Adrienne Jastal
The Reach - Outside Markarth
The Reach - Outside Markarth
Once the discussion was over and a resolution in mind, Adrienne had retired with the rest, making her way back to her room with unhurried steps. It would not do to become frantic when there was already a course of action before her. The decision was set, all that remained was to follow through. It was like swinging a sword or casting a spell; once committed to an action, second-guessing would only be ruinous.
Her bedchamber was a much simpler affair than it had been at home, but she found something comforting in the plain stone walls and the small hearth, set into a corner. She lit it with a flame from one hand, gathering a small satchel and the few supplies she could afford to carry on a journey where time was to be of the essence. A few alchemy ingredients, her cloak, a spare shirt, and a single book. The more camp-oriented supplies were near the stables, and would be loaded onto the individual horses come morning. She bathed for what would probably be the last time in a while, and tried not to think too hard about what was happening. As compartmentalizing had always been a strength of hers, this wasn’t unbearably difficult at present, and sleep found her with relative ease.
She was up before dawn the next morning, dressed in sturdy traveling clothes and preparing a light breakfast for everyone before they had to saddle their horses and go. The journey itself, she passed largely in silence, occasionally breaking the pattern when she had something to add to whatever sparse conversation picked up, but admittedly the majority of her time was spent either looking listlessly at the landscape or else reading the tome she had brought with her, delicate fingers curled around the spine and supporting the thing at chest-level. She was accustomed enough to riding that it was possible to do both at once, and her horse complacently followed the others, requiring little to no guidance from her.
She kept to the middle of the formation, which looked something like an inverted ‘v,’ with Drayk at the apex. Occasionally, she would glance up and make sure everyone else was still there, but other than that she remained unobtrusive. She, unlike many of them, was not a wanted criminal in Skyrim; all her crimes had been committed within the borders of High Rock, and fortunately, serial poisoning of nobility was a deed with a low recidivism rate. She was not tempted to it out of pleasure, after all; at least not at first, and so there was very little luring her back to it. At present, Adrienne knew with disturbing clarity that she was more likely to injure herself than someone else at this point.
The point, of course, was that on her own, she would have had little problem entering Markarth; as it was, she suspected she might need to talk their way in with the gate guards, but it was with quiet assurance that she believed this to be possible. Good things, too, could occasionally come of possessing a tongue gilt in silver, and she would not hesitate to employ her skills this way for her family.
At this point, the group had stopped and picked up something of a passenger, a young boy now riding up front with Drayk. Adrienne smiled sadly, softly closing the book and storing it away as her friend told his story. She could pick out the places where he was likely glossing over things or outright fabricating a falsehood, but the act played upon her sympathies rather than some dislike for lies. It was obvious why he would choose to change a tale like so; she was more surprised that he would consent to tell one at all. She probably would have chosen a folk tale herself- someone else’s lie was much safer in the telling, she knew well.
She wondered, as she watched the boy run off, all smiles and earnest energy, what had happened to this Liam individual. Perhaps it was something she was better off not knowing.
The stone city of Markarth lay just ahead, buildings etched into the sheer rock face with craftsmanship only the Dwemer could manage, and it was here at last that Adrienne chose to speak. “If you think it would help, I could ride ahead and talk to the gate guards,” she offered to the group at large. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how best to handle this kind of thing; normally, the Mentor’s presence was enough to gain them access to just about anywhere. She wasn’t sure if she should ride ahead or stay with the group. A few should probably hide their faces or make themselves less recognizable if possible, but this she left to their individual judgments.