#bextxt

Five minutes after passing through the front gate of Markarth a woman was shivved right in front of you, in the market.

And then there was that business with Molag Bal.  The God of Schemes could keep his treasure; far as you’re concerned.  You took one look at that Altar, turned around and walked right out.  ‘Declined Wholeheartedly’ would be a good way of describing that hellscape.  You would never understand people’s fascination with exsanguination and troughs of human offal.  Some of those stains would NEVER come out.

The Ghost wasn’t kidding about not lingering.

Did everyone sleep on stone beds?  How could that possibly be comfortable?

No one smiled here.

You just wanted OUT.

But you promised Brynjolf, and you’d rather die than disappoint that man.

You ended up making your way all over the city for Brynjolf’s request, and there was nothing impressive about cold, dead stone and the sad people who lived here because they wanted to, and the sadder people who lived here because they couldn’t leave.

By the time you passed through the main gate on your way out, you’d felt the life drain out of your body slowly, like larger grains of sand through a sieve.  You made your way to a small overlook with a tree, across from the stables, out of the way of other travelers and just – sat.

“Little rabbit, why are there assassins after you?” The Ghost asked, sounding genuinely curious.  He’d come up from out of nowhere, as was his way.

“I….beg your pardon?” Looking up (up, up, up) at him made you a little dizzy, so you stared out across the horizon instead.

“Assassins.  After such a little rabbit.”

“I didn’t see any-“

“Little rabbit.  Why do you think that is?”  You think he’s smiling when he says that.

“Because you –“

“Aye.”

“But you said you weren’t going into the city,”

“Wasn’t going to.”

You just raised your eyebrows, waiting.

“Wanted to keep my eyes on things out here, just in case,” The Ghost begins, sitting down next to you.

Just in case of what?  You think.

“Then two disturbed individuals swagger through the front gate with a single minded purpose I’ve only seen once before –“ And you can FEEL The Ghost watching you as he said that, “And I gave up on keeping lookout.”

“They weren’t with me,” you say, emphatically.

“I gathered that, Little Rabbit – seeing as they were so intent on turning you into ash.”

“Who were they?”

You can almost hear The Ghost grinding his teeth.  Almost.

“Little too busy to ask for introductions, Little Rabbit.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “I….appreciate the assist.”

“You never answered my question.”

You turn to him, frustration making you bold. “I think you may have killed any way for me to know!”

“Calm down, Little Rabbit – one of them was carrying this.”

The Ghost hands you a piece of parchment, which simply states “Kill the False Dragonborn before they reach Solstheim.  Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased.”

“Who the fuck is Miraak, Little Rabbit?”

How would you know? “That sounds a little Dragon Priest-y, to me,” you say, and you can feel the weight of The Ghost’s glare upon you.

“A little Dragon Priest-y?”

“Look, it’s not like I’m an expert, alright?”

“You’re the FUCKING DRAGONBORN.” The Ghost hissed at you.

“The position didn’t come with written instructions, Ghost!”

“You’ve been to High Hrothgar!”

You turn to glare at him, lips pursed. “I don’t know if you know this, but 99% of the Greybeards aren’t especially chatty.”

You hear Ghost growl, but you don’t think he’s growling at you. “All Dragonborn experience is anecdotal, and right now we’re working with MY anecdotes.”

He harumphed. “You going to investigate?”

“Be a pretty shitty Dragonborn if I didn’t,” you say, making a sour face.

“I’m not coming with you.” He sounds….like he’s pouting.

“Ok…?  I didn’t ask you to.”

You didn’t ask for any of this, whatsoever, but that’s not the first time you’ve had that particular thought.

“FINE.” The Ghost practically spat at you as he stood up.