A Father's Last Gift

Aran tucked the bag of septims into his belt, right next to his sword where he could keep a finger on it to ensure it was still there. He pulled the cloak over it then, to prevent anyone being able to see it without moving his cloak out of the way. A cutpurse would have to go through quite a lot of work to steal from him without him noticing, and a trick of cutpurses were you always took the easiest targets, or so he had been taught.

Following Chloe out into the street, he kept a close eye on everyone anyway. When they reached the shops, he nodded and followed her into the leather worker, seeing no need to offer any advice. Aside from pricing, what she wanted was completely up to Chloe, and he had no reason to offer any advice.

As they entered the store, Aran stood near the door, leaning against the side of the doorframe while Chloe talked with the Khajiiti tradesman. Once Chloe had decided on taking measurements, he moved from his place to one of the racks of belts and sword sheathes the Khajiit had already made. He picked up one of the belts, inspecting the work of the clasps and leather, to ensure that the products the tradesman produced were not shoddy.

"Would you like anything Aran?"

He placed the sword belt back on the rack, convinced that a piece of similar worksmanship would suit Chloe quite well. Respectfully he inclined his head, moving back to his place at the door where we could keep an eye on everything in the room. "I thank you lady Chloe, but I have everything I need."

He had been trained to fight and defend himself and others in every type of environment, but he specifically did not like small rooms. There were too many variables in every building, and this one only had two doors. Without going to the back which he was certain the tradesman would not appreciate, he could only know the layout of the single room. It was unlikely anyone was trying to kill the lady Chloe, she did not seem the type of master to draw assassins, but it was always better safe then sorry. He pulled out his knife, and fiddled with the blade while he waited, prepared to stab any assailants that entered the building, or throw the blade straight for the Khajiiti's skull at the first sign of danger from the tradesman. He looked the part of a trained wolf, ready to pounce and begin ripping out throats, and the intimidation factor had always served him well. No one would cower at a man that smiled all the time.

Waiting as patiently as possible, if not a pit restless, he thought back to the body on the road. There was something off about the corpse, but he could not quite place what. It was obvious the man had been fighting when he died, a sword through the side, probably a shortsword by the look of things. He'd had dents across his breastplates, and had only been dead an hour at the most. It was clear the man had been stashed in the thorn bushes to hide him, the only thing giving away his location the glint of steel from breastplate. But there were so many oddities about the death, he knew that he had missed something.

It had not occurred to him at the time, but there was a noticeable lack of blood on the road. Unless the bandits cleaned up the blood spill on the road, which was highly unlikely, there should have been some sign of the fight. For that matter, while there had been blood on the mans clothing, there wasn't really any on the surrounding bushes. A cart then? Someone could have loaded him up at the spot he was killed, hauled him a ways, then dumped him in the bushes, but that seemed a lot of work for simple bandits. Then there was the issue of his belongings. His sword and any items he carried were gone, but his armor was still in place as well as his clothing and cape. A bandit was unlikely to leave any of that behind unless something threatened his looting, and if that was the case the body would have been left where it had fallen. It was a strange predicament, but if the guards came asking questions when they returned to the Inn, he'd give the information to them, and they could reason it out. His only real concern was his master Chloe, and keeping her safe. Everything else was just a parting fancy

Aran watched with disinterest as the Khajiit took Chloe's size. He realized that he had gotten expectant, after seeing the body, and now that they weren't doing anything that really held any danger, he has getting a bit bored. When the Khajiit asked him if he was sure he didn't want anything, Aran gave the man a cold stare, and without skipping a bit the Khajiit continued on talking. It gave Aran some small satisfaction at least.

"I agree to his terms, Aran. We will return come morning. If it is not prepared then, we will take our deposit and find custom elsewhere. Perhaps that Argonian leatherworker on the south side of town."

He pulled the bag of septims out of it's place of safety, and fished out twenty septims for the tradesman while he made assurance the belt would be ready by morning. He tucked the money back in his belt, then followed after Chloe after giving the tradesman a parting grimace. He chuckled to himself, amused at how easily people were intimidating.

"I wonder what they have cooking back at the inn... Oh, first. That store over there, 'The Travel Bag'. I think that shop is exactly what we require, unless the name is misleading. Wouldn't put it passed them."

A look at the sky told Aran it was indeed lunch time, though he himself was not yet hungry. Of course, he rarely got hunger pains anymore since the poison he had taken as a child had dulled those senses. He stayed close on her heels as they wound their way through the crowd, idly fingering the gold hidden behind his cloak to ensure that it was still there. Inside the store, the two Dunmer and the Altmer gave them a strange look, and he returned their look with a cold stare. As Chloe moved on, he followed, the racks in the store preventing his vision of the entire room.

"What do you think I should buy for travel through Hammerfell?"

