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The Forsworn Retribution	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 60892 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Chapter List
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Work Before Pleasure

The Forsworn Retribution
Part IV - "Mercenaries"
By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson
Original Date Written: June 11, 2014

As Maximus swaggered his way through the city gates, Sabrina followed not far behind, obediently scuttling after him like some sort of servant. As an amusing idea suddenly came to him, a smug little smile grew on Maximus’ lips. He gave the vampire a glance from over his shoulder, chuckling as he asked “Say, if I wanted you to enchant another ring, would you do as I say? Consider it aiding the team, heh heh.” Sabrina suspiciously raised an eyebrow. She answered with a slow “Well, I suppose it would depend. What kind of enchantment would you want, and of what strength?”

Maximus grinned. Now, he had her. He slowed down, quickly coming to a stop. Sabrina paused beside him, her eyes going to his hand as he raised it up. Maximus made a circle with his index finger and thumb, adjusting the size over a moment or two. Eventually giving a thoughtful nod, he said “Yeah, about that big. Get a ring this big, alright? And, give it the strongest enchantment you can handle for resistance to flame. That’d be perfect.” Sabrina briefly narrowed her eyes, glancing at him before looking back at his fingers. Why did this request feel oddly suggestive?

Lightly clearing her throat, Sabrina readily said “Alright, I can manage that. Mind if I ask why, exactly, the ring needs to be that wide? I somehow doubt it would fit even your thumb.” Maximus grinned more, quickly dropping his hand. She really had no idea, did she? “Just do it. You can get another soul from some Forsworn bastard, for all I care. Just make it as strong as you can.” One corner of Sabrina’s mouth briefly quirked upwards. Shifting her weight to one foot, she put her hands to her hips. “Fine, then. I’ll do it tonight. I wasn’t in much of a mood to chat, anyway.”

In a mumble under her breath, she added “...Get cantankerous when you drink too much, anyway...” Maximus’ brow sharply sank in annoyance. What a nasty little witch, with a nasty little mouth to match. Would she be so kind as to repeat that a little more loudly? It’d give him a lovely excuse to make her hold her ankles, for an hour or two. Before Maximus could spit the inebriated vitriol swimming in his head, Sabrina had walked away, quickly venturing off of the established road leading away from Markarth. In moments, she was gone, vanishing into the darkness of open terrain.

Maximus rolled his jaw around, his brow remaining furrowed. He resumed heading down the pathway, his feet lightly stomping into the dirt with every step. When he saw his lady friends, huddled around in a little bundle just off the path, his eyes immediately homed in on the Dunmer. He noticed her glance at him, then quickly look away, her lips twisting uncomfortably. It didn’t take long for her to look at him once again, and when she did, he could see the fear in her eyes. She looked like a doe facing an incoming bear, frozen in place with nowhere to go. It was enough to make him chuckle.

He was on the warpath, agitated and smiling his evil little smile. He had not gotten over her earlier stunt. She knew what time it was. She almost resigned with a sigh, but the sadistic glint in his eyes kept her on her toes. Right then and there, she only had two questions on her mind: “what would he do to her, and for how long?” Svetlana and Bunny both chuckled at some unheard joke, then looked at Maximus. They raised their eyebrows, noticing how he ignored all but the dark elf. Svetlana gestured towards the sack of supplies by her feet, halfway through asking Maximus if he wanted a drink when he interrupted her.

Eyes still locked on the Dunmer, he raised a hand, pointing at her. Solemnly, he stated “You.” The Dunmer visibly swallowed. Raising a hand close to her chest, she barely pointed at herself, timidly asking “M-Me?” Maximus’ smile grew to a sadistic grin. The chuckle he let out made things all the more daunting. “Yeah, you. Come with me.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Taking her by the wrist, he started marching further off of the path, dragging her behind him. The Dunmer gasped, halfheartedly trying to protest as he led her towards a nearby farmhouse. Svetlana threw up her hands with a shake of her head, watching the two of them go.

Well, here we go, again. Maximus had gotten his drunk on, and he was in the mood for dark meat. In a way, it sort of surprised the Dunmer. With all the variety he now had, he hadn’t really made much use of her, lately. She should’ve known he wouldn’t have just let her off with a scolding, he had gotten far too upset for that. That, above all else, made her nervous. She had never angered him to the point of raising his voice at her, before...And, on top of that, she had never done anything to earn herself anything less than rough sex. Just how was he going to treat her, now? How many favours was he going to call in?

Oh, that’s right...The favours. She had forgotten all about them! The idea had just seemed to...Lose importance, at some point. How many favours did Maximus still have? Oh, if she asked, he’d probably say at least a dozen. This latest incident had surely bought herself more time under his thumb...More time under him, period. What was this infernal tingling in her stomach, all of a sudden? Why were her ears beginning to sizzle? A scrap of dignity made her try to pull her arm free, but she gave up long before she succeeded. He hadn’t even needed to struggle with her. Part of her still felt bad for earlier, and if this was her punishment, well...

