“Battle-Born?
One of the largest clans in Whiterun?”
“The very same, and don’t forget the wealthiest; they pay very well.” Vilkas made a coin motion with his hand.
“That’s odd.
If they are such a wealthy clan, don’t they have their own soldiers?”
Vilkas shrugged and popped his neck.
“No, clans aren’t allowed standing armies; only a few housecarls and the Battle-Born are already stretched thin.
They own over half the farmland around Whiterun.”
Septimus’ eyes widened.
“That much?
I knew they were rich, but that’s something else.
So they use their housecarls to protect the farmland and then hire mercenaries for other jobs?”
“Exactly, they lack the manpower to oversee everything, so they come to us; the Battle-Born are one of our biggest clients.”
“What about the Grey-Manes then?
I heard they are rivals.” Septimus asked curiously.
“Hmm, well, they are rivals when it comes to fame and the like, while the Battle-Born are farmers, the Grey-Manes are artisans and crafters, our very own Eorlund Grey-Mane being the best example.”
Vilkas stored the training staff and started making his way back inside.
“So is it a friendly rivalry then?”
They entered Jorrvaskr and took a seat by the fire.
“Not at all!” Vilkas laughed.
“They sabotage each other all the time.
Last I heard, the Grey-Manes sent some thugs after some Battle-Born lads while the Battle-Borns had their ledgers faked; it got the Grey-Manes in serious trouble with the jarl!”
Septimus started snacking on some horker jerky.
“Damn, they must really hate each other then!”
Vilkas joined him.
“Not really, this generation is tame by comparison.
You would have to ask the Master, but back when he was young, they outright assassinated each other; the jarl had to interfere and calm them down!”
A basket of bread was placed before them; the old caretaker gave them a nod, and they nodded back.
“So, what can you tell me about the mission, anything important I should know?”
Vilkas swallowed the jerky; he ate quite voraciously.
“This mission’s target is Jon Battle-Born, hes seen about 20 winters, about the same as you, I’d say.
Jon’s a bit of a black sheep; he refused to join the family business and believes himself a warrior-poet.”
Septimus scoffed.
“What does that even mean, warrior-poet?”
Vilkas threw his hands up.
“How would I know?
It’s what he tells everyone he meets!”
“Fair enough.
Anything else?
What about the duration?”
“A week, just about.
The contract says to keep an eye on him and keep him out of trouble; usually we’d send two people and alternate to keep watch all day, but you’re on your own, so figure it out, make sure you’re always with him.”
Septimus looked confused.
“What do you mean, like, sleep next to him?”
Vilkas nodded.
“That’s right, and eat, and drink and everything; you’re going to become his shadow for one week.”
Seeing Septimus’s expression, he continued.
“It will be good for you; take it as training.
Rarely do we get such easy guard missions; Jon rarely leaves past the Whiterun walls. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
At worst, you’ll have to deal with a tavern brawl.”
“Alright, I already said I’d do it.” Septimus took a deep breath.
“So, why do they even want a bodyguard anyway?”
“I don’t know, lads a bit of a troublemaker, he probably got into an argument with someone and his family is worried he’d get dragged into the alleys.”
Septimus seemed to think for a moment.
“I understand, so I am more of a symbol than an actual bodyguard?”
“Yes, and no, a companion being near him will make others think twice, but if anything happens, you have to protect him.”
Vilkas stood up, preparing to leave.
“Let’s call it for tonight.
The mission starts tomorrow.
Jons usually skulks around the merchant district; make sure to stick to him like a fly to mammoth dung!”
====================
The next morning, Septimus woke up early, started his day with his usual training, washed himself up, and donned his second set of well-worn reinforced leather clothes.
Carrying his spear and a small bag with food and water, he headed out to search for his target, Jon Battle-Born.
‘Isn’t Jon that one NPC that leans against the general store?
I think he wears iron armour?”
Guided by his memories of the game, he walked to the general store hoping to find Jon, but he didn’t spot anyone who could be him in the crowd.
‘He said he’s a wandering poet or something, ill ask around the tavern.’
Entering the building, he spotted Saadia, the redguard woman with a bounty on her head.
Septimus approached her.
“Good morning, we meet again!”
She turned to look at him, confusion filling her face.
“Good morning?
Have we met before?” She eyed his weapon.
“We exchanged words a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, there are so many people passing through every day that I struggle to remember them all.”
Septimus smiled at her.
“No worries, my name is Septimus, part of the companions!”
She smiled at him, unimpressed.
“Hello, Septimus.
My name is Saadia.
How can I help you?”
“Do you happen to know where I can find a certain Jon Battle-Born?
I’ve been told he hangs around here.”
She makes a show of looking around as if to check if anybody’s listening.
“Well, I know him, but why are you searching for him, Septimus?”
“For nothing bad, I assure you; it’s companion business!”
Saadia looked convinced, or indifferent.
“Well, if you say so, he came by last night, had a few drinks and left.
He forgot his lute here, so he’ll surely be back to get it!”
Septimus nodded in thanks.
“I see.
Could you point me to the lute?
I will wait around until he comes to fetch it.”
Saadia agreed.
She went into a storage room and came back with a bright red guitar, or lute.
“Here you go!
Do you want a drink while you wait?”
“I don’t drink on the job and all that; I will sit in that corner.
Thank you again for your help, Saadia.”
She gave him a light smile.
“You are welcome, just, please, don’t cause any trouble, alright?”
“Can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.”
====================
His conversation with Saadia finished, Septimus sat in a corner facing the entrance, the red lute on the table next to him.
‘I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but this bodyguard stuff is cutting into my training time!’
He started fiddling with his spear.
‘These days I face off against the other trainees a bit, and I can hold my own for a while, although winning is hard.’
‘But they are actual warriors, most of them older than I am, with years of experience, very different from the usual Skyrim thug.’
‘I should have some confidence in myself, but not be overly confident either; it’s a hard balance to maintain.
I need more training, dang it!’
While Septimus was pondering ways to better stab people, the front door opened, and a man walked in.
He was Nord, with a blond hairstyle in a low ponytail and a shaggy beard.
The man was one head and a couple sizes smaller than Septimus.
His iron chestplate made clinking noises as he approached the table.
Their eyes had been locked on each other since he entered the building.
The man spoke first.
“Hey, that’s mine.” He pointed at the lute.
“Can I have it back?”
Septimus slowly nodded.
“Go ahead.” The man complied, lifting the instrument in his hands.
“Are you Jon?” The man’s eyes flicked back to him.
“I am.
Who’s asking?”
Septimus stood up.
“My name is Septimus.
I am with the companions; from today I will act as your bodyguard.”
Jon looked confused.
“Bodyguard, I haven’t heard anything about it!?”
“Someone placed a request with the companions; I have been sent to complete it.
From today, I am obliged to protect and follow you around.”
Jon looked Septimus up and down, taking note of his weapon and clothes.
“Who placed the request?”
“I don’t know; all I have been told is to protect you.”
Jon face-palmed.
“I never asked for this.
Can I dismiss you?”
Septimus stopped to think for a moment.
“No, only the person who placed the request can take it down; you’ll have to talk to them.”
“So what you are telling me is that you will follow me around, regardless of my wishes?”
Septimus nodded with a smile.
“Yeah, pretty much.
Let’s get along, Jon!’
Jon, resigned, placed the lute back on the table and sat down, prompting Septimus to do the same.
“It was probably my father that placed the request, and he never listens to me, so there’s no point fighting it.
Oh well, nice to meet you, Septimus.
I am Jon of the Battle-Born clan of Whiterun.”