Chapter 37: Way of the Voice: Part 6
Lydia and Uthgerd had returned to the bed below, their backs pressed lightly against each other, less out of trust and more for warmth and caution. Neither of them slept, but for different reasons.
Uthgerd's mind was still what she'd heard. Dragonborn, the Greybeards, the Shout that can shatter stone. That wasn't something she could fall asleep to.
Lydia, on the other hand, lay still, feigning rest. Her fingers twitched occasionally, and her brow furrowed each time the wind howled through the slats of the tower. She was alert, but not anxious.
I stood above, at the wooden post beside the room, the wind brushing lightly past my face, carrying the damp scent of river and blood from the battle earlier.
My eyes wandered up to the stars, drifting lazily over the constellations, before dropping to the smoke rising in the south. Guldun Rock, They probably don't attack humans unprovoked, I thought, it would be a waste of energy to go after a small meal anyway. I exhaled slowly and sat back in the weathered chair.
The wood creaked under my weight and my hand drifted through the air, pulling open the system menu with a thought.
I don't really need to move around my hand, but… I like it this way.
Name: Darius Wolfhart
Level: 5
Level 5? I thought I leveled up quite a bit
[Gold: 1038]
[Shop]
[Map]
[Quest]
–Way of the Voice
[Inventory]
Steel Dagger x2
Leather Armor x3
Iron Sword x10
…
..
.
I was selling off the garbage, rusted, and bloodied weapons and armor, things a merchant would never buy. I kept the good stuff, the weapons, a personal arsenal, and for merchants, the System rates were pitiful. At least I got gold out of it, without needing to travel to a town or to find a Khajiit caravan.
+480
I moved down, looking through my stats.
[Stats] [Point left: 30]
Health: 140
Magicka: 160
Stamina: 140
I still had thirty points left, a gamble, I called it. I could always use them, grow stronger, or I could escape death three times.
I'll take the second option.
[COMBAT]
[One-Handed] – 28
[Two-Handed] – 27
[Heavy-Armor] – 20
[Block] – 27
[Smithing] – 20
[Archery] – 19
[STEALTH]
[Light-Armor] – 20
[Pickpocket] – 20
[Speech] – 23
[Sneak] – 16
[Lockpicking] – 17
[Alchemy] – 15
[MAGIC]
[Enchanting] – 25
[Restoration] – 31
[Alteration] – 20
[Illusion] – 25
[Conjuration] – 20
[Destruction] – 30
[Spells]
Flames:
Sparks:
Plasma Lance:
Fury:
Healing:
[Passive Effects]
Resist Fatigue by 25%
Fortify Warmth by 25 points
Mage stone: Learn magic skills 20% faster.
[Power]
Voice of the Emperor
Highborn
Battle Cry
[Shout]
FUS:ROH:DAH
I closed the system with a thought, just as I heard footsteps behind me—soft and hesitant.
"You're still awake," I said without turning.
She didn't answer right away, just leaned against the post beside me. "Couldn't sleep," she said.
I glanced over my shoulder. Lydia stood there, arms wrapped around herself, her tunic loose in the wind, strands of dark hair fluttering across her face. She looked different out of armor.
"It's pretty late. You should rest," she said gently. "I can keep watch."
I smirked faintly. "You can't sleep?"
"She snores." A pause. "And kicks," her eyes darted below, toward the room.
I let out a breath, almost a laugh. "At least she's not swinging her sword in her sleep—yet."
The corner of her lips lifted slightly, a fake smile, then fell, her eyes drifting across the river.
I stood from the chair I'd claimed and gestured toward it. "Sit down."
She slowly shook her head.
"You wanted to take over?" I asked.
She hesitated before shifting her weight and giving me a reluctant nod. She stepped forward and sat down slowly, her posture tense, not from fear or anxiety.
I didn't leave, instead leaned against the railing beside her, arms crossed loosely, watching her more than the view.
"Why did you become a Housecarl?" I asked after a long beat.
She didn't look at me. "I don't know." She gave a vague shrug like she wasn't used to being asked that sort of question, or answering it.
Too personal?
I shook my head. "Okay, then, how do you become one?" I changed the question.
Her posture loosened a little, and her gaze dropped. She was quiet for a moment, then exhaled.