To think he’d get so upset, with her...To think he could make her feel guilty, it was unheard of. She tried to turn the tables around in her mind, tried to find a reason to get angry right back at him and make herself feel better, but it just didn’t happen. She was dead silent by the time he had gotten her behind the farmhouse. Maximus furrowed his brow at her, leering openly with a sadistic grin. “Get naked, now. We’re gonna have a little chat.” She was already beginning to take off her armour when she finally found her voice. Of course, that didn’t really do her much good, anyway.

Desperate to say something, anything, she could only manage to squeak out a pathetic “W-What kind of talk involves nakedness?” Maximus just chuckled, positively oozing dark glee. His eyes got sharper, lit up inside with some predatory glint. His widening grin made her nervously swallow some saliva. She dropped her eyes from his, an embarrassed little frown coming over her. What a stupid thing to say. If she opened her mouth again, she’d just make this a whole lot worse, for herself.

She felt some relief, when he started stripping. If he was getting nude, too, he must not have been planning on parading her through the city, naked and shivering. He undressed faster than she did, tossing off all of his armour by the time she had finally slipped off her leggings. She could only awkwardly stand there for a second before he was upon her, making her suck in a gasp when his left hand found her throat. He squeezed just tight enough to let her know that he wasn’t pleased, then forced her to take a step or two back until she met the farmhouse wall. He looked down into her big, crimson eyes, brow sinking deep, jaw tightening severely.

He was angry. He wasn’t grinning, anymore. The amused tone in his voice continued, but it felt colder now, harsher. Her hands went up to his elbow, holding him lightly, too humbled to think of fighting, too guilt-ridden to get upset. When his other hand was abruptly shoved between her thighs, she grunted, eyes widening. He wasn’t gentle when he cupped her quim, and he intentionally ignored her clit. She shut her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath when he forced a finger into her, pushing into her moistening passage.

She dropped her head, trying to look down. He pushed her back into place, fingering her a little more roughly. His eyes had narrowed by then, and his tone had dropped to a low mutter. “One ruby. One ruby. You risked it all for one ruby. You’re unbelievable. I still can’t believe you’d do something so...So...What in Stendarr’s name were you thinking?” The truth spilled out from between the Dunmer’s lips before she could even consider lying. An eye shut in discomfort, she whimpered out “I wasn’t thinking...I just did it, it was an impulse!...It just happened, I couldn’t help it!...”

Her jaw momentarily tightened when he sped his fingering up, pushing his digit as deep into her as he could get. His knuckles bunting against her cunt, faint wet sounds started filling the air between them. They all went unheard by the two of them, lost as they were in their punishing and punishment. He stared into her eyes, muttering out “I thought I could trust you not to get up to any trouble. I thought you had some shred of common sense. Do you even comprehend what you did? When I first saw you, you were begging not to be thrown into the mines. You were willing to do anything to avoid it. That’s exactly what you risked again, today. You don’t even know why you did it!”

She tried to answer, but something had snuffed the voice right back out of her, again. Whether it was shame or the finger ruthlessly battering her walls, she didn’t know, didn’t want to know. When she didn’t respond, he crammed a second finger into her, stuffing her even harder. Now, he was ramming his hand against her lips, almost punching her. The savage fingering made her whimper again, and her hands fell from his elbow to his chest, long nails lightly digging into his skin. She shut her eyes, tears beginning to glisten over her eyelashes. Maximus’ tone began to turn noticeably cruel. Eyes widening, he demanded “Well? Was there even any point in me paying your bounty? My family could’ve used that coin!”

The Dunmer opened her eyes, barely looking up at him. He actually paused at the tears in her eyes, the way her bottom lip began to shake. Quite simply, she said she was sorry. His expression lightened, completely. He felt torn, for a moment. Part of him wanted to dismiss this as simply one of her cons, but...This didn’t feel fake. His fingers slipped out of her, and he slightly turned his head to the side. She let out a quiet sniffle, watching him. Her hands slipped down to his stomach, running over his muscles. Her eyes widened as his hold on her throat lightened. Was that just the moonlight, or had his eyes gotten shinier?

All of a sudden, he had her by the wrist, pulling her around him. She gasped when he sent her to the ground, quickly and firmly guiding her to her hands and knees. She tried looking over her shoulder at him, but the little chuckle he gave was all the indication she needed. His voice was warm again, as if he always had a laugh at the back of his throat. “You’re sorry?...Well, good. I’d expect nothing less than a proper apology. Your words, though...Well, we all know how much your word is worth. No, you’re gonna apologize the only way you really can...”

