Favour/Reflection
cw: fantasy setting racism
The White-Gold Tower loomed ahead, though not as imposing as it once was. It stood broken, forever surrounded by the dead. The Nord felt a kinship with it as he approached. The setting sun illuminated the cracks in the building's stone even as it shone on the scars covering the Nord's face, both of them irreparably marred by the Thalmor. Yet, both of them continued to serve their purpose even with aching bones and shattered glass.
Workers scuttled about on scaffolding, putting up a facade pleasing to behold. They chiseled and hammered until the damage could no longer offend the eye. The Nord twisted his expression into just the right smile for the setting. He must appear pleased to see each and every person he encountered, but not as if his life contained more pleasure than appropriate for one of his station.
Through corridors now well-known he walked, passing Imperials and Thalmor who were all the same to him, because he was the same to them. "I can't believe they let a filthy Nord in here," one would say. "Look at those scars, probably from a drunken brawl," another would speculate. They wandered the halls of his heart just as they wandered those of the tower. Yet, the immaculately polished marble smiled wherever he passed, revealing nothing of the enemy within the walls.