"You start out as a soldier or a city guard. They watch you, and your performance, discipline, motives, strengths, and weaknesses," she said at last, her voice even, controlled, like reading off a script. "And if you're lucky, someone pays attention. Then… the Jarl summons you, asking if you're willing to take the title."
She stopped there, and I tilted my head.
"You don't like to talk much, huh?"
Her eyes stayed away, looking at nothing, "Not when I don't know what to say."
I waited, and she surprised me by continuing.
"You don't just get the title, you train. By another Housecarl…" an awkward pause settled in the silence, "I trained under Irileth… for two years." Her hands rested in her lap, unmoving. "Then you take the Oath."
I shifted, sitting down, my back against the railing, her eyes followed me without meeting my gaze, "What kind of Oath?"
Her voice dropped a little, like reciting something from memory that still carried weight. "To serve without hesitation. To protect, even if the end is uncertain. To follow the command of the Thane—even when it's hard to understand."
She finally turned to me, and her gaze finally met mine.
"Until death takes me, or my Thane releases me."
The words sat between us for a long time, carried gently by the cold wind and hum of the now-calmed river.
"Why?" I asked, not mocking, I just couldn't fathom it.
Why would someone put their life on the line for a job? Gold? Pride? I wondered. If it was me, I'd probably run away.
Lydia turned her eyes back to the view of the mountain, and her answer was, "I don't know."
Another dodge.
I could've pressed, maybe. But she looked tired, and I was too.
I nodded once, though she couldn't see it, and leaned my head back against the post, closing my eyes. "Fair enough."
She didn't speak again and neither did I,
The wind rustled through the tower slats, softer now. Below us, the low hiss of the river kept its slow, steady rhythm. I heard her shift slightly in the chair, her posture more relaxed.
My head stayed back as I lost myself in the darkness behind my closed eyes.
***
The sun had yet to rise.
The sky was still soaked in a heavy blue, with just a hint of silver creeping up from the horizon. A faint chill lingered in the air, clinging to the stone like a breath that refused to vanish.
Uthgerd stirred.
Her eyes blinked slowly, lids heavy with sleep and the ache of the fall. For a long moment, she lay still, letting the stiffness in her limbs catch up with her thoughts. She turned, finding no one beside her.
She was alone.
Her brow furrowed. She sat up on the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the wooden floor, and let out a quiet yawn that curled into the morning silence. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for Lydia or Darius, only to find it empty. Her gaze shafted upward, toward narrow wooden stairs leading to the post.
She got and climbed it, quietly, careful not to make the wood creak too much, and when she emerged onto the platform.
She froze.
Her breath caught faintly in her throat.
Lydia sat in the chair, her body slack with sleep, the softest rise and fall in her chest. Her hand rested lightly atop Darius's head—he sat on the ground beside her, leaning against the base of the chair, his head cradled gently into her lap. His golden hair caught the early light just beginning to breach the horizon, glowing faintly like threads of fire.
Uthgerd's lips parted slightly in surprise, her eyes tracing the quiet scene before her.
She stared longer than meant to, her gaze shifted to Darius's face, calm, unguarded in sleep, his sharp jaw softened, his brow unknotted, his lips dry and slightly parted. Something stirred inside her.
She looked away.
Her shoulders stiffened as she turned toward the railing, facing the river below. The wind brushed her cheek like cold fingers. She planted her elbows on the edge and leaned forward slightly, trying not to think about what had crossed her mind a moment earlier.
Ahead, the tower's damage from the battle last night was now starkly visible. The shattered rooftop, broken beams, and dried blood. All framed by the delicate calm of the morning. A quiet battlefield.
Then, she heard something shift behind her.
A rustle.
She turned slightly and caught Lydia shifting, a small, sleepy sound escaping her as she stirred. Her head tilted downward, and her eyes widened.
Darius
In her lap.
Her hand, still resting in his hair, recoiled instinctively, curling into a loose fist by her side. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she saw it.
A shadow looming on the floor across from her. She slowly looked up.
And there stood, Uthgerd, arms folded, her mouth curled into a half-smirk, one brow raised. A look that was part teasing and part smug.
Lydia straightened immediately, clearing her throat, but not too loud to wake him. Her face was unreadable, but the tips of her ears betrayed her, having turned slightly red.
"You two looked comfortable," Uthgerd said at last, voice low and playful.
Lydia glanced down again, uncertain whether to move Darius or let him rest.