The Dunmer hazarded a guess on what he meant. She raised up her hips, presenting her ash-gray backside like a dog in heat, defenceless slit glistening in the dark just below. She quietly waited as he got behind her, stomach twisting into a nervous knot. She was tempted to look over her shoulder, but her head remained low in chagrin, all the same. As usual, maybe it was better not to see. For some funny reason, she didn’t think he’d make sweet love to her like she were a princess on her wedding night. The resounding crack of the spank he gave her was a definite answer.

The thunderous slap of palm against supple cheek ripped through the air, barely drowning out the yelp she produced. Several yards off, Svetlana nearly spat up her mouthful of mead, head twisting this way and that as she sought out the source of the noise. “What in Oblivion was that?!” She shrilly cried, eyes wide. Maximus chuckled to himself, momentarily eyeing the prominent hand print that instantly grew on the dark elf’s backside. Her chin barely above the grass, she grit her teeth hard, trying and failing to ignore the stinging in her rump.

The knot in her stomach grew stronger. Breathing a little fast, she hissed out “You...You bastard...You brute...” “Quiet, hussy. You deserve even worse, and we’re not done talking, yet. You’re gonna make me a promise, and if you don’t keep it...Oh, so help me Akatosh...” His hands slapped down over her hips, getting an authoritative grip on her. She expected him to just plunge into her, to ravage her like he usually did, but instead...

His throbbing length pushed up between her cheeks, gliding through the valley of her backside. She found herself grunting and whining at this ultimate of teases, his shaft rather firmly rubbing back and forth across her pucker. Her terrified little rosebud instantly clenched up, remembering quite well having to deal with Sabrina’s meat. In no way, shape, or form was it eager to deal with Maximus, too. Talk about a pain in the ass. She bit on her bottom lip, screwing her eyes shut tight. The sensation of his humping only made her imagine something else getting pounded, something tight...Burning...Getting wetter by the second...

Tears of humiliation ran down her face. She could hear Maximus behind her, over her, controlling her...The knot in her stomach grew unbearably tight. She was so helpless, so needy, and still so soaked in that damn, blasted, ridiculous emotion, guilt. How she hated it with a passion, yet was powerless to repel it. It wasn’t something she could end...Only he could. Why wasn’t he getting it over, with? His words gave her her answer.

“You’re gonna promise me...And I mean really promise me...That if I take you into another town or city, you’re never gonna try picking someone’s pocket, again.”

“B-But, I didn’t-!”

“If something doesn’t belong to you, you damn well leave it there. I can’t have you at my side all the time, and if I can’t trust you not to get into trouble...Then I have no use for you. If I have no use for you, I might as well just haul you into the mines, myself. Am I, mmf, making myself clear?!”

A little sob caught in her throat. She was burning up down there, but more worryingly, more embarrassingly, her rosebud was slowly starting to relax...Not enough to let him through, of course. No, not at all. That would never happen. But, maybe enough to let a finger through...Slowly, just to explore, a little. If he caught on to that particular development, he might just get funny ideas about where he should stick his meat. Not that she really wanted him to stick it anywhere, but...They were there, they were both horny, and she didn’t really feel like she had been properly punished, yet...

“I said, am I making myself clear, dagger-ears?”

It had been a little while since he had last called her that. She had almost forgotten what it felt like, if you could imagine. Her face flushed ebon, and another sob was caught in her throat. She nodded vigorously, sniffling in humiliation. Finally, the battering ram against her unlocked backdoor disappeared. When his tip punched her womanhood, she held her breath. When he pushed through her lips and started feeding her second mouth, a shiver ran up her spine. When his oversized claymore sank so deep that her hips felt a foot apart, the knot in her stomach magically undid itself, and her eyes began crossing. Time to get the show on the road!

Well, this made sense, in a way. He had spent so much time stretching her throat, he was probably going to spend a lot of time stretching her down there, too...A lot of time. She shivered again, whimpering as she dropped her chin to the dirt. If he didn’t use his timber on her more often, she’d never get used to it. She arched her back, pushing herself against him, hoping he’d rut like a beast and finish as soon as possible. Whether he noticed or not, he certainly did start off with rough pace. Every time he thrust his whole length in, her cushiony little ass clapped against his loins, and the impact jolted her back and forth.

There it was, again: that deep feeling, too deep, deeper than anyone else had ever gotten. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was tickling her ribs. When he collided with her end in a little kiss, she gave a loud whine, legs trembling beneath him. His undercarriage was smacking against her swollen clit, teasing her, slowly inching her towards the ultimate shame. Maximus was not fooling around.

“You haven’t promised me, yet. Say it. Say it, or I’ll be even rougher. There was this particular position I had thought of, heh heh...”