Aran considered careful what all she would need that he did not already have. Food and Water were a necessity, but those would not be any issue. A veil certainly would be however, with the sun bearing down and the wind whipping sand in your eyes. Before he could answer, she held up a grey-white veil, and he held back a smile.

"Your opinion on this?"

"It matches your eyes, Lady Chloe," they were in earshot of the store owner, she could not berate him for that, surely. "It will do well to cover you from the sun and sand. If it please you, I would suggest a light dress to match as well? The deserts are hot, and a linen dress would do well to help keep you cool. I fear you may overheat if you wear those robes."

If they had the veil in that material, it was likely the store had more of the same somewhere else, and he could see a rack of dresses hanging in one corner. Of course, it was possible that Chloe already had a dress that would serve in her belongings, but he had not yet seen the rest of her attire.

"I already have a light linen dress packed in one of the saddle bags. I attempted to pack at least one set of clothes for each climate. Although let me tell you, I'm not prepared for visiting the jungles of Anequina, Argonia, Thras or Pyandonea, I lack clothing that can withstand so much water. We'll have to prepare extra if we decide to visit those places."

Aran was glad to hear that his new mistress had come prepared. He should have expected as much, she seemed very intelligent. That being said, often he had learned that people took such things for granted, expecting that adventuring was exactly like the stories. In the stories, no one ever had problems, and everything always went according to plan. From his travels, he had learned the reality was very different.

He followed her around the shop passively, running his fingers around the coin purse while she browsed. Thoughtfully, he wondered how much money she actually had. her saddlebag had been surprisingly heavy, and it was possible she had more coin purses hiding beneath that lock, but he couldn't be sure. The amount in hand, combined with his skills, was certainly enough to get them to Norvos, but how long after that would she run out. He was certain her family had quite a large amount of money, but how much had the father given her to start. They'd paid at least ten thousand septims for Aran himself, though how much more he could not guess. She did not seem to spend money too extravagantly yet, passing up dresses and pretty trinkets in the store, so it was likely Chloe was good at managing her money. If not. . . well, he doubted her father would just hand over money every time she came home asking for it. Florian had already seemed reluctant to allow his daughter to go, and Aran doubted the merchant would make it any easier for her to stay away then he needed to.

If they did run out of money, Aran wagered they could live off his skills alone, albeit far less extravagantly. If she wanted the best all the time though, they might need to take mercenary work, or some other form of employment. The idea was exciting to Aran, and despite the risk to Chloe's well being, he wondered what she would think about that.

"I think that's it, Aran."

Silently, he followed her over to the counter, fishing out septims for the sullen Altmer. From the look of her, she'd not made the sell with the two Dunmer who had been in the store earlier. For a moment he considered trying to barter with her, but Chloe was already heading outside, and he thought better of it. Leaving the septims on the table and tucking the purse back away, he strode quickly to the door before she got to far ahead of him. Outside, she was already waiting for him, with a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Aran. Shall we head back to the Sleeping Dragon now? I think it's time for a nice meal, some wine and a song or two. Our first together and one of many, I'm sure!"

"As you wish, Chloe." He nearly raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what made her seem so jovial all of the sudden. She had actually seemed a bit distraught when they entered the city, but she looked nothing of the sort now. On the inside he was smiling, but he kept his outward features that of stone.

It was a relatively quick trip back to the inn, winding through the different streets, and with the pace she was setting, he almost had to jog. As they neared the inn, he could smell the food that had been cooked for lunch wafting through the air, and his stomach told him that it was time to eat. Inside the inn there were already more people then there had been before. He hoped that to many people did not arrive before nightfall, when he had to perform. It would not do well for the inn to become to pack and hinder Chloe from anything she wanted to do.

"Would you please take this upstairs to my room, Aran? I will be just down here. Oh but hurry back, I'll order food."

"With pleasure, mistress Chloe." He took the veil from her and bowed slightly, then turned and headed upstairs. He fished the key out of the bag when he reached the room, opening the lock and stepping inside. He was pleased to find the room exactly how he'd left it, and folded the veil on the table where he'd left her saddlebags. Locking the room behind him, he went to his own, checking to make sure his own belongings were where he'd left them. His bow and quiver in the corner, helm on the table, and saddlebags on the bed were all he needed to see, and he locked that door behind him as well. Exiting the room, he saw someone at the end of the hallway, looking rather suspicious and leaning against the wall. The man gave him a curt nod, and Aran gave him a cold stare and inclined his head in response. He did not like the look of the man, but there was nothing to be done for it, and he decided to go back into his room and remove his cloak for the moment. He would need to don his other later, and looked forward to when it came. He had worn the silk cloak for meeting the Labelle family and his new master, but he hoped that Chloe would let him wear his favorite when they had no special meetings to attend.

