Solitude

After a long and uncomfortable trip in the back of the carriage I finally arrive at the front gates of Solitude.

Its early evening as I enter the city only to be greeted by a public execution. 

The execution is well attended by the cities inhabitants although there are mixed feelings about the justice being served out. A few questions directed at the spectators reveal that the unfortunate, soon to be headless, Roggvir helped the Nord’s New High King escape the city after defeating the old High King in single combat. The execution proceeds swiftly ending with the bloody head of Roggvir rolling onto the flagstones.

Pretty hectic first impression of Solitude, nothing says stay out of trouble like a public execution.

Tired from my journey I look for the nearest Inn, luckily I don’t need to walk far as it’s just across the square from the execution. The sign outside the entrance reads The Winking Skeever, not much of a welcoming name in my opinion.

I open the door and to my surprise the place looks pretty good, not a skeever in sight.

The Inn keep Corpulus Vinius greets me cheerfully; I respond in kind and ask for the days specials, hoping that skeever is not on the menu. I order some roast and lots of ale to wash away the taste of the road. Corpulus entertains me with the tale of how the Inn got its name, as a boy he had a skeever as a pet and it used to wink at him, so that’s how he came up with the name. I am relieved because I was imagining giant skeevers running around at night eyeing up the lodgers for dinner and winking to their friends when they found a suitable candidate for dinner.

I pay for a room and enjoy my dinner on the landing overlooking the main dining hall. The bard is singing in the most beautiful voice and by the look of her she is pretty good herself. 

Dinner finished and my spirits much improved I head down the stairs to take a closer look at the bard and meet some of the patrons.

Corpulus introduces me to his son Sorex Vinius who declares his intention of taking over the business on his father’s retirement. 

Jawanan is an apprentice Fletcher from Hammerfell and remarks that ‘a well-made arrow strikes forth like the fury of a god’ and I believe him.

The bard announces she is taking her break and walks upstairs to her room, I follow her.

On the landing I come across Jorn, also a bard, who is attending the Bards College here in Solitude. He mumbles something about a Festival of the Burning of King Olaf but my mind is elsewhere. 

I excuse myself from Jorn wanting to finally meet the beautiful woman with the voice of honey.

Smoothing down my hair and putting on my best smile I greet her warmly, her name is Lisette and she is a Breton. I compliment her on her voice; in return she gives me a smile that could melt the coldest snow-covered mountain-top in Skyrim. My wits gone I blabber on about her singing and she knowingly replies ‘being surrounded by good music, good drink and good friends is all I’ve ever asked for’.

I think I’m in love. Uttering some nonsensical goodbye I retreat to my room before I embarrass myself any further.

It’s been a long day and I fall asleep thinking of love and the possibility of me already having a wife waiting for me somewhere that I can’t remember.