The Dunmer sobbed. He wanted her to say it? Really? Weepy with tears, she had to fight a lilt in her voice whenever he hilted her, which just so happened to be every single damn time he slammed himself home. To say she sounded pathetic and hilarious would be selling it short.

“I...I prooomise...Hnng...T-To never...I...I swearrr oh please...To neverrr...”

She trailed off into a fit of weeping. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t! Maximus practically growled. When he started to move, her eyes went wide like saucers. Her breath caught in her throat as he dug around inside her, savagely drilling around as he started rising to his feet. She gasped in surprise when he started pulling her legs up with him, putting her in the rather strenuous position of a human wheelbarrow. Her arms barely supporting her, her face nearly shoved right into the dirt, she desperately looked over her shoulder at him. Blood already rushing to her head, she demanded an explanation. Well, maybe begged would be a better way of putting it.

“Maximus, what in Azura’s name are you doing? This is a- Ang!”

Maximus started thrusting even harder, practically bashing his loins into her’s. He let out a sadistic little chuckle, staring down at her with a grin. His hands under her thighs, he kept the lower half of her body up in the air, ensuring her legs remained nice and spread for him. She tried not to move her legs, but when she lost feeling in them, there was nothing she could do to prevent the bouncing and kicking. “I haven’t heard that promise, yet, elf. Are you gonna say it, or am I gonna have to get tough?” She immediately whimpered. He wasn’t serious...Was he? Could he really get even more rough? Sure, he had only just started the new position, but...

In an instant, she decided it would probably be pretty smart of her not to try and test him. If he could follow through on that threat, well...Better not to find out, period. She had learned quite some time ago that he wasn’t prone to idle threats. Besides, something else was beginning to occupy her attention, a certain build-up down below, a burning culmination...She was close, and it made her jaw tighten up. She tried her best to tell him what he wanted to hear, but if she wasn’t sobbing, she was moaning.

“I promise...I won’t get auww...I won’t, nooo, stop it!...Get into trouble, anymooore!...”

Maximus narrowed his eyes. His grin went from ear to ear. She was almost done, and in more ways than one. He knew it all too well.

“Won’t get into trouble doing...What?”

She sobbed, hard. She had more to say? But she couldn’t even think, anymore! What more did he want from her? She was almost...Almost there...Aaaand...!

Maximus suddenly pulled out of her, letting go of her legs. She hit the ground with an “Oof,” her lower half collapsing against the grass. Before she could understand what was happening, Maximus had flipped her over, gotten over her, and grabbed her head. Her eyes widened in a daze when she saw his grin above, glistening manhood below. She tried to say something, but he just used that opportunity to shove himself inside her mouth, stretching her lips around his slick pole. One of her eyes closed in disgust as he barrelled towards her throat, her own juices filling her mouth with womanly flavour. Quite swiftly, the taste of her own sauce became the least of her worries.

His treatment of her throat was no gentler than his treatment of her pussy, but blessedly, it was much more brief. She gagged for a few moments, when he first forced his way into her gullet...It had been quite some time since the last throat-stretching session, after all. Her own taste, mixed with his, spread to every corner of her mouth, giving her a taste of true friendship. With his churning undercarriage smacking her chin on every thrust, she was made dimly aware of the fact that he was feeding her the whole length. Well, at least that breathlessness wasn’t just her imagination!

When he finished, there was no denying it. The Dunmer’s mother had probably felt this one, all the way over in Windhelm.

Maximus’ breathing came to a head, and then he let out a low groan. Even that mild sound of pleasure made her face go ebon, again. When the sticky, salty heat started spilling into her mouth, however, she really went flush. Maximus chuckled over her, watching her face twist up. She shut her eyes to avoid seeing him, but there was still the heat, the weight, the sounds, the aroma...He groaned again, shifting himself around in her mouth, making sure his seed got on her teeth, her tongue, everywhere. The Dunmer’s knees shot together, her thighs crushing against one another in a bid to fight the unabated inferno between them. He just wouldn’t stop, streamer after streamer of thick, gunky lust coating her mouth, quickly forming a puddle at the back of her throat.

Had he been backed up, or something? With a load this big, she’d almost think he hadn’t gotten off, in a while. Eventually however, after almost a minute, the ordeal had finally ended. He withdrew until only his tip remained between her lips, which she pressed down tight around him, dreading the idea of spilling any of the...Gift he had so graciously given her. Bad enough it was in her mouth, she didn’t need it on her chest, too. She opened her eyes a little, glancing up at his face before she saw one of his hands go down. Her eyes crossed as she focused on the pole pointing into her face. Squeezing his shaft tight, he gave himself a few slow, firm strokes, milking out one last spurt into the crinkled sphincter she had made with her clamping lips. She arched her eyebrows, looking up at him in silent protest. He slipped his tip free, then let the final few drops of his batter leak over her lips, slowly dribbling down to her chin.

