“Who puked on the stairs…”
A new day had begun, and Septimus officially started his first day in Whiterun.
‘So, after thinking about it, there are three things I need the most right now: I need to train in the use of weapons; with that comes the need for a stronger body, which needs better nutrition, which needs money.
Money, which I don’t have.
Exiting the tavern, he headed towards the temple of Kynareth.
‘So my priority should be making money, but what would be the best way to do that?
I’m not the legendary dragonborn; if I run into a couple bandits, I’m as good as dead, so wandering won’t work’
A priestess was sweeping the floor; she welcomed him inside.
‘Diving into Nord tombs is another option, but I don’t know how strong the draugr are.
In the game they were a joke, but this isn’t a game anymore.’
Another priestess offered him a bowl of water to wash his hands in.
‘So that’s also out.
Can’t be a merchant because it’s dangerous and I’m poor, can’t be a soldier cause i dont want to be tied down, can’t join the college because I can’t afford to get there, so all that’s left is finding something I can do while training with the companions, if they’d even take me.’
Septimus prayed to the shrine of Kynareth.
He didn’t experience any strange events like the time he prayed to Arkay.
‘Can’t really feel anything; the blessing here was stamina, I believe.
Oh well, let’s go check out the companions’
Walking out of the temple, he passed by the tree and stood before the weathered stairway heading to Jorrvaskr.
‘There weren’t this many stairs in the game, right?
It’s a trek to get up there!’
Once up, Septimus had his first look at the legendary ship of Ysgramor and the companions.
‘It’s smaller than I thought; also, it looks like one bad storm away from falling apart’
Even this early in the morning, people were still out and about the place, mostly young men with a few women here and there.
‘I’ll just have a look around first to see what this place is about and go from there’
The men seemed to be exercising, albeit weirdly.
‘Does lifting a big rock and cheering that you did it really serve as training?’
Carrying on, Septimus heard loud tapping sounds coming from behind the building, wooden swords clashing.
A circle of people had formed in the training grounds behind Jorrvaskr; Septimus pushed his way through to see what was happening.
After a few shoulder bumps, he got into position to see over the shoulders of the people in front of him.
‘Hmm, they’re wearing the ironically named wolf armour typical of the companions.’
The combat taking place was not what he was expecting; the two companions facing each other both wielded identical training swords.
They maintained a set distance from one another, and whenever they swung, the swords almost seemed to disappear from the speed.
‘The swings are not ridiculously fast, like they won’t swing their weapon and cut a candle in twenty pieces, but if they swung at me from a neutral stance, I don’t think I’d even be able to react!’
The two men kept fighting each other, none landing a solid hit, only glancing blows and sword taps.
‘Why are they feinting so much?
Are these guys playing for honor or something?
Fight properly!
Especially the mustached guy; he barely attacks, only blocks and feints, he ain’t winning this!’
The duel soon came to a close, and as Septimus expected, the moustached man lost.
He tried to block a hit in an awkward poise, and the attack went right through the block.
The spectator oohed and aawed.
“That’s enough!” A man wearing companion armour walked into the circle and pulled the fighters apart.
“A good match.
Can any of you blockheads tell me why Londal lost?” The man asked, looking at the trainees. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
No one came forward to answer, so he pointed to a particularly strong-looking Nord.
“You, tell me why he lost!” The companion barked.
“His opponent was stronger, sir; he couldn’t block the hit!” The trainee enthusiastically replied.
The companion closed his eyes and let out a sigh.
“No, I already told you, not everything is about strength.
Anyone else?”
Then he continued to pick trainees one after another, and all their answers were about the same thing from different perspectives: get more muscles.
‘Uhhh, they keep going on about increasing arm strength, wrist training to hold up the guard, a really nord way of thinking, I guess, might makes right and all that.’ Septimus couldn’t resist rolling his eyes after a trainee said the loser should have used a larger sword.
“You, what do you think?
Your face tells me you’ve got an opinion!” The companion pointed right at Septimus.
“Me?!
Uh, I’m not a trainee; I was just passing by.” Septimus got caught off guard and spouted out an excuse on reflex.
“Doesn’t matter, you watched the fight, now tell me why Londal lost!” Septimus started sweating a bit; everyone had their eyes on him.
“Well, in my opinion, it looked like, uh, Londal kept feinting attacks instead of striking, so he tired himself trying to be fancy and lost?”