She pressed her lips and looked up at Uthgerd, "Don't you have anything better to do?"
Uthgerd grinned wider. "Not at the moment—" her eyes shifted to the river below, "Actually."
***
The first ray of sunlight slid across my face, warm and soft, breaking the veil of dreams.
I stirred, blinking against the brightness. My head was resting against the empty chair I'd fallen asleep beside, and a folded cloth rested beneath my head like a makeshift pillow. I stood slowly, stretching the stiffness from my shoulder. The lookout was empty.
I touched the cloth and tucked it into my inventory, then moved down the wooden post back into the tower.
The room below was quiet and vacant, with no sign of Lydia or Uthgerd. I swept the area one last time for anything useful, bandages, coins, wine, and books I could read in my free time, and then I climbed down another floor and out onto the bridge.
The wind greeted me, cool and fresh. The early light shimmered over the river below, where the horses grazed lazily near the water's edge, their tails flicking idly.
And then I saw them.
At the far bend of the river, where the water pooled gently tumbling down into the waterfall, two familiar figures moved in the water, naked, glistening, lit by morning light like nymphs out of a myth.
I paused, halfway across the bridge, taking in the view. Their back was to me, mostly submerged, arm brushing the surface as they floated and laughed quietly—until Uthgerd turned and spotted me.
"Darius!" she called, waving an arm over her head. Her voice echoed off the rocks. "Come on down, swim with us!"
I smirked and waved back.
Lydia, at her side immediately pinched Uthgerd's arm under the water, her voice barely audible, but sharp. "Hey! We don't have any clothes on."
Uthgerd scoffed. "What, you think he's never seen a woman before?"
"Weren't you the one worried about him seeing us?" Lydia shot back, frowning.
Uthgerd's opened her mouth, ready to fire something off—only to freeze. A sudden image flashed across her mind: the early morning, the quiet moment atop the post, Darius's face asleep in Lydia's lap. His sharp jawline, tousled golden hair, lips parted in calm. The memory hit her square in the gut, and she flushed instantly.
"How deep is it?!" I asked bringing their attention back to me.
She cleared her throat, "A-a-It's shallow," she yelled, waving again. "Come down from the side!" she pointed to the tower.
I glanced at the tower and then below. It was pretty high, twenty meters at least.
Shallow, huh? I didn't know why, but it seemed like a lie.
Not that I cared.
I clasped my arms over my head, took in a long breath, and leaped off the ledge. The wind screamed past my ears as I twisted into a front slip, legs tucked, controlling the spin. Just before I hit the water, my clothes shimmered away, stored in the inventory mid-air.
The impact came hard and fast. My feet hit the water like a wet slap across the cheek that was already burning red, jolting up through my bones. And then the cold swallowed me.
I reached the bottom of the river and kicked off the sandy bottom and burst to the surface, shaking water from my hair as I swam over.
Both of their eyes were glued on me as I swam closer, but I noticed something: both women were now neck-deep in the water, arms crossed against their chests, and only their heads remained above water.
"Suddenly shy?" I teased, treading closer.
"You're also naked," Lydia muttered, her eyes flicking to the side.
I smirked, "I just wanted to make it fair."
Uthgerd splashed a bit of water my way, "I thought I said to come over from the side," she said pouting, "You could've hurt yourself."
I shrugged, "But I didn't." Even if I had, I could always heal myself.
We floated like that for a few minutes, talking, laughing, until the cold no longer bothered us. The sun climbed slowly beyond the waterfall, painting gold across the river's surface.
Gradually, Lydia and Uthgerd loosened up, drifting in shallower parts, the water reaching just below their shoulders. Even Uthgerd leaned back on a rock at one point, letting herself rise higher out of the water, her chest barely submerged in water.
Then, she opened her eyes and glanced at Lydia, still shying away, she splashed water her way, teasing. "Come on, stop being so stiff!"
Lydia yelped and swam backward, dodging the splash, only to back right into me.
She froze, as I flinched.
Her back hit my chest, and something else, she jolted forward suddenly, her eyes wide. She turned without a word and quickly swam a few strokes away, cheeks flushed.
"Sorry," I offered, trying not to laugh. "Didn't mean to—"
"Don't," she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the water.
Uthgerd, oblivious to the moment, sent a spray of water directly at my face. "You're on our turf now, Dragonborn!"
