“You never explained the tabard,” he said, his hands digging into his pockets, the jangle of keys following shortly after.
The Dunmer’s words pulled me from elsewhere and back into the dimly lit cavern buried beneath Bangkorai. My eyes focused on his torch, squinting slightly at the unnecessary brightness. There was a terseness to his lips that told me he was growing weary of my question dodging. Motion at his left side pulled my eyes from his rough face to his left hand, tracing the wrapping of his sword handle.
“You told me you were a mercenary looking for work,” he said, his brow furrowing at a pace that hinted at his intent to do more than just lovingly fondle the handle of his weapon. “Since when do mercenaries looking for work wear a tabard for a guild?”
My eyes dropped to the tabard wrapped around my armor. For a moment, I wondered why I hadn’t removed it. It would have been easier than trying to do one last solo contract while wearing the Company’s heraldry.
“It’s… a long story,” I said. “Are you going to show me this hideout of yours or not?”
The man’s hands were firm against my shoulder as he shoved me. “You want to see our spot, you come clean. I’m not dragging you to a private place like this until you tell me what you’re really after.”
I bit back a growl, settling for a glare instead. The harsh whine of metal sliding from a sheathe grated against my ears as the elf drew his blade.
You can tell a lot about a man from the way he draws his sword. Some are hasty, fumbling with their grip and inexperience. But his hands were calm, steady, practiced. He’d done this a thousand times before, and he’d do it a thousand more times in the future.
Maybe a few weeks ago I’d have just leapt at him for his insolence, found his cavern on my own and been done with it. But I was just so damn tired.
“Sorry, you’re right,” I said, raising my hands. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have worn the damn thing. It’s just... well,” I paused, feeling an immense weight lifted off me as words that I hadn’t realized I wanted to say poured out. “It’s not just a company, it’s mine. And we’re small, and I’m worried about them, you know? I’m responsible for them, I gotta keep them safe, Ive got to make sure they’ve got coin to feed themselves. But I’m not... that’s not who I am, it never has been. I don’t know how to deal with that.”
I paused, staring off at the wall, away from the bright light of the torch. “I guess I just wasn’t ready to take off the tabard and put away all those worries.”
Look.
Yes, I do my best thinking at sword point. Don’t judge. It’s a problem, and I know it, but when else was I going to say this kind of shit?
His hands clasped my shoulder. I was surprised to see a look of compassion in his face, the smile broad and genuine. “I know what you’re going through.”
I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “You do?”
He nodded, sheathing his sword and turning to face the hidden door in the wall. “I remember when I first got my crew up and running. Each one was like a family member to me.” His keys clattered against the door, a soft click as he slid it open. “They still are. I’d do anything to protect them.”
His words followed me as we walked through the narrow stone tunnel. Partially because they sickened me: how could he call his group a “family” with the disgusting shit they did?
But also because that was the one thing I couldn’t reconcile with myself.
I’d be pretending to be much less of a shit-head than I really am if I told you I remembered each of the interviews I’d given. But honestly, at this point, they’d started to blur together. Recruiting for a mercenary company took a lot from me. I spent my days writing flyers, my evenings interviewing fresh-faced recruits, my nights traveling to nearby towns, and my mornings looking for potential contracts. I was lucky to sleep, let alone do any of the things the wolf was constantly whining for.
But as each one signed up, swore an oath to their allies and to this Company I’d helped create, I couldn’t stop thinking it.
Why were they following me? And worse, why was I letting them?
“Mind the gap,” the Dunmer said, in time for me to see the bottomless ravine that I’d nearly stepped in.
When the only life I was risking was mine, things felt sane. I knew that if I died, I deserved it. I should have died a long time ago for all the shit I’d done.
But asking others to put their lives on the line? To do it next to me, who might turn on them if I lose control? I knew Valtire and the others were right, that I couldn’t do this alone, but why did that mean the rest had to be put in danger?
“How do you do it?” I asked, before the rest of my body had a chance to tell my lips to stop.
“Hmm?” The Dunmer wormed his way through a crack in the tunnel as he answered.
“The things you do are dangerous,” I said, my sword making a scraping noise as I followed him, “how do you justify putting them through it?” My voice dropped off a cliff into a muttered whisper. “How do you trust yourself to keep them safe?”
For a moment, Tazien’s interview forced its way out of my memories. I winced as I remembered her asking what we did about werewolves, remembered the wolf running through the eighteen different ways I could kill her for threatening me. I remembered how hard it was to say no to her.
He paused, just before a small wooden door, throwing a small, reassuring smile over his shoulder. On the face of a man like him, a reassuring smile was deeply unsettling. “I worried about the same things when we started. I knew the things I was asking them to do were dangerous. I didn’t feel qualified to lead them.” The door creaked open between his words. “You can’t protect them. You just have to trust that they’ll do their best to protect you.”
He stepped through the door and I followed him, passing into a much larger part of the cavern. Little treasures and piles of gold decorated the floor, four sleeping areas spread out amongst the wreckage of numerous successful heists. Bloody rags lay piled in the corner. I wondered if that’s where they’d done the things that earned a high bounty on their heads. Three sets of eyes peered at me from equally rough faces.
The man I’d traveled with waved his arms around the room, beaming. “Here it is, our little safe house. I know when we first spoke about you joining up with us, you just asked about yourself. But,” he clasped a hand to my shoulder and smiled, the kind of smile a father might give his wayward child, “you don’t have to be worried about bringing your friends along. We’ll keep them safe.”
The other three in the room, a small male Bosmer, a terrified female Argonian, and a curious Breton who could be either, looked at me, slowly slinking their way towards their Dunmer leader.
They all matched the description to a letter.
“Thank you, Ervmir.” I said. He flinched as I said his name and the realization sunk in that he’d never said it. “You helped me a lot more than I thought you would.” My claws slid silently from my fingertips. “I’m truly sorry for misleading you.”
His blood spattered the ground as I swept my claws through his throat. He clutched in vain at the fountain of blood pouring from his throat, collapsing the ground with a wet gurgle.
“The family of the young merchant couple you all murdered and raped sends their regards.” My words were tinged with a snarl as I shifted, bones snapping and popping into place.
With a roar, I leapt at the Breton.
She was going to eat well tonight.
