I pushed open the inn's heavy wooden door, stepping into the low-lit warmth of the tavern. A smoky glow from the lanterns hung in the air, and a quiet buzz of morning chatter filtered across a few scattered tables. Despite the early hour, at least half a dozen locals had taken up seats, some with bowls of porridge, others nursing cups of ale, likely from the night before. And other just passed out.
When I walked in, a few heads turned, but nobody stared for long, travelers came and went often enough that another hooded figure wasn't too surprising. I made straight for the bar, where a short, middle-aged barkeep was wiping down a mug. He glanced up, eyeing me with polite curiosity.
"Morning, stranger," he said. "Looking for something?"
"Information," I replied evenly, resting my hands on the well-worn countertop. "A certain Altmer passed through here. Tall, pale hair, scar on his left cheek. Might've arrived yesterday or the day before."
He let out a slow breath, feigning uncertainty. "We get travelers all the time. Hard to keep track." His gaze flicked around then he gave me a pointed look, tapping the rim of the mug. "Memory can be slippery, you know."
I recognized the hint well enough. So I reached into a pocket, pulled out a 40 septims pieces, and slid them his way without a word. He inspected them for a moment, then pocketed them. His tone shifted from guarded to more helpful.
"Now that you mention it," the barkeep said, lowering his voice, "there was someone who fits that description. Came in yesterday morning, left before sundown. Real quiet, mostly kept to himself. Paid for a meal, then rode off in a hurry."
"Any idea where he was heading?"
He shrugged, picking at a scratch on the bar. "Didn't say. But he asked a few questions 'bout the roads west. Might've been planning to continue that way. One thing, though—he left in such a rush, he forgot a shirt. Housekeeping found it after he was gone."
"Can I have it?" I asked.
The barkeep squinted. "I suppose so. Don't see why not. It's just a plain linen shirt, though. Ain't worth much." He eyed me carefully, maybe wondering why I'd need a stranger's spare clothing. But after a moment, he shrugged.
"Give me a second." He ducked into a back room, leaving me waiting at the bar. A few of the other patrons gave me sidelong glances, but none seemed curious enough to approach. My hood must have done its job—nobody wanted to tangle with a mystery traveler at this hour.
Eventually, the barkeep returned, a wrinkled cream-colored shirt folded over one arm. He handed it across the bar. "Here you go. Like I said, it's nothing special."
I took the shirt, tucking it carefully under my cloak. "Thank you," I said quietly, giving him a nod of appreciation.
He scratched at a patch of stubble on his chin. "Just don't go bringing trouble back here. Last thing we need is more fighting in these parts."
Without waiting for further conversation, I turned and headed for the door. The morning sun met me full-on as I stepped outside, making me blink. A breeze was blowing down the single dirt lane of the settlement, carrying the scents of farmland and a faint whiff of woodsmoke. The villagers were more awake now, someone feeding chickens in the yard, a child chasing after a dog.
I made my way around the side of the inn, looking for spot Arindor and I agreed to meet. He hadn't specified exactly, but a small alleyway near the stables seemed likely. Sure enough, I found him leaning against a fencepost, arms crossed.
"Well?" he asked, standing upright.
"They saw him yesterday. He left in a rush." I pulled out the shirt, letting him glimpse it in the morning light. "He forgot this. I have a way to track him using it, but we shouldn't stick around here."
Arindor's eyes flicked between me and the fabric. I could sense the question on his tongue, how exactly did I plan to track someone with a shirt? But he just gave a slight nod. "All right. Then let's not waste time." He started to turn, then paused. "What do you need?"
"Distance from prying eyes," I said simply. "We'll ride out to a quieter spot, then I'll do what I have to do."
He didn't protest, though his posture was tense. Clearly, he wasn't thrilled about being left in the dark. Still, he gestured for me to follow him, and we made our way behind a row of small, dilapidated sheds at the edge of town. Our horses were stabled farther on, but we'd agreed not to draw attention by saddling up in broad daylight with everyone watching. We'd have to do it quickly and quietly.
Before we took another step, Arindor cast a last look over his shoulder. The settlement was fully awake now—voices carrying, someone opening shop for the day. He turned back to me, voice low. "If you think you can find him, then fine."
"All right, let's get our horses," I said. And so we moved to get our horses and left.
We rode out until the settlement was just a dot behind us, the morning sun climbing higher in the sky. Once we'd put enough distance between us and any curious eyes, I reined in my horse and motioned for Arindor to do the same. The landscape here was all rolling fields and a sparse line of scraggly trees, not much cover.
Arindor gave me a questioning look. "Why are we stopping?"
