Chapter Text
I made my way to the small alchemist's shop just outside Riverwood's southern gate, pushing open the well-made wooden door.
Evasion increased to 7
The notification flickered briefly in the corner of my vision, but I paid it no mind as I stepped inside.
It was a cozy little space, warmed by a crackling fire in the hearth. Furs were spread out next to the flames, and a young girl no more than five years old sat cross-legged atop them, wooden horse figurine clutched in her tiny hands. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, a stranger entering her home.
"Papa, we have a customer," she called out in a high, piping voice.
From the back room emerged a wiry young man, maybe late twenties or so. He brushed back a lock of lank brown hair as he approached the counter, offering me a polite smile. "Welcome to Riverwood Alchemy and Potions. I'm Brandulf, the owner, and that's my daughter Myrun." He gave her a fond look. "What can I help you with today?"
"Alex," I replied with a nod. "And I was hoping to buy some potions and ingredients, actually. I'm interested in trying my hand at alchemy."
Brandulf's eyes lit up at that. "Is that so? Well, you've certainly come to the right place!" He leaned forward, hands splaying on the wooden counter. "I keep a wide variety of components in stock - everything from luna moth wings to ectoplasm. For example, a single luna moth wing runs about 26 septims, and deer hearts go for..."
I lifted one hand, cutting off his rambling list of prices. "Thank you, but those ingredients are a bit rich for my blood at the moment," I said with an apologetic smile. "For now, I was just hoping to purchase some pre-made potions, if you have any available?"
"Ah, of course, of course." Brandulf nodded, looking slightly abashed at getting ahead of himself. "Let's see here... At the moment, I have one potion of cure disease, a couple of cure poison brews, and a few basic restore health, stamina and magicka potions of crude and decent qualities." He pulled out a ledger, licking his fingertip to rifle through the pages. "I don't have any better potions on hand, sadly. Still working on improving my skills."
"That's quite alright," I assured him. "Why don't you give me a rundown of what you do have and the associated prices?"
Brandulf launched into listing off his current stock and rates. I only half-listened, my attention drifting as the creak of footsteps sounded on the staircase behind me. I turned slightly, catching sight of a familiar head of ruffled blonde hair descending from above.
"Oh, dear, you're finally awake!" Brandulf's tone shifted, taking on a concerned edge. "How's the hangover treating you?"
Isgerdr - for that was indeed the young woman from last night's...encounter - grimaced as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, green irises dull with fatigue. "Could be worse," she mumbled, running a hand through her tangled locks.
Little Myrun was off like a shot, barreling into her mother's arms. "Mama, mama! Did you have fun at the festival?" The little girl beamed up at Isgerdr, utterly oblivious.
My heart plummeted into my stomach as realization struck. This was Brandulf's wife. And last night, she had...
Oh gods.
I swallowed hard, trying not to let my face betray the sudden spike of panic. Please, please don't let her recognize me. Not in front of her family.
Isgerdr settled onto a nearby chair with Myrun in her lap, cuddling the girl close. Her gaze met mine for the briefest of moments. Those green eyes flickered with recognition - then, just as quickly, went blank once more.
"Shall we continue with your customer, dear?" she asked Brandulf in an airy tone. As if she hadn’t given me a drunken blowjob last night.
I let out a slow, silent exhale of relief. It seemed she had no intention of saying anything, at least for now. I turned back to face Brandulf, adjusting my stance in an effort to appear casual.
"Right, my apologies," the alchemist said, clearing his throat. "As I was saying, the cure disease potion goes for 120 septims. Each cure poison brew is 360, and the crude restore health potions are..."
I listened quietly, and in the end, I decided on purchasing one of each crude potion, plus the cure disease vial. Better to be prepared for any eventuality on the road ahead, after all - including potential diseases. The last thing I needed was some affliction like vampirism binding my soul to Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of Domination and Rape. I found the poison cure to be too expensive right now, so I’d make do with healing.
Isgerdr remained silent throughout the entire transaction, though I could feel the weight of her gaze burning into the back of my neck. As I handed over 252 septims, she suddenly spoke up.
"I think I'll step outside for a bit of fresh air," she announced, rising from her chair. Myrun started to protest, but her mother cut her off with a look. "Be good for your father, Myr. I'll only be a moment."