Her cheeks were practically puffing out from the mouthful he had given her, the lukewarm man-juice sloshing around as she panted through her nose. Maximus looked down at her with a smile. He raised an eyebrow, watching her lie there, near motionless. She probably wanted to spit it all out, but she knew that that would’ve just insulted him. She was a little more well-behaved, these days. At the same time, though, she wasn’t going to swallow it unless he made her. Fickle little dark elf, wasn’t she? Maybe he should just let her sit there for a while, reflect on her bad behaviour with a mouthful of extra creamy Maximus Brew to keep her company.

He didn’t even have to say anything. He just grinned, and she got the message. Her stomach started fluttering as she began to swallow, almost as if resenting...Or welcoming...The liqueur she was imbibing. Even her pointed ears started to turn ebon as she swallowed once, twice, then finally a third time, her throat visibly tensing with each little portion of seed it had to contend with. When she was finished, she quietly huffed and puffed, her mouth lazily hanging open. Her eyes were half-closed, drooping in exhaustion. Her lips were visibly slick with smeared ivory juices, and there were still a few little streaks of white, on her chin. Maybe he’d remind her to clean herself up before she went back to the others...Maybe not.

Smiling, he was trying not to laugh as he asked “So, have you learned your lesson?” She feebly nodded, eyelids flickering as she glanced up at him. She reluctantly licked the syrupy sludge from her lips, not even bothering to try and hide it from him. His smile grew. “You still haven’t made me that promise...Disappointing, dagger-ears.” For a split-second, she gave him a little glare, but she was too tired to maintain it any longer than that. That, or, she didn’t want to spur him into trying for a second round. Around her little pants, she quietly said “I promise...I won’t get into any more trouble...I know it was stupid...” Her eyes went up to his, and she added “I don’t know why I did it...I saw the opportunity, and I just went for it...I couldn’t help it. I’m still thankful you paid my bounty.”

Maximus simply looked at her, for a few seconds. She had no idea what was going through his head, right then and there, but she would’ve given almost anything to find out. In the dark, she almost didn’t see his hand move. He took her by the back of the head, sinking his fingers into her raven hair. Pulling her close, he leaned over, forcing her into a kiss. She didn’t fight it, and when he kissed her a second time, she even reciprocated. That monstrous feeling from before, that sickening sense of guilt, was finally washing away...And it was about damn time, too. When he let her go, he got back into his armour, then headed off without another word.

Svetlana and Bunny both smiled at him as he reemerged, a blase look on his face, a confident swagger in his step. Svetlana raised her eyebrows, likewise raising another bottle of mead. Knowingly, she asked “What was that all about? Do I even want to know where the elf is?” Maximus grinned, taking the bottle from her. Pulling out the stopper, he chuckled and shook his head just before tipping it back, enjoying a nice swig. He had really worked up quite the thirst, teaching the dark elf her lesson. Good thing Svetlana had gotten so many bottles, for the night. Finally, he could just kick back, relax, and have a few...

Wait a minute. His eyes narrowed his remembrance, his brow twitching downwards. He lowered his bottle before he could take a second quaff. He quickly stuck a hand into his armour, fishing around this way and that. Bunny tried telling him about a potion she had brewed up for him, but he didn’t pay much attention. Realizing he was preoccupied, she asked “What’re you looking for, Max?” Maximus looked off at nothing in particular, digging around in his chest piece. “Trying to get that...That damn letter the courier gave me...Where in Oblivion did that thing end up?...Ah, finally!”

Maximus raised his eyebrows, pulling the folded parchment out from inside his scalemail vest. Eyeing the letter lazily, he clearly wasn’t all that concerned about what the contents might be. “I guess it’s about time I gave this a read...Not really in the mood to do any marching tonight, though.” Svetlana smiled in relief, pulling the stopper off of her second bottle. “Oh, thank Mara. Neither am I, my feet are killing me, Max. I got all these drinks for a reason, you know. Let’s just relax tonight, okay?” He glanced at her, smiling wolfishly. Relax, eh? Well...He still wanted to get that priestess posterior in his lap, so maybe he’d take her advice into consideration. Still, it wouldn’t do to just ignore that missive, forever. It should have work, after all. Work, and thus more coin to enjoy. Who could say no to that? Zenithar rewarded the diligent, as they say.

With that in mind, he tried unfolding the letter with one hand, but the wax seal prevented that callous approach. He tried opening it with both hands, but quickly stopped before he could tip his bottle over. Sighing, he held the letter up to Bunny, saying “Mind popping this thing open, for me?” Bunny smiled and nodded, jumping at the opportunity to help. She quickly fiddled her fingers through the wax seal, sending little translucent red pieces falling to the ground. Finally, Maximus flipped the letter open, raising the bottle to his lips as he started reading it over. He had barely gotten halfway through it when his eyes widened. The others noticed his reaction, right away. He swallowed his mouthful of mead, then blurted out “Oh, crap!”