I wiped the water from my face and grinned. "You sure you want to start something you can't finish?" I looked at her, "Again?" I chuckled.
Uthgerd frowned, "Oh you've done it now!"
And just like that, it turned into war.
Some time passed, and we were still splashing water like kids when Lydia finally called it. "It's getting pretty late," she said, brushing wet hair behind her ear. She glanced over her shoulder, where the sun was already well above the horizon.
Uthgerd and I turned to look at her, then at the sky. She wasn't wrong. The morning had slipped by fast.
Maybe past 7, I wondered.
"I think we should be on the road now," Lydia added.
I gave a soft nod and turned my eyes toward the riverbank.
"Alright, fun's over," I said with a grin and began to swim toward the edge.
But halfway there, I paused and turned, smirking over my shoulder at the two women still floating in the water. "What? Aren't you coming?"
Uthgerd gave a low chuckle. "You first."
I blinked, then realized what she meant. Right, we are all naked.
"Hmm," I muttered, swimming backward a few strokes. "Doesn't seem fair."
Uthgerd raised a brow. "You're the man here. I think you can take a little unfair."
I rolled my eyes, exhaled, and hoisted myself up, climbing up the rocky surface under the water.
Water streamed off me, my skin catching the light in beads. My back muscles flexed as I rose from the water, I groaned as the pain from yesterday hit me, I stretched my arms, leaning left and right, stretching.
Lydia turned her head away instantly, her cheeks blooming red. Uthgerd followed, though her eyes lingered longer before she scoffed and snapped her gaze to the water.
"By the gods…" she muttered under her breath.
From the inventory, I pulled out a linen cloth and tied it around my waist. Another one followed, which I used to towel myself off.
"Alright," I said as I turned back toward the river, drying my hair with the cloth, water still dripping from the tips. "Your turn, ladies."
Lydia's face flushed ever harder, as her lips parted, trying to say something.
Uthgerd squinted. "You pervert. Get out of here!"
I raised my hands in surrender, "Alright, alright," stepping backward with an exaggerated bow. "As you command."
I turned around and left the riverside, still drying my hair, chuckling to myself as I went to check on the horses.
Behind the boulders, Lydia and Uthgerd waded out cautiously. Their clothes, tunic, trousers, and belt sat folded on the rocks. Water glistened across their skin as they climbed onto the flat stone, their hair clinging to their shoulders and necks, eyes flicking toward the tower to make sure I was gone.
Uthgerd dressed first, dragging the lined shirt over her toned frame, water still dripping from her hair. She slipped into her pants with ease, buckling her belt with a confident hug.
Lydia took a bit longer, tugging her tunic over her body with a quiet sigh. The fabric clung in places from the residual moisture. She fastened her leather straps in quick and practiced motions, though her face was still slightly pink.
By the time I returned, leading the horses, I was fully dressed again in my usual wear. I held the reins loosely and approached the two women, who were drying their hair with a cloth.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Just one thing," Lydia said, brushing damp strands from her face. "Armor."
I gave a short nod and touched their shoulders, with a thought, their clothes shimmered and retracted into the inventory, replaced by their gear. Steel and fur, form-fitting iron and sturdy leather.
Lydia rolled her shoulder under the pauldrons, nodding her thanks. Uthgerd smirked as she ran a hand through her wet hair.
I mounted the horse and extended a hand toward Lydia.
She looked at me for a moment, then glanced sideways. "Ah–uh–I'll ride with her," she said quickly, motioning to Uthgerd
I raised a brow, thinking, and soon remembered the moment in the river earlier, "Suit yourself."
With a small jump, Lydia mounted Uthgerd's horse, taking the back. Uthgerd gave both of us a confused look before kicking the steed gently into motion.
***
We rode on, following the winding path that trailed down beside the waterfall. Trees bent overhead, casting dancing shadows across the stone. Moss clung to roots, and wildflowers sprouted along the edge. The sound of water never left us, always present, like a quiet hum in the back of the world.
As we descended, stone arches loomed on the side view, moss-covered, ancient, like the ribs of a long-dead civilization. The steps leading upward were half buried in the dirt. At the base stood a figure.
A woman with pale silver hair stood near the base of the steps, her back turned to us. She had a fur-lined shawl over her shoulders, black leggings, and sturdy fur-lined boots.
****
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