My mouth went dry as Isgerdr brushed past me. Was this it, then? The confrontation I'd been dreading?
Sure enough, she paused just outside the door, half-turning to fix me with an expectant look. Those green eyes were unreadable, but the slight quirk of one sculpted brow spoke volumes.
I swallowed hard, then gave Brandulf a curt nod. "Thank you for your time."
He blinked at me, seeming taken aback by my abrupt departure. "Oh - ah, yes, of course! Any time, friend!"
Putting my newly-acquired potions in my backpack, and secretly into my inventory, I followed Isgerdr out into the morning air. She didn't wait for me to catch up, instead setting off at a brisk pace towards the trees lining the southern road. I hurried after her, boots crunching over the dirt path.
Isgerdr came to a halt in a small clearing amidst the birch trees, spinning on her heel to face me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I shifted my weight uncomfortably, unable to meet her piercing stare.
She closed the distance between us with a few graceful steps. My breath caught in my throat as she ran her fingers lightly down my arm, sending a shiver through me.
"Please," she murmured, green eyes searching mine imploringly. "You mustn't tell Brandulf what happened at the inn. He doesn't know, and I want to keep my family intact."
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died on my tongue. Isgerdr had dropped her gaze, hands moving boldly to fondle me through my trousers. I sucked in a sharp breath at her brazen touch.
"Keep quiet," she breathed, leaning in so her lips brushed the shell of my ear. "And you can do whatever you want to me."
She sank to her knees before me, fingers already working at my laces. I sucked in a sharp breath as my cock sprang free, slapping against her face. Isgerdr's pink tongue darted out, trailing a teasing line along the underside from base to tip. Her eyes never left mine as she showered open-mouthed kisses along my big cock.
A low groan escaped me at the sight of this beautiful, married woman worshipping my dick. Her plump lips stretched wide as she took the bulbous head into her mouth, cheeks hollowing with each hungry suck. Strands of blonde hair fell across her face, framing her in an oddly angelic light despite the lewd act.
Desire coiled hot in my gut, urging me to simply grab a fistful of her hair and fuck her mouth. But I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting for control. As incredible as it felt, I couldn't let this go any further.
Reaching down, I gripped Isgerdr firmly by the shoulders and pushed her away, tucking myself back into my trousers with my free hand. She looked up at me with those big, guileless eyes, lips reddened and slightly parted. For a moment, I was tempted to simply yank her back onto her knees and put that mouth to better use.
Instead, I spoke in a low, stern tone. "I'm not going to tell your husband. But I won't be an accomplice to you cheating, either."
Isgerdr's expression shifted, lips curving into a sultry pout as she reached for me again. "Don't be like that," she purred, trailing a fingernail down the bulge still tenting my pants.
I caught her wrist in an iron grip, using my other hand to pin her arms behind her back. I easily spun her around and pressed her front against the rough bark of a nearby tree trunk. She let out a soft "oof" of surprise, but didn't struggle as I leaned in close.
"I don't want to have sex with you," I growled in her ear, giving her arms a hard squeeze. "Do you understand?"
For a tense moment, Isgerdr was silent, body rigid against mine. Then, finally, she gave a sullen nod, the fight seeming to go out of her all at once.
Satisfied, I released her and took a step back, watching coolly as she smoothed down her wrinkled clothing. Isgerdr refused to meet my gaze, worrying her full lower lip between her teeth. With a soft huff, she turned and started walking back towards the alchemy shop, leaving me alone in the little forest clearing.
I let out a long, slow exhalation, feeling some of the tension bleed out of my shoulders. I had really wanted to accept, but knowingly doing that kind of thing with a married wife felt… immoral. Her husband didn’t deserve this, so I wasn’t going to take any part in that.
But what was next for me? Hod would probably let the other lumberjacks know I had decided to move on. I didn't feel any need to go around saying personal goodbyes though. Those guys were good folk, but we hadn't exactly become best friends during my short time at the mill.
For the briefest of moments, I considered stopping by Embershard Mine to see if I could clear it out, but quickly dismissed that idea. I may have leveled up some skills, but I was in no way powerful enough yet. Taking on an entire bandit gang would just be asking for a brutal death at this point.