---

"You must be Aran's little lady.

"No, I am Aran's Mistress. He is my servant, not my lover. Now, I want two of what ever is finest on the menu served right up. Make
sure it is hot, as well. I don't want any cold slop in my belly."

The innkeep looked astonished for a moment, then bowed his head in recognition as realization dawned on him. His tone and attitude completely changed, to something more fit for talking to those better then oneself, with considerably more money. He motioned to one of the serving girls and held up two fingers and a thumb, and she quickly scurried away into the back.

"Of course. . Mistress Chloe was it, I think he said? Forgive me, I thought he meant. . . well never mind that. He's a servant you say? I hadn't thought. . . well, he doesn't seem the servant type, if you don't mind me saying m'lady. Too. . . cold. I thought he was just a traveling bodyguard or something. . . came in here with a. . Malinus? Two days or so ago. And a couple of others like him. . . One of them called him the broken king while he was performing, thought it was funny. . . Bunch of lasses in Wayrest going to be sad to hear he's a servant, thinking he and that magic cloak of his'd come back and take them away, make them a queen. . . well that's all foolish nonsense anyway. How'd you happen to come across a servant like him anyway? Man looks more like a lion then trained dog. If you don't mind me asking of course, m'lady."

The innkeep looked over his shoulder wondering what was taking the serving maid so long. He tapped his foot anxiously, looking the picture of impatience. Whoever this Mistress Chloe was, she was clearly someone important, to be able to claim a man like that was a servant - and her own at that.

Upstairs, Aran finished removing his cloak, folding it on the bed by his saddlebags. He considered donning his other cloak, but decided against it. It was quite some time before he needed to earn his and Chloe's stay in the Inn, and he'd prefer not to go advertising himself more then needed. He considered taking off his sword as well, but it was always possible that he might end up needing it.

Exiting his room, he locked his door back, looking down the hall to where the shady man had been residing. Whoever he was, the man was gone, and Aran shrugged it off as nothing. Since finding the body, he had to admit he was a little bit on edge. The excitement of possible adventure wasn't helping his nerves either, and he composed himself as he headed downstairs.

At the base of the stairs, he saw Chloe sitting down with two steaming piles of food, and his stomach rumbled slightly. The innkeeper seemed to be bothering her from the look on his face, and he reached them in a few strides, glaring at the greedy innkeeper for all he was worth. The man looked at him nervously, and Aran ordered some mulled wine, pleased that the innkeeper scurried off himself rather then stick around. Aran took his seat across from Chloe, waiting for his master to begin eating before he did so himself.

"If the inn keep bothers you miss Chloe, I will be more then happy to speak to him about it. You need only give the word and he shall not bother you again. If he has asked you for some form of payment, do not let him fool you. I can easily acquire us rooms of similar caliber at another inn, if you would like." At least he assumed he could.

Aran began eating his own food as Chloe began, positioning himself in the seat so that he could keep an eye over the entire tavern. He wasn't actually worried about anyone sneaking up on him, but it was just a habit that had been hammered into in during his training. Any relaxed moment could be the one that killed your master. As a serving girl brought him the drink he'd asked for, he used it to wash down some of his food. The meals were better then last time, and he was sorely tempted to comment on such. The innkeeper had promised to provide Aran and his master the best he had to offer the last time Aran was here, and he suspected that the innkeeper held out, not trusting that he would be worth the cost. Now, the innkeeper could have no doubts, and Aran expected he would not get as good of a nights sleep as he had the night before.

He glanced at Chloe as she sighed, realizing that his mistress had drunk straight from the bottle instead of asking him to pour the mead into the goblet first. He held back a smirk as he continued to eat his own food, finding it funny that at heart, nobles were not so different after all. Everyone had their own ideas, but he knew that despite appearances, they were all just people at heart. Of course, sometimes appearances were everything, and part of his job was to make her seem the lady she was. In some situations, it wouldn't do to have people questioning her authority, or by that his own.

"I've enjoyed today, Aran. Even with finding a body at the side of the road, Arkay guide his soul. I'm looking forward to the rest of our journey. And I think you've done good, with knowing when to call me Lady Chloe, instead of just Chloe. I like it. Feel important, even though I'm not."

He finished chewing his food, looking at her with his hard face an cold eyes, though inside he was confused. He started off slowly, trying to work out what exactly he wanted to say. ". . . I am glad to have pleased you Chloe, and I look forward to our journey as well," at least the parts with adventure and more dead bodies to puzzle out. He didn't enjoy killing, but it was a natural part of life in Tamriel, and with the war he was bound to wind up in a situation that required it eventually. "I. . . do not understand your meaning however. It is said among Daelmah d'Waenrae, that we are given only to the most important individuals in Nirn. It is told that. . . " he lowered his voice, not wanting to anger anyone who might be listening, though he expected the din would drown out any words he said to anyone but her. ". . . Tiber Septim himself was bonded with a Khalessev Wanre, and that the servant continues his servitude as the avatar of Talos." It was his favorite story, and he never questioned that it might be untrue. "You are very important, Lady Chloe, and perhaps to me most of all."

