Who is to say that one has to follow the path before him because everyone expects him to? Why should everyone else decide who you are and aren't supposed to be in life? Just because a few hermits decide that you are special, everyone in your adopted hometown suddenly assumes that you will drop everything to become the grand hero. Dragonborn? The hero of Skyrim? Who needs that kind of pressure when you are still fairly new to the land? If this is what destiny is, KaNack wanted none of it.

That must have been what made the young Argonian leave Whiterun early that morning. He didn't want to fight dragons or get involved in the Civil War. He had left his home in Black Marsh for one reason only. The College of Winterhold was supposed to be the best place to learn how to properly master one's skills in magic, and that was his destination.

He was still very young, barely in his twenties. He had his whole life ahead of him. Dragons were dangerous and he was still an apprentice in the art of magicka. These people cared nothing about his safety, only that he was Dovahkiin and that meant he was to go out and actively seek the beasts out. Some may call it cowardly to run away from your fate, but KaNack did not have a problem with that. You have to care what people think of you for their opinions to matter.

He had made plans to leave early in the morning to avoid anyone who have tried to stop him. The black and red Argonian collected all the ingredients and potions he could from his abode in Whiterun as he prepared to leave. He had a long journey ahead of him. Winterhold was going to be a few days ride at least, and he had already lost vital time trying to be the hero of the people. Who were these people? Not his people! It was obvious by the way some of the soldiers looked at him that they weren't too keen on their chosen hero being an overgrown lizard.

He had purchased a steed from the stables the previous day, knowing that he was to leave for Winterhold the very next day. It was a beautiful, dark brown mare that was young and strong, perfect for long trips across the expansive land of Skyrim.

KaNack always felt like every creature needed a name, and his horse was no exception. He knew going in that he wanted to mainly focus on conjuration during his studies at Winterhold, so 'Atronach' seemed as appropriate name as any.

KaNack rode his steed, down the road as the morning chill coated his scaly skin in a light layer of sweat. The sooner he left this Dragonborn nonsense behind him the better. Killing dragons and fighting in the war was going to be someone else's problem now.

The mage had just barely begun his journey, when he spotted something ahead in the distance. As he got closer, he saw it was a wagon. A wheel was off to the side, leaving the carriage stranded. As the mage got closer, he saw a strange little man sulking off to the side. He had never seen clothing like his before. It was not armor, and it certainly was not mage robes.

"Oh! Bother and befuddled! Stuck here! Stuck!" the man wailed.

KaNack wanted to keep going towards Winterhold, but he had been taught never to ignore a stranger in need. He dismounted Atronach and approached the miserable Imperial.

"Problem?"

The strange man spun around and jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the Argonian.

"Oh, poor Cicero is stuck! Can't you see?" the Imperial cried as he gestured towards his wagon . "I was transporting my dear sweet mother!"

KaNack looked over at the wagon and his eyes widened. Inside was an enormous wooden box. It showed signs of wear as it must have come a very long way, but it was certainly larger than any box he had ever seen before.

"Your mother?" he asked.

"Well, her corpse!" Cicero snickered. "She's quite dead."

KaNack decided to just ignore the large oversized coffin.

He looked at Cicero from head to toe. He wore old and dusty clothes that were maroon with black stripes. Atop the Imperial's head was a cap that the mage had never seen before in his life with two long flaps dangling in the back. "I hope you don't mind my asking," he started, "your clothes?"

Cicero paused and looked down at his outfit and then back at the Argonian. "Are you a bard, or..?"

"Bard? No! No! No!" exclaimed Cicero. " Cicero is a jester! A fool! The Fool of Hearts!" The Imperial bowed to him as he extended an arm. "Cicero the fool! Pleased to make your acquaintance!"

"A jester?" KaNack smiled at this news. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than magic, it was laughing. It felt like he hadn't laughed since he left Black Marsh, at least not because someone was trying to make him do so on purpose. "I know you're kind of in a bind right now, but do you think you could tell me a quick joke?"

Cicero clapped his hands and jumped from foot to foot in glee. "Yes! Yes! Cicero would be happy to!" The fool coughed and then held out his hands. "So, a Khajiit meets up with a Nord at an inn. The Nord says 'My wife is in bed with laryngitis'. The Khajiit pauses for a moment, and says 'So that Argonian bastard is back in town?'"

It was an Argonian joke, but it was a damned good one. KaNack held his sides as he burst out in laughter. Cicero seemed to beam with pride as he had accomplished what he set out to do. "What a gracious Argonian you are! Not many care for Cicero's jesting."

KaNack coughed a few times and chuckled before he grinned at the fool. "By the Eight, it feels so good to laugh again. Thank you, friend." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, let's see the shape your wagon is in."

"It's wagon shaped last time Cicero checked."

KaNack chuckled again as he took a knee, and inspected the damaged side of the wagon. Only the wheel had been broken, and the rest of the structure was untouched. It could be easily fixed if someone had the right tools.

"Doesn't look too bad. Sorry to say that this really isn't my forte," the Argonian muttered and he stood up and turned back to the jester.

"Gah!" the Imperial cried out making the mage jump slightly. "Wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel! How am I to get my sweet mother to her new home now?"

"Calm down. Is there any possible way I can still help?"

The jester looked up from the ground with grin. He laughed and began to dance in front of the mage in excitement.

