Turdas 26th of Last Seed 4E 201

I’m writing this in a creepy old ruin called Labyrinthian, according to Lydia.

I miss my bed already - I’ve not even slept yet.

We woke up early, and after I got some more food for the kitchen, I saw how terribly low we were on gold. I remembered the old woman I saw arguing with those nasty men in the streets a few days ago (by the Eight, has it only been so long?)

She had asked me for help finding her missing son.

I hadn’t gotten much for retrieving a sword, but I know I can count on a reward for finding a person!

I’ll be honest, those men also rubbed me the wrong way, taunting an old lady like that, and about such a horrible thing, too! Who does that?

Wealthy men who think their gold and status will protect them, and high-ranking Imperial soldiers, apparently. The thieves I know would never.

So, I went to Fralia Gray-Mane’s house to get more details. I told Lydia to wait outside, and I’m glad I did. As soon as I walked in, Fralia’s other son, Avulstein, ran at me with a his greataxe. He demanded to know why I was there, but like a smart man, he listened to his mother. She told him to stand down, and that I was there to help.

They explained that they both knew the Battle-Borns had something to do with the disappearance. The families have been feuding for a long, long time, and are predictably taking opposite sides in the war. Avulstein wanted proof that their rivals were in on it before he did anything, though.

I mentioned that was wise of him, and went on my way to the Battle-Born’s house to see what I could find.

Once there, I spoke with everyone, including Olfrid, the one who’d been bothering Fralia in the street. He’s as puffed-up as a horker, but with half the charm. I didn’t get anything usable out of any of them, so I decided to poke around in his quarters once he left the house.

There I found an Imperial letter stating that Thorald had been taken to Northwatch Keep by the Thalmor.

Good Gods, the Thalmor. He’s probably still alive, but I think he’s as good as dead.

I’m not a fan of the Dominion. They’re fanatics who’d want to control everything down to our farts if they could.

Still, I took it to Avulstein, who was determined to go to the keep to get his brother back.

I don’t know if he’s seen what the Thalmor could do to people, but I have. They’ve made… Very public examples of those who would oppose them back in the Capitol. If he went to fight them, even with a group of men, I know they’d all be lost.

The cold in this country must be slowing my brain, because I’m still not sure why I said what I said next. I told him to let me try and TALK to the Thalmor. Maybe I could convince them to let Thorald go. He was doubtful, but I gestured to Fralia, who was in the other room, and pointed out that if he were to get captured or killed, the stress of losing two sons would probably kill her.

He agreed to stay for now, for his mother’s sake, but assured me that if I failed, he’d try to rescue Thorald his way.

He marked the location of Northwatch Keep on my map, and I promised that we’d head out right away.

I got us some provisions before we left, but as we were leaving the gates I actually looked at my map to see exactly where we were going.

Northwatch Keep is well-named. It’s practically at the most northwestern point of Skyrim.

Lydia rolled her eyes at me while I complained about it, and we started on our way.

Maybe she was assigned to me because Irileth took one look at me and thought, “This woman may be a Thane of Whiterun and the Dragonborn, but she’s got the survival skills of a lapdog. Better have Lydia make sure she doesn't get herself killed before she gets to the Greybeards.”

The more I see of Lydia’s main fighting tactic, which mainly consists of throwing herself directly between me and whatever threat comes at me, completely ignoring my Flame spell or poisoned arrows, the more I think that’s probably the case.

At least Lydia’s good company. She’s got a sharp wit, and seems glad that I don’t mind her being sarcastic from time to time. She warms up quick, especially once she gets some ale or mead in her hand. She can sing, too - I’ve heard her singing along with the crowd at the Bannered Mare while I rest. Lydia reminds me of Marcella, one of the older girls I grew up with. We’d trade barbs back and forth and laugh at the same time, like sisters do. She’s got a good family, so I’m sure she’s doing just fine, now.

Not like me, at the moment. The trip to this place was pretty quiet. We faced off against a bear, some mudcrabs, and some wolves. I decided to take the mountain pass rather than follow the road, and I still think I made the right choice. The hike wasn’t that taxing; it’s just cold and snowy up here.

Labyrinthian is a little confusing to navigate, but the worst part is that it’s crawling with frost trolls. I’d never seen them before, but Sweet Mara, they’re ugly! And they’re hard to kill, too. Fire seems to work well on them, though.

It’s getting dark, and right now we’re sheltering in a small stone building that seems to be in the center. It’s not a maze like the name suggests, it’s got a lot of platforms and archways and buildings everywhere. It’s just not orderly at all. I did notice some closed doors on some of the buildings that probably lead to tombs or something, but I’m not going in any right now.

Maybe on the way back.

But there’s some plunder here, at least. In addition to opening the random urns I’ve found, there’s something interesting in this building. There’s a skeleton here, in an old bloodstain with a knife in it’s ribs, along with a strange wooden mask and a note from a mercenary. The note says that the mask made the man whose skeleton this is disappear. Not like a cloak, where you’re invisible, but Not There, like a teleportation! The dead man didn’t pay them fast enough, so the man who wrote the note stabbed him when he reappeared, and he and his companion looted the body.

They left the mask, though, and I don’t blame them. The mask is made of wood, and has a creepy, sad-looking (or maybe angry) face carved on it. I can tell it’s heavily enchanted. The magic coming off it feels powerful, and… Old.

Lydia wasn’t happy when I picked it up, but I reassured her that even though I’m taking it, I’m not putting it on. I want to visit the college of Winterhold at some point. Maybe the mages there can tell me something about it.

Now that we have a campfire going, I’m looking back at the skeleton. It’s propped up, leaning against what I first thought was a low stone wall, but now I see is… Some sort of altar? It’s got a bunch of blank-faced heads wearing hoods carved on it. Like at a hat shop, but cursed-looking. The carving on the altar looks a bit like the mask, and it looks like it would fit perfectly on one of the blank faces.

After what happened with the Golden Dragon Foot, I’m NOT setting the mask on the altar.

It’s early, but it’s only getting colder, so we’re going to set up camp in here and hopefully warm up before setting off again.