“...What, in the name of Ysmir, kept you from Dragon Bridge?” Jarl Igmund’s eyes were practically alight with anger, burning on his face like smoldering coal. Maximus stood there a little awkwardly, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Who would’ve thought that his first real meeting with the Jarl would turn out so negative? The steward and Housecarl both stared at Maximus no less severely, but they remained respectfully silent. This was an issue between Jarl and sellsword, and judging by how justly furious Igmund was, Maximus had every right feeling ill at ease. The young Imperial tried to answer, but Igmund was quick to cut him off.

“I tried to get there as fast as I could, my Jarl, but-”

Igmund bolted up from the Mournful Throne. “Like Oblivion you did! Don’t lie to my face, boy! I sent word for you around four in the afternoon, four! And what happens? The letter doesn’t find you until three hours later, and why?! Because you’re drinking and laughing it up with some damn wench at the Silver-Blood’s inn!” Maximus heard the guards at the entrance to the throne room slowly turn to the side, looking inwards at the debacle. Maximus’ anxiety rose when he realized that their hands were at their swords. One word from the Jarl, and they’d have him in chains.

Maximus quickly said “My team and I didn’t expect work to be in, so soon. How-”

Igmund’s anger only escalated. When he started pacing left and right, throwing and swinging his arms, he reminded Maximus of a hungry troll. “You and your team, you and your team! I keep hearing about this “team,” but all I ever see is you, and you don’t exactly look like the second coming of General Talos, boy! I’d like to meet this “team” of your’s, and see who exactly failed to save the life of Torygg’s ambassador!”

Steward Raerek turned his head in the Jarl’s direction. With the mildest hint of appeasement, he said “Igmund, please, try to-”

Igmund gave Raerek a wide-eyed look, barking out “You know just as well as I do what this means! It’s going to take months to smooth this over with Solitude! Nobody is going to understand how we could’ve let this happen!” Igmund’s eyes turned back to Maximus, and he continued speaking as he finally stopped pacing. “...How you let this happen, I should say. I should’ve known better, I’ve always despised working with you people! Lazy sellswords, no loyalty, no motivation but coin! I offered plenty of coin, and it still wasn’t enough!” Maximus hastily offered “We got to Dragon Bridge as quickly as we could, and we killed all the Forsworn there, but-”

Igmund dropped himself back into his throne, and although he interrupted Maximus yet again, it was clear to see that he had worked out the worst of his wrath. “But the ambassador was already dead, which makes the entire task a failure. Get out of my sight, I’m sick of hearing your excuses.” Maximus needed a second to do as Igmund bade, bitterness hardening his eyes. When he turned and started leaving, he glanced at the two guards watching him, his brow already furrowing deep. As he descended the lengthy staircase before the throne room, he momentarily clenched his hands so tight that his knuckles went white. Falling from grace was bad enough, but having to deal with the shouting of an unreasonable, obtuse Jarl was something else, entirely.

Unfortunately, the unpleasantness of Maximus’ visit to Understone Keep didn’t end there. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he quickly became aware of the sensation of being watched. He subtly glanced left and right, and when he saw her, his brow sharply sank. It was Anya, the Thalmor soldier, leaning her side against a stone wall. Openly watching him with her arms crossed over her chest, she stood up straight when she had his attention, slowly beginning to approach him. Maximus’ eyes rapidly darted around. He didn’t see her superior, and her twin soldier was likewise absent. What exactly did she want with him, in private?

As she approached him, Maximus, whose tone was less than thrilled, said “We’ve got to stop meeting, like this...Anya.” She coldly smiled, for a moment. Sounding rather self-assured, she casually replied “Yes, go ahead, throw that name around as if it means something. I’d be willing to bet my life that that’s the only thing you’ll ever find out about me. I, on the other hand, have found out plenty about you, Maximus...All in a relatively short time, as well.” As she came up to him, he noticed her subtly spy around, trying to be quick and discreet about her glances. With an elf’s comparatively larger eyes, however, he couldn’t help but wonder why she had even bothered trying to hide it. He could’ve seen it blindfolded: this little encounter of theirs not only went unknown by her colleagues, but would’ve likely been considered inappropriate, on top of that.