No, it made more sense to move on to the bigger city of Whiterun for now. The journey there would give me a chance to get some experience under my belt. And Whiterun itself would have way more opportunities for jobs, training, you name it. It was the wise move for furthering my development.
Nodding to myself, I summoned a glass bottle of cool water from my inventory and drained it with a few deep gulps. I smacked my lips, and then got moving. I made my way back through the streets of Riverwood at a calm pace, taking in the sights one last time - the kids chasing each other, the clang of Alvor's hammer on steel, Fjorgeir the Scribe lounging against the town walls.
I caught the guard’s eye and waved him over. "I'm leaving to go to Whiterun," I told him simply. "Figured I'd let you know before disappearing."
Fjorgeir nodded. "Fair enough. Riverwood's a quiet place. Not much more for a young guy like yourself to do here." He pushed off the wall, and looked me in the eyes. "Just watch yourself on the roads. Plenty of beasties and bandits roaming these days."
I thanked him for the advice and struck out down the road leading north out of Riverwood. The path wound along the banks of the White River, peaceful and serene. For about fifteen minutes, at least.
Then the skies opened up in a flood of freezing rain.
It was pouring cats and dogs, the kind of relentless downpour that soaked you to the bone in mere seconds. "You've got to be kidding me," I grumbled under my breath, already drenched. I know, I know, it's ironic - I used to love the rain back on Earth, but ever since arriving in Skyrim, I've grown to despise it. When every drop could mean the difference between life and death, rain loses its charm pretty quickly.
I hurried off the path, seeking refuge under the sprawling branches of a massive pine tree. The thick canopy provided a relatively safe spot from the rain. I settled against the wide, gnarled trunk, pulling my wolfskin cloak tightly around me and leaning back with a sigh of relief.
The steady patter of raindrops on leaves soon became almost hypnotic. I watched idly as they collected into fat, glistening beads before finally succumbing to gravity's pull, plinking into the rushing currents of the White River below. A light breeze set the branches swaying in a gentle dance, scattering the drops into a fine, cooling mist.
Well, it looked like I was stuck here for a while. May as well make the most of it. With a shake of my head, a fishing pole appeared in my hand, along with a bucket of fresh bait. A lazy morning of angling by the riverside? I could think of worse ways to ride out the storm.
Two hours and dozens of casts later, I had managed to reel in a respectable haul - one pogfish, a brook bass, and a decent-sized salmon. Not too shabby, even if my hook had also snagged some...less conventional prizes once more. Like a troll's massive skull, complete with one of the sockets still impaled on my line. And another waterskin, too, because why the hell not?
I carefully worked the hook free from the skull's empty eye socket. The thing was pretty heavy, and had three eye sockets. I opened my toolkit’s panel, and disassembled the skull into some fragments of bone that I could use for crafting.
The rain finally started to let up around then. I squinted up at the patches of gray sky peeking through the swaying branches, letting out a relieved breath. Maybe my luck was finally turning around.
I gathered my fishing gear and stowed it back in my inventory. Straightening up, I brushed some stray pine needles from my cloak and stepped out from under the massive tree that had sheltered me.
The dirt path was damp but passable, puddles glistening in the light shining through the clouds. I took a moment to cast my Healing Aura, and a faint golden glow wrapped around my body as the spell took effect.
Next, I turned my attention to equipping my armor. One by one, the sturdy iron pieces appeared and settled into place. Cuirass, boots, gauntlets - all secured and buckled tight. The horned helmet slipped over my head last.
My hand closed around the leather grip of my iron sword, drawing the blade. Its edge caught the light, gleaming razor-sharp. I was ready for any wolves or bandits.
The road forked up ahead, one branch veering northwest towards the Bleak Falls Barrow. I was certainly not going to take that path, since it would probably lead to my death.
Instead, I angled myself towards the southwestern route - the most direct way towards the city of Whiterun according to my map panel. It would be a long trek, much farther than the compressed distances in the game's version of Skyrim. But I was sure I could make decent progress before nightfall forced me to make camp.
My newly unlocked Alchemical Lore had me scanning the surrounding flora and fungi with fresh eyes. Before obtaining that perk, any flowers or mushrooms had looked utterly indistinct to my untrained gaze. But now, I could identify the valuable alchemical ingredients with ease. Not every flower or mushroom out in the wilds could be used for alchemy, so this perk was definitely very useful. Normal alchemists would have to read lots of books or receive training from experienced alchemists to be able to identify ingredients as easily as I could.