I slipped down from the saddle in one smooth motion, ignoring his question. Instead, I stroked my mare's neck and whispered a small thanks under my breath. A soft ripple shimmered in the air around us, and in a blink, my horse was gone. Only faint motes of light lingered for a second before they, too, faded.
The Altmer agent stiffened. "What in—" He stopped short. Clearly, he had no idea how I managed that trick, and he wasn't about to ask.
"I have my reasons," I said shortly, half an explanation. Then I pulled the rolled-up linen shirt from under my cloak. Closing my eyes for a moment, I felt the familiar tug in my mindscape. Then came the flash of red.
A second later, Mister Snuffles appeared with a soft pop of displaced air. A low, friendly rumble vibrated from his throat as he gazed at me with bright eyes.
My voice slipped into that silly tone. "There's my big fluffy boy," I cooed, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. "Yes, you are." Mister Snuffles pressed against me, his tail swishing back and forth, making the grass bend under its weight.
Arindor's horse let out a high, panicked whinny and danced sideways, ears pinned flat. Even Arindor himself looked set to bolt—his eyes went wide, and for a second I thought he was going to reach for a weapon. Instead, he tightened his grip on the reins, struggling to calm his mount.
"That thing—" he started, voice low and tense, "it's… Daedric?"
I shrugged, patting Snuffles's thick shoulder. I wasn't going to explain wargs or my bond with him. It wasn't worth the trouble. "He's just my baby. Relax."
Arindor didn't look convinced, but he held his tongue. His horse continued to snort and paw at the ground, giving us a wide berth.
"All right, boy," I said softly, holding out the wrinkled shirt. "Find the scent."
Snuffles sniffed the linen fabric with that broad, wet nose, then let out a low huff. His ears twitched in concentration as he shuffled forward, taking in the breeze. The next moment, he snorted again, almost as if to say, Got it.
I swung myself up onto the warg's back, hooking one knee over a ridge of fur that served as a natural seat. Mister Snuffles shifted his weight but stood steady, used to me by now. Then I glanced down at Arindor, who was still wrestling with his jittery horse.
"Let's move," I said. "He's got the target's smell. This is the fastest way to catch up."
The Altmer agent's shot another wary look at Snuffles's huge jaws, but he finally nodded, guiding his horse closer. The poor beast clearly hated being near my warg, but Arindor managed to keep it under control.
There was no need for further talk. I nudged Snuffles with my heel, and he surged forward with a powerful bound, nose to the ground as he followed the scent. He loped in a swift, smooth gait, easily matching a horse's canter. Grasses rustled in our wake, and dirt kicked up beneath his massive paws. Arindor came behind us, keeping a short distance—enough that his mount wouldn't lose its mind, but close enough not to fall behind.
I let the wind whip against my hood, the veil still shadowing my face. Inside, I was already weighing my next steps. Once we tracked down this rogue scholar, I'd do what needed to be done. And Arindor? He'd outlived his usefulness the moment we got what we came for. Better not to leave loose ends.
For now, I just focused on the rhythmic thud of the warg's paws, the rustle of the morning breeze, and the faint whiff of dust and wildflowers. We were on the hunt, and Mister Snuffles was more than ready to lead the way.
We traveled swiftly through the countryside, Snuffles tracking relentlessly, his powerful form moving effortlessly beneath me. Arindor followed at a cautious distance, silent except for the occasional muttered curses directed at his increasingly jittery mount. I didn't speak to him, preferring to keep the ride quiet and my thoughts focused ahead.
Hours turned into nearly a day, broken only by short rests to eat or water the horses. Snuffles remained tireless, his nose periodically dipping to the earth as he checked the scent trail, pausing only long enough to sniff the air, ears twitching at distant sounds. The further north we went, the more rugged the landscape grew—dense forests slowly giving way to steep foothills and jagged ridgelines.
By dusk of the second day, the terrain had become noticeably wilder. Sparse trees, rough brush, and stony ground marked our path. The temperature began dropping steadily as night approached, a reminder that Skyrim's border lay not far ahead. The sky dimmed to a deep blue-gray, stars beginning to wink awake, and the chill in the air made me grateful for my hooded cloak and the warmth of Snuffles beneath me.
Just as nightfall truly settled, Snuffles slowed to a cautious trot, his posture tense. Ahead, I glimpsed pale stones jutting from the hillside, half-hidden by gnarled branches and creeping vines. A faint, bluish glow emanated from gaps in the stonework, casting ghostly shadows on the ground. The unmistakable architecture of an Ayleid ruin rose silently in front of