He managed to keep his voice calm and emotionless, though the words spoke volumes. Of course to Aran, it was all just a simple statement of fact. He had not even known Chloe's name while he was training, but once he had come to terms with the path his life would take, he had trained tirelessly each day for the role he now served, the role he would serve for the rest of his life. For Aran, there really was no other choice, no other purpose. He never considered that he might actually do something else, or even have a free will of his own. His fate was to serve, and he would not be surprised if an Elder Scroll would tell him what he already knew at heart. He took another bite of the bar, continuing eating as though nothing had transpired, and he was content.

"Maybe there is an Elder Scroll out there with my name on it, but right now I'm about as important to the world of Nirn as a cat. That's how I look at it, at least. It's nice that you feel as if I am the most important thing in Mundus, but Attrebus Mede II is probably more important than me."

Aran shrugged passively, continuing to eat his food. Attrebus might be important, but how many lives would actually come to a halt if the man died. Very few probably. Of course, people would weep, and mourn and then they would continue on with their lives. Of course, the man might have his own Servant, if not several, and they would be severely effected, if not killed instantly. But that was no more then could be said of Chloe. Her parents would weep, Aran would die, and that was no more then the world would be truly effected by the Emperor's death himself. Of course, Chloe's death wouldn't kill him yet, not until the bonding, and that was not a conversation he was looking forward to having. In fact, there were a few conversations he was not looking forward to having. . .

"The inkeep mentioned Malintus. He said that you stayed here with him, when you arrived in Wayrest. That others like you laughed and called you the Broken King. Did they mean anything by that title? I can understand if you wish not to talk about it just yet, I needn't want to pry into my servants life too early."

. . . and that was one of them. He couldn't lie to her, that was forbidden, but he really didn't want to talk about it. Her dismissal was not enough for him to keep his mouth shut. She'd asked him about it, and his opinion didn't really matter. Wishing he did not have to talk about it, or ever remember it, did not mean it was not a part of his past. That being said, he didn't ask her about his past, just why he'd been called the Broken King.

He finished chewing his food before speaking, buying himself a little bit of time to think. "When I stayed here with Malintus, the commoners began calling me the broken knight. One of Malintus' Servants, Hadvir, joked that it would be better to call me the broken king. I do not know what my name was, but I was first called Aran Di'thang by some at Norvos. It is Aldmeri for 'Slave King,' and the name stuck. It is my only name now. If the name displeases you, I will take whatever name you deem fit for me, though many know me as Aran Di'thang now, and it has grown to suit me."

The last part he wished he could have back. That was too close to giving his own opinion, or asking something of her, both of which servants were forbidden to do of their masters if they had not been directly asked. The words were already out though and there was nothing he could do about it now. If his answered had given enough for her to reason that the name had actual meaning. . . then he would have no choice to give her the answers he wanted, as much as he didn't want to. He took another bite of food, and scanned over the Inn, hoping she wouldn't pry any further down that path.

Aran kept himself from grinning, wondering if she would actually call him Sparkles. Amused, he made a note to remind her of it later if he ever upset her. The worst that would happen is she would start calling him sparkles for a time, but likely the joke would lighten her mood. Not that he ever planned to upset her.

He finished his food, agreeing silently on it's quality. He could not make out all of the individual spices used in the boar, but he was fairly certain he had at least two of them in his pack, and that it had been slow cooked in mead, or perhaps or ale for several hours. It was not something he would be able to prepare while they were on the move, but perhaps if they stopped somewhere for a while he would be able to make something similar. It reminded him that he needed to cook and salt some of the meat tonight, to ensure it lasted longer, but he would have to do that after he earned their stay. Perhaps he could convince the cook to do it for him while he played, that would certainly save him some time.

"Aran, do you have any recommendations for what to do now? I'm a little bored. I'm also out of mead, which makes the whole boredom experience much harder to cope with."

Aran rubbed his chin thoughtfully, though he kept his hollow. There were several things they could do, though most of them would be outside the city. "If you desire, you mentioned you had not practiced magic in combat? I am certain there would be an area where you could practice your spells. If also you have not practiced with your blade much, I could begin teaching you to wield it better. Of course, if you would prefer, I can fetch you some more mead." He didn't really know of anything else to do in the city, though we was sure there were events somewhere or another. "If you wish it, I can ask if there are any events in the city, such as an arena, circus, or gambling troupe, though I have heard of nothing of the sort lately, and it is unlikely they would travel from their current location with the war."