The coldness in his eyes only escalated as she continued. “Maximus, surname unknown. Parents died in the Forsworn Rebellion, almost two decades ago. Has been raised by an otherwise childless Nord couple ever since then, who live somewhere in the Reach, probably close-by to Markarth. Now fancies himself a sellsword, solving the Jarl’s issues with a motley crew of accomplices...The most uninteresting file I’ve ever put together, on someone. Hardly a single piece of parchment.” Maximus didn’t let her knowledge of his personal life faze him. That was the response she expected, the exact response she wanted. If seeing him get agitated got her panties moist, he wouldn’t give her the pleasure.

He cut right to the chase, instead. “That’s cute, you asked around town and heard a few idle rumours. What exactly do you want, Anya?” His flagrant disrespect made her teeth go on edge. She probably would’ve tried coming up with some clever excuse to attack or arrest him, had those actions not inevitably required an explanation to her superior. Maximus was quite pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to turn the tables on the High Elf. His open lack of regard for her position made her breathe hard, proving she had become reliant on her Thalmor standing for intimidating people into deference. In Maximus’ eyes, she was, in other words, a bully, but that wasn’t exactly a tremendous surprise.

Anya was all too aware of the sudden loss of ground she had just sustained, in that moment. Instead of the power she was used to, she had ended up talking herself into equal ground, with him. Trying to regain the upper hand she believed she had originally possessed, she did like he had, getting straight to the point. “I expect your assistance in a matter. I have reason to believe that there’s a Talos worshipper in the Jarl’s court, but these cretins all know full well the penalties for such treachery. They’re too careful around myself and my superior, and ferreting about would arouse too much suspicion. I need someone to act as my proxy, and search in my stead.”

Maximus had already made up his mind on what his answer would be, but he humoured her for a moment with a question. “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t just about Talos worship? You have another reason for so generously allowing me the opportunity to assist you.” His subtle sarcasm made her brow furrow. Perhaps that annoyance was the only reason why she elaborated. “Clever, for a human. Of course, it’s not as straightforward as that. My superior officer isn’t aware of the Talos worship, as I am. I want to apprehend the heretic, myself.” Maximus smiled, nonchalantly commenting “Oh, wanna impress your boss, huh? That’s nice. Real nice. Real enterprising, as a matter of fact.” Her eyes simply narrowed.

Before she could respond, he continued. Beginning to walk away, he flatly said “Unfortunately for you, I’ll have to decline your offer. As I’m sure you’re aware or will soon find out, the Jarl doesn’t really want me around, right now. I won’t be able to just wander the halls and search. Besides, a pressing matter requires my full attention out in the city, so I’ll just go ahead and bid you a good day, miss.” Anya tried to stop him, grabbing him by the upper arm. At first, she outright demanded his compliance, but when he pulled his arm free from her grasp, she quickly dropped her voice to a low hiss. “Listen, Imperial. This isn’t exactly a favour, I will reward you. Assistors of the Thalmor get many perks, and my charity would be one of them.”

Maximus just raised an eyebrow. “Anya, you’d have to do a lot better than that. I’m not exactly hurting for Septims, I’m happy to say. There are plenty of other sellswords around who could help you, I’m sure.” He walked away before she could decide whether to get furious or humble. As he left the Dwemer palace, he was all too aware that he could’ve just committed a grave mistake. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been so agitated by Igmund, he would’ve been a little less sharp with Anya. He still would’ve refused her demand, but he might’ve done so in a way less likely to earn her ire.

In the end, she was still a Thalmor agent, and if she thought she could get away with it, she could accuse him of Talos worship. Then he, and everyone close to him, would be forced to go on the run for the rest of their days...To no avail, no doubt. He had heard the same horror stories that everyone else had. When the Thalmor wanted you, they’d find you, no alternatives. They were almost as good at tracking people down as the Dark Brotherhood, in all likelihood. Making an enemy of Anya would do him no good. Maximus only snapped out of his fuming when he heard Svetlana speak, causing him to perk up in surprise. He hadn’t realized it, so engrossed was he in his thoughts, but he had already marched his way into the city’s front square.

The Dunmer pickpocket and Svetlana both stood nearby, with an unidentified man close-by. All were looking at him, with Svetlana hurriedly waving him over. Maximus raised an eyebrow, wondering what the issue was as he made his way up to the group. Svetlana smiled, a little teasingly saying “This courier has a letter for you, Max. It’s from your parents, heh heh.” Maximus immediately glanced skyward. The courier passed Maximus a piece of parchment, but before he could leave, Maximus was already saying “Hold on there, friend. I’ll be responding to this one, so stick around. I’ll be right back.” The courier nodded and said something, but Maximus utterly ignored him, walking off towards the nearby general store.