A cluster of brown-capped mora tapinella mushrooms caught my eye, nestled in the bark of a tree stump. Perfect! I plucked the caps, stowing them in my inventory.
The path twisted ahead, skirting a murky pool where the ground grew soft and muddy. As I carefully picked my way along the drier edges, something shifted in my peripheral vision. I started, instinctively hopping back as a massive mudcrab erupted from the muck, pincers snapping wildly.
"Whoa there!" I gasped, tightening my grip on my sword hilt. The mudcrab reared up, beady black eyes fixing me with an alien stare as its armored shell glistened wetly. This was my first real encounter with the local monster-like fauna.
No time for hesitation. I lunged forward, putting all my weight behind a overhead chop. My blade bit deep, cleaving through the crab's carapace with a sickening crunch. Greenish liquids splattered across my boots and trousers.
The mudcrab didn't go down easily though. One pincer lashed out, but I managed to block the strike with my shield. I easily managed to endure the impact, but it was still stronger than I would’ve expected from a crab.
I lightly hacked down again, putting the creature out of its misery with a well-placed blow that split what passed for its skull. The mudcrab went limp, legs twitching feebly.
I took a step back, and nearly jumped out of my skin. Three more of the armored crustaceans were closing in, having dug their way out from the mud with pincers snapping.
"You've got to be kidding me," I growled, shifting my weight into a combat stance.
These ones seemed smaller than the first, but I knew better than to underestimate them after that earlier pincer strike. I backed up slowly, letting them approach in a loose semicircle. When the first flung its pincers at me, I was ready - batting aside the clumsy attack with my shield and retaliating with a slash that sheared off two of its legs.
The mudcrab recoiled, spraying foul blood as it flailed wildly. A quick thrust, and it was done. I spun to face the next threat, sword flashing in a blur of motion too fast for the creature to react. Another mudcrab crumpled, cleaved nearly in two by the force of my blow.
The final one seemed to reconsider its approach, hesitating just out of reach. I could feel the ache in my shoulders, each ragged breath burning my lungs. My arms felt like I had been lifting weights, the muscles screaming in protest after those attacks with all of my power behind them.
Stamina wasn't an issue I'd had to worry about much back in my world. Here, it was rapidly becoming clear just how crucial it was to properly manage that finite reserve of energy. One mistimed power attack, one ill-advised sprint, and I could easily find myself too winded to defend myself properly.
Luckily this last mudcrab didn't seem inclined to press the attack. I kept my shield at the ready as I cautiously circled around, driving it back towards the muddy shallows from whence it came. When I had it cornered, I put all my waning strength into one final lunge, impaling the creature through its unprotected underbelly.
It was over. I braced my hands on my knees, gulping down deep, ragged breaths as I looked at the four mudcrabs lying dead around me. My sword dripped with their sticky, stinking fluids, and my greaves were an absolute mess.
But I was victorious.
I eyed the mudcrabs' lifeless bodies. Their chitin shells were alchemical ingredients, no doubt about that. But did I really want to stuff all four of those things into my inventory this early in the journey? That would fill up a decent chunk of space, and who knew what other ingredients or loot I might come across down the road.
Then it hit me - I didn't necessarily need to cram them into my inventory at all. I was already wearing my fur-lined backpack for the bonus carry weight, but the main compartment was completely empty. A bit of good old-fashioned pack mule duty could solve this dilemma nicely.
I shrugged the backpack off my shoulders and flipped open the top. The three smaller mudcrabs fit inside easily enough, their rigid carapaces clacking together as I carefully arranged them. But try as I might, I just couldn't wedge that big one through the opening as well. Lips pressed together, I left the largest carcass behind in the mud and resecured my now substantially heavier pack.
Straightening up, I took one last look around the marshy area that had hosted this unexpected battle. Tiny clouds of steam rose from the damp earth where the big mudcrab's insides cooled in the open air. The cloying reek was already starting to make my nose wrinkle in disgust.
"Time to get moving," I muttered, adjusting the backpack's straps across my shoulders.