommon in Whiterun, but idiotic nobels are always willing to pay more for "sea fish" they believe is better than whatever fish is pulled from their rivers.

I can guarantee the Khajiit can get ten times the gold for a fish from the sea verses a fish from the river. That is, if she gets it there in time. I heave the wet box up and begin elbowing my way through the crowd once again. Thankfully, the smoke has died down and when I exit the city to the stables the horses aren't spooked or on edge any more like smoke usually makes them. Two gigantic plow horses are pulling a likewise giant wagon loaded down with supplies at the end of the line. A calf nibbling grass that's tied to the wagon tells me it's the right wagon. I load the crate of fish in the back before going up to the horses. The older steeds sniff my hand before nuzzling it and competing for my attention. Both are grey with milky eyes, but their backs are strong and muscles still rippling. Experienced, strong horses will make the trip easier for everyone. The calf iis what I'm most concerned about.

I don't see a stall or cage for the beast inside the wagon .I understand not wanting to clean the wagon out every night or letting the animal too close to our food and water supplies, but the calf might not be able to keep pace with the horses. And, leaving the calf to trail behind the wagon means bandits and wolves will have an easier time picking it off. I have a chance to voice my opinion as soon as the merchant arrives carrying a case full of wine skins under one arm and a case of water skins under the other. She loads the crates into the back and begins tying them down in a complex pattern I couldn't repeat even if I wanted to. She tosses a tarp over them to shade them, then finishes the process by securing the back of the wagon in it's upright position. I take my chance to question her as she's inspecting the calf.

"Will he be alright behind us?". She grunts before finishing her inspection and moving onto examining the horses.

"He made the journey across Morrowind, was locked in a ship for eleven days, and finished the journey with me across Skyrim. He'll survive a little more walking before some Lord up in Whiterun eats him.". I don't respond as I watch the woman check the horses' leads, reins and bits. She walks around the wagon once to check the wheels and joints before finally climbing atop it and patting the wooden bench beside her to show me where to sit.

"You sure you don't want me in back with the calf?". She scoffs and rolls her one remaining eye.

"You're my bodyguard for this trip. Now, get up here and guard my body. The damn calf can get his head cut off for all I care as long as it's before me." I can't help chuckling as I climb up and take a seat beside her. I draw my hammer and check to make sure my armor is secure. It's only as we're bumping along the road I realize I've done it. I've escaped Riften.