Hearing his analysis, the winner of the duel guffawed, the instructor raised an eyebrow, and Londal bit his lips so hard they disappeared under his mighty moustache.
“Well, you’re not wrong.” The companion turned to Londal.
“You hear that, Londal!
Even the amateurs can see you’re playing around too much; next time, fight properly.
Disperse!”
Everyone turned around to leave, including Septimus, when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.
“Not you, youngling; come have a chat with me, will you!” Septimus gulped and agreed; he didn’t feel like he had a choice.
The instructor led him to a bench on the side and sat down.
“Join me, lad; let me ask you a few questions!” Septimus sat down next to him.
“My name is Vilkas, and as you can see, I am a member of the Companions.
Who are you?”
‘Oh snap, it’s a wolf boy, the actual Vilkas; he looks nothing like the game, so I couldn’t tell!’
“Hello Vilkas, my name is Septimus.
I recently arrived in Skyrim.” Vilkas nodded and stared him in the eyes.
“I see, and why did you come here, to Whiterun?” The stare made Septimus very uncomfortable; his mouth went dry almost instantly.
‘I shouldn’t lie; instinct tells me not to lie and to stay very, very still!’
“Well, there are two reasons: Whiterun is prosperous, and I came to Skyrim to start a new life.
As for the reason I am here right now, it is because I wanted to see the legendary companions of Ysgrammor!”
Vilkas narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded once.
“Good.
After looking around, what do you think of us?
Don’t feel pressured, I’m just curious.”
*Sniff*
‘Don’t sniff me, man; what the heck!!’
“Well, it’s very impressive; all your trainees are very…
uhh, martially focused?”
“Their meatheads, Septimus, say it as it is.” Septimus winced.
“Yes, well, yeah, meatheads.
I was also impressed by the duel; I have never seen anyone fight like that!” He said very genuinely.
Now, tell me, do you have any thoughts on joining?” The question caught Septimus off guard.
“I would be honored!
But I have never wielded a weapon.
Why invite me to join you?
You said it yourself, the companions are the finest warriors in Skyrim, and I don’t even have the skills to call myself a warrior!”
Vilkas scoffed.
“That’s exactly why: your way of speaking, of looking around, of judging the situation, you said it yourself, youngling; most of the trainees are meatheads.
They are hammers; point them somewhere, and they strike!”
He stood up and pointed to the training grounds.
“But a hammer is still just a weapon, mindless and dangerous if not wielded properly.
The companions need people willing to lead in the future.
I see that potential in you, Septimus.”
Septimus was speechless.
“But, but I just answered a couple of questions, pointed out the obvious!”
Vilkas turned to him.
“That’s exactly it!
It’s obvious, and I agree with you, but these idiots don’t see it that way!
Even my own brother would rather punch someone in the face before trying to resolve the issue peacefully!”
‘Was Vilkas this type of guy in the game?
I swear he didn’t like the Dragonborn at first, right?!’
“Well, they are warriors, so it kinda makes sense.” Vilkas scoffed at that; his hair seemed to thicken slightly.
“No, that is wrong, Septimus; we are part of the companions, warriors of honour, not butchers!” He let out a deep breath, relaxing.
“Anyway, that’s why I have been scouting for promising prospects for some time now.
I like you, Septimus.
Would you like to join the companions as a trainee?
I will make you an official member when you pass the skill requirements.
What do you say?”
Septimus hesitated for a moment, lost in thought.
He took his eyes off Vilkas and looked at the training ground.
“As I said earlier, I would be honored to join, but will me being part of the companions stop me from joining another faction?”
Vilkas tilted his head.
“Depends on the faction; we don’t take kindly to thieves here.
Also, we don’t join other mercenary groups.”
“Then it’s fine.” Septimus stood up and faced Vilkas.
“I would gladly join the companions, as unworthy as I am now; some day I will bear the name with honour!”
Vilkas smiled.
“Well said!
Now come, I will guide you to the barracks where the trainees live.
You said you’re new to Skyrim, so I imagine you don’t have anywhere to live yet.” Septimus nodded.
“Yes, I arrived at Whiterun yesterday; all my gear is back at the inn.”
“Then, after I show you to your room, go back and grab everything you need.
When you’re back, look for me inside the great hall, and I’ll explain all you need to know.
Welcome to the companions!”