"Oh! Oh, yes! The kindly stranger can help!" The Imperial moved over so that he was standing next to the Argonian and then pointed up road towards a farm. "The farm! The Loreius farm. There is a farmer there. He has tools! He can help me."

"Fine then, why don't you ask him?"

"You don't understand!" cried Cicero as he threw his hands down in frustration. "I have asked! He won't help me! He refuses!"

Folding his arms, the mage shook his head as he glared up at the farm. Everyone in Skyrim was looking out for themselves and no one else.

"Well, that's not very neighborly. I have to say, the residents in this land certainly aren't making the best of impressions here."

"Cicero knows! He is not from here as well! Perhaps we can help each other out, hmmm?"

"Well, you are the first one who hasn't outright told me what to do." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled at the fool. "Sure. How can I help?"

"Convince Loreius to fix my wheel. He won't listen to poor Cicero, but I am sure he will hear you out! If you do get him to help, I will reward you with coin! Shiny, gleamy coin!"

"Gold, huh?" The Argonian had spent almost all of his septims just on his horse and traveling supplies alone. Winterhold was a long trip and the extra money would definitely come in handy. "I'll see what I can do."

The Argonian left Cicero and walked up the road towards the farm. It was still very early, fortunately though farmers were known to get up at the crack of dawn. As he walked past a fenced in garden of vegetables, a balding man appeared from the house at the edge of the farm and made his way over. He seemed less than pleased to see someone on his property.

"Oh for the love of Mara! Now what?!"

"Good morning to you too," muttered KaNack. He turned his head and pointed down towards the broken down wagon. "The little man down there could really use some help with his wagon. Think you can fix it for him so he can be on his way?"

"You mean that Cicero fellow? Look, I told him that I don't want anything to do with him! He's already asked me at least five times."

"Perhaps if you fixed it, he'd stop asking."

KaNack was not known for always being the best at conversation. Truth be told he was considered in Black Marsh to have quite the 'smart mouth'.

"Listen," KaNack started trying to make up for his attitude. "If it's about money, he's made it clear that he has some. I am sure he'll pay you."

"Money? We are at war, friend!" snarled Loreius. "Look at the size of that box!" the farmer growled as he pointed a finger down towards the wagon. "Unless his mother was a giant, there is no way that's her coffin! Mother, my eye!"

Loreius snorted and folded his arms glaring at the Argonian. "Anything could be in that box. War contraband! Skooma! We're good people, we don't need that!"

"Good people don't turn away those in need," KaNack hissed at the farmer. "He's a stranger to this land, and he can't go anywhere with his wagon broken like that. Do the right thing and help the fellow out. Wouldn't you want someone to help you if you were stuck in some foreign land?"

"I…!" Loreius started to argue, but then released a sigh of frustration. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, but things aren't as peaceful around here as they used to be. You never know who you can trust these days. He's a nutter, but he asked me to help him and I just turned him away. Look, if you talk to Cicero, let him know I'll be down there soon to fix his wheel."

"Thanks, I'll pass the message along." KaNack released a sigh of relief. At least not all hope was lost in that there was still reason and kindness to be found in Skyrim.

The mage quickly hurried back down the road towards the wagon. He had to get out of Whiterun quickly before people started seeking him out to kill another dragon. The Argonian made his way to the back of the wagon where Cicero had been patiently waiting. The jester was kicking his feet out sadly as he awaited news regarding Loreius' help. He brightened up when KaNack returned.

"Hello again, friend. Were you able to talk some sense into the stubborn Loreius?"

KaNack grinned and nodded his head as he gestured back to the farm. "I talked to the man, and he's agreed to fix your wheel."

The Imperial's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened with delight.

"You did? He has?" The jester leaped from the wagon and grabbed the Argonian's arms as he began to spin around in circles laughing merrily, swinging the mage with him. Most men would have been put off or annoyed, but this was the most fun KaNack had in months.

"Oh, stranger! You have made Cicero so very happy! I thank you! But even more, my mother thanks you!" The jester reached into the wagon and pulled out a large coin purse and handed it to the Argonian.

"Here! For your kindness!"

The Argonian stared at the bag in shock and offered it back to the jester.

"This has to be at least two hundred septims! I can't accept this much for just talking to somebody! Just let me have fifty, and I'll be on my way!"

"No!" Cicero refused as he folded his arms. "We are both strangers here, and humanity is hard to come by! Especially from humans! Why shouldn't a rare act of kindness be rewarded handsomely? Keep it! Keep it! Keep it and enjoy!"

KaNack sighed as he looked at the large bag of coins and then reached forward to shake the jester's hand.

"Thanks, if you ever head down to Winterhold, maybe we can try and keep the humanity alive."

"How funny! The only one with a touch of humanity is an Argonian! Sadly, poor Cicero is going to Dawnstar, but he does hope to meet the kindly stranger again."

KaNack got back onto his horse and gave the beast a gentle nudge to its side. He waved to the Imperial as he passed by on Atronach. "Be on the lookout for dragons! They seem to be popping up all over the place!" he warned the jester.

"Cicero will! Good luck and thank you again!" the jester laughed as he waved farewell to the Argonian. KaNack quickened his horses pace as once again he started journeying north. If Skyrim was a dangerous a land as Loreius made it sound, than the sooner he mastered his skills as a mage the better.