Dawn had finally arrived; the early risers of Hacktown were already out and about, completing their early morning chores.
Women carrying water and men gathering together in small groups, preparing to go out to work, could be seen all over the main street.
All in all, it was a usual, tranquil morning, ideal for beginning a workday, but even better for ending it, at least that’s what Tappard, the night guard on duty at the gate, thought.
The night shift was close to finishing; he was giddy to return and have some well-deserved rest in his warm, cozy bed.
After all, he worked extra hard today, only dozing off a couple of times.
While lost in thought, Tappard noticed a shape in the distance.
Focusing his eyes, he realized it was a man carrying several mismatched leather bags.
Seeing it was finally time to do his job, Tappard straightened his back, placed his left hand on the sword he had sheathed at the waist, and lifted the spear in a proper guarding position.
Slowly, the stranger approached the closed gate; it was not long until Tappard could finally see what he looked like; if he had to describe it in one word, it would be ‘haggard’.
The man had messy blonde hair; he walked with a heavy slouch, as if overburdened by the bags he had on him.
Looking closely, Tappard saw the bow the man was carrying; the man had placed one arm between the limbs and the string, carrying the bow on his shoulder.
He also saw the other things he was carrying: an empty waterskin in one hand, a quiver full of arrows hanging from a strap close to his waist, a half-empty bag hanging in his other hand, and a large, bursting bag on his back.
With the obviously tired man getting close enough to hear him, Tappard tilted his spear and called out.
“Hail, stranger, you are approaching the gates of Hackdirt.
Stop and declare your purpose; fail to do so and face the consequences!” Tappard was so very proud of managing to sound as imposing as he felt.
The stranger looked him up and down; seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he tried to straighten his back but failed, giving up with a tired sigh.
“Hail to you, guard.
I’m just passing by with no particular business here; I’m headed for Chorrol.” Tappard gave a nod, rested his spear against the gate, and pulled out a small booklet and a pen.
“Name?” He started.
“Septimus.” The stranger replied.
“Profession?”
“Hunter.” The stranger wiggled his arm with the bow on it.
“Your purpose for visiting”
“None, it’s a stop on the way to Chorrol”
“Good enough, and finally, are you willing to let me do a quick search of your bags to assure you carry no contraband?
We want no skooma dealers wandering around here.”
Hearing the word skooma, the stranger scoffed, amused.
“Have at it”.
He dropped his bags on the ground.
“Take a few steps back!” Septimus complied.
After a quick search and seeing everything in order, Tappard relaxed, pointed at the open bags, then to the man and said.
“Everything looks fine.
Welcome to Hackdirt, Septimus, don’t cause any trouble.”
Septimus nodded, leaned down and grabbed his bags, then lifted them and placed them on his back with a groan.
“You don’t happen to have an inn here, do you?”
“An inn?
Sure, it’s the big building next to the lampost, has a sign on the door, you can’t miss it, tell them Tabbard sent you”
“Alright, thank you, have a good day”.
“Hmm, carry on then”
Tabbard opened the gate, letting Septimus through before closing it again.
Today really was a good morning; he had once again protected the gate, showed his authority to the passing travelers and defended the townfolk.
Never had a miscreant gotten past him, much less a bandit; Tabbard was sure of it.
====================
‘I’m never walking again in my life.
Who said it’s fine to walk all night just because I’m young?
Get them out here, I’ll fight them!’
After his little heist the previous day, Septimus returned to the road and kept walking, and walking, and walking, in pure darkness, all night long.
‘I tripped on so many things I thought someone was placing traps on purpose.’ Luckily for him, his trek was mostly uneventful; the most action he got was when he heard some rustling in the bushes that spooked him enough to drop everything and draw his bow; it ended up being nothing tho.
Walking inside the building he had identified as the inn, Septimus nodded to the woman cleaning the tables; he guessed it also served as a tavern of sorts.
Septimus noticed a man at the counter; he didn’t look right, not in a bad way, but not in a good way either.
He was most certainly not an Imperial.
‘Hmm, must be a redguard or something, it’s kind of hard to tell when the image i have of them is based on game graphics’
Catching the redguard’s eye, Septimus leaned on the counter.
“Good Morning, how much for a room here?”
The man just stared silently at Septimus without saying anything for a few seconds.
“…30 septims a night”.
Septimus nodded; he had no idea if it was a lot.
He didn’t even count how many septims he had; it wasn’t worth stopping to count them in the dark.
“If I pay now, can I stay until tomorrow morning?”
The redguard nodded.
“…Sure, we don’t serve food before noon.
You can wash up at the well in the back if you want to, we don’t do hot water”.
Finding it fair, if unpleasant, Septimus set down his half-full bag, opened it and knelt next to it.
The bag had an assortment of foodstuffs inside, together with the Gariss’ small carving knife and the bag of coins.
Without pulling the bag of coins out, he opened it and counted 30 before tightly closing it back up and paying the redguard.
After a quick count, the innkeeper pocketed the coins.”Hmm, good, your room’s the one to the left of the stairs, up on the first floor.
Here’s your key; give it back when you leave”.
The redguard handed him a comically large iron key.
Septimus grabbed it, made sure he didn’t leave anything behind, and went to his room.
Opening the door, he had a look inside.
‘Hmm, a very normal medieval room.
The bed looks like a frame with some grass covered by a cloth; there’s also a table and a chair, and that’s about it.’
Placing all he owned under the bed, Septimus left the room, making sure to close the door behind him, made his way to the back entrance where the well was and got extremely naked, extremely fast.
After a quick wash-up of both his body and the permanently borrowed clothes, he went back upstairs and placed the soaking clothes on the desk and chair to dry.
Crashing on the bed, Septimus used his forearm to cover his eyes, mumbling quietly to himself.
“Man, I’m beat.
I don’t think I’m made for trekking in the woods *sigh* better get used to it, though I have a feeling I’ll be doing it a lot more from now on.”
‘I’ll rest for now, get a few hours of sleep.
After I wake up, I’ll take inventory of all I have and plan the rest of the journey out.
This was just the beginning; I don’t think I’ve been here for a full day yet.’
With that final thought and feeling the room gradually warming up, Septimus fell into a blissful sleep.
====================
“Ughh, everything hurts, damn, my back…” After a light stretch while still in bed, Septimus felt well enough to get up.
“Clothes are dry, must have been asleep for a long time”.
Getting dressed, he noticed that the clothes became even tighter after the wash.
Doing a series of quick hops to get his pants on, he then ate some of his rations, grabbed his bow, quiver, and bag of gold, then headed outside.
‘The sun is over halfway in the sky.
I went to sleep at dawn, so it’s probably been ten or so hours, right?’
Heading towards a grove just outside the village, Septimus pulled out an arrow and examined it in the daylight; it was a common iron arrow, or so it looked like.
‘Time to try shooting this thing a few times first to get a feel for it.
I’ll also plan while training’
Septimus chose a nice thick tree and began shooting; the first few times went horribly.
He wasn’t used to the weight of the draw, the arrow felt awkward in his hands, and it also dropped very steeply once he let go for some reason.
Still, he adapted, and while lost in thought and repeating the act of shooting a few arrows, picking them up and shooting again, he finally felt like he got the trick of how to wield the bow somewhat well, against a large stationary target, from close range.