Spending the few spare Septims he kept jingling in his armour, he bought a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick, then set about responding. The letter was, naturally, from his parents, who were yet again worried about him, and were upset over how he hadn’t at least sent word, like he had promised. The general store manager, a young Nord woman whose name Maximus didn’t care enough to remember, kept giving him the oddest glances as he wrote his response. At first, he thought she might’ve disapproved of his writing, and then he thought she might’ve found him attractive, but then he got a better look at the way her eyes roamed across him at a moment when she thought he was fully preoccupied. It was some kind of wanting, to be sure, but...It was simply bizarre. Maximus finished up his writing and left before the woman could stare at him any further.

Walking back outside, he subtly chucked aside the charcoal stick, wiping off the dark residue from his fingers over his armour. Folding up the message, he passed it to the courier, then paid him one or two dozen gold coins from Svetlana’s general supply pack. The man hurried off with the response, immediately jogging back out of the city. With that business out of the way, Svetlana finally asked Maximus the big question that had lingered on her mind, for some time. “So, how did the visit with the Jarl go? You’re not smiling, and you don’t have any more Septims, so...I’ll guess “bad,” this time.”

Maximus sighed, his brow beginning to sink in remembrance. Trying not to sound agitated, he said “He practically exploded. I can’t exactly blame the man for not paying me, we did end up failing the only real reason for the bounty, in the first place...I just had to stand there and listen to him rave like his wife had gotten somebody else’s bun in her oven.” The Dunmer’s brow twitched downwards in annoyance, and her eyes drifted off to the side. All that marching, that frantic running to Dragon Bridge, and all for nothing. Not exactly the best way to inspire loyalty in soldiers of fortune.

Svetlana sighed, irritably. One hand grabbing a hip, the other going to her forehead, she echoed the Dunmer’s thoughts. “So, that nonstop march for Dragon Bridge, all the fighting, it was pointless? Hrh...” Just before he yawned, Maximus flatly said “Hey, I didn’t like it, either. My legs are still on fire. I tried telling Igmund, how was I supposed to know that more work would come in so soon, or that we’d need to jump on it, right away? Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” “Doesn’t matter?” The Dunmer grumpily repeated, eyes darting over to his. Maximus simply gave her that smile of his, an eye narrowing smugly at her. “No, it doesn’t, because I had an idea. I was thinking about getting out of Markarth, for a while...Getting out of the Reach entirely, in fact. Just to spend a couple days somewhere else and clear my head. You two feel like spending coin in Solitude, or Falkreath?”

His two lady friends went bug-eyed, for a moment. Svetlana was the first to compose herself, quickly smiling and exclaiming “Are you serious? I’d love to go to Solitude! I haven’t been back there in years, and it’s so beautiful this time of year, too!” Maximus smiled at her enthusiasm. His eyes shifted to his pet dark elf. She averted her eyes, but didn’t turn her head from him. Slowly, with detectable and delectable reluctance, she mumbled “Well...I suppose I’d like to visit a clothing shop...I hear they have one, in Solitude...So, I guess I’ll come along, if you’re really serious about this.” Maximus gave a roguish chortle, his smile turning into a wide grin. “Good idea. Let’s go get Bunny, I get the feeling she’ll want to come along, too. If you two have anything lying around here, better grab it. We’re leaving now.”

The two looked at each other with a bit of surprise, but quickly followed after him when he started walking off. As she hefted up her pack of supplies, Svetlana hurriedly asked “But, Max, what about Sabrina? I mean, if you want to leave her behind, I’m not exactly going to protest, but...She’s useful, right?” Maximus ominously chuckled. His eyes started glinting sadistically. With a devil-may-care wave of his hand, he said “Oh, I somehow doubt that we’ll lose touch with Sabrina. She’ll figure things out.” The Dunmer looked over her shoulder, just before stepping through the city gates. Her eyes went up the main path of Markarth, roaming to Understone Keep. She kind of doubted Maximus’ sudden desire to leave the city was purely for a vacation, but she couldn’t imagine the Jarl being so upset that Maximus would feel safer outside the entire Hold. Just what kind of argument had gone on, up there?

Surprisingly, Bunny wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about leaving the Reach, even when Maximus assured her that the majority of people wouldn’t recognize her Forsworn clothing. When he mentioned that there was probably an alchemical shop in Solitude, and that he wouldn’t mind if Bunny spent her time alone trying out mixtures, he came close to convincing her. When he smiled suggestively and started looking her up and down, then mentioned that the trip would afford the group a lot of free time, her cheeks went a little red before she finally agreed. With everything settled, everyone found a carriage, and paid barely a handful of Septims for a trip to Solitude. Loading the few sacks of supplies and gold they had into the back of the horse-drawn cart, they were soon out on the road to Markarth, chatting about what they’d like to do once they reached their beautiful destination.

Unknown to them all, several figures knelt on a nearby hill, watching the cart from atop the miniature mountain. Even from that distance, they could recognize their targets. As the cart trudged along, the figures slipped away, heading off for their planned positions...
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The Forsworn Retribution