Short Story

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After six weeks in total, I had fully recovered, although despite that, I was having a hard time making plans for my departure. Vega had proven to be a very likeable woman after all. Self sufficient, efficient, independent, resourceful. I’d found that basically everything in the camp was made by her, by hand. Except for some things.

I had discovered these things one afternoon when I had been going through her belongings looking for something else, although I can’t quite remember what it was, mind you. It had sort of gotten me off guard, but in my search I’d come across a quite beautiful ornamental chest, big enough for, say, jewelry.

Vega wasn’t a woman for jewelry, I knew that, so I had my curiosity piqued when I dusted the box off and carefully opened the latch keeping it shut. Within it she’d kept letters, apparently. There was a variety of different ones; from relatives mostly, two treasure maps and one from a certain Jarl, prompting her to cease her hunting activity in the Rift. I couldn’t help but to smile at that one, having heard Vega’s irritated rants about the seemingly incompetent city guards and their commanders many times before.

I was just about to replace the letters and close the box when a metal object fell out from in between one of the neatly folded parchments. It landed with a tacky sound on one of my boots, and I looked down.

What I felt wasn’t even close to resentment, as it might have been only weeks earlier, when I picked the amulet of Talos up I felt an odd mix of worry, nervosity and surprise. Vega had never struck me as a believer and I found it strange that she’d have such an item in her possession, and perhaps, if she was, it was even stranger that I hadn’t noticed.

The fact that is was an amulet of Talos didn’t bother me, personally, at all. Normally I might’ve scoffed and judged, the job had been easy enough and straightforward, but this was something else.

We were beyond the awkward silences by now, and as soon as she returned that evening, I questioned her about the amulet. She looked surprised at first, then her expression morphed into that careless smile of hers. It never failed to comfort me, and I think she’d figured that out by now.

“It’s not mine.”, she said and grabbed it gently from my hands. I found myself surprised I’d let go at all. She held it up in the light of the fire, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment, it gleamed in the light and swung calmly back and forth in a hypnotizing motion.

“What do you mean not yours?”, it came out a lot more inquisitive than I had intended. For the first time in my life, I was feeling worried for another person, and it scared me. “Do you have any idea what would happen if...”, I paused and looked away. For some reason the words I’d prepared didn’t want to be spoken very easily. I swallowed, “... If a Justiciar found this?”.

Her eyes tried to capture mine, and despite my words, her smile didn’t falter, “As a matter of fact, I do.”.

Clever you.

“I don’t count.”

The fact that she seemed to refuse to take me seriously infuriated me. I watched as she shuffled over to her pile of belongings and picked the small wooden box up. She opened it and peered into the pile of paper, using her right hand to single out a piece of parchment, triumphantly she held it up. It was the type of expensive paper only used by courts and Jarls with ornamental borders printed by block along the edges. She handed it to me and I unfolded it.

"Miss Vega,

I would like to extend a thank you on the behalf of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the rightful ruler of Skyrim. It is with great pleasure that I within this letter enclose an amulet as appropriate payment for your service to Windhelm and her people and as a symbol of our gratitude.

I wish you all the luck in the world on your further endeavors and may you wear our gift proudly henceforth.

Jorleif of Windhelm"

Even though I knew Vega had meant to be reassuring, it felt as if the letter just added fuel to the fire. I looked up from behind the paper, brows furrowed into an uncertain arc, “You think this is supposed to make things better?”.

“Well, all I ever did was kill bandits.”, she shrugged, not sympathizing with my sentiment. “It wasn’t really meant as a service to anyone, they just... happened to notice.”

There was a silence. She looked at me questioning, but I had no doubt that what I was about to say would not be taken lightly.

“Burn it.”, I commanded dryly.

There was an inaudible snap in the atmosphere as she shot me a stern look, but I didn’t break. There was something resembling fury stirring in her eyes, and even though I didn’t want to anger her, I felt I wasn’t ready to let this slip.

“I might as well give up my freedom.”, she hissed from in between her gritted teeth, her voice growing unsteady, “This, to me,” she held up the amulet in front of my nose, so close I could smell the iron mixed with her scent, “This is freedom. Nobody decides what I do, no Stormcloaks, no Thalmor, no Imperial. Not even you.”. The fire flickered violently momentarily in the background, its light enhancing the threateningly grim expression on her face.

I narrowed my eyes and glared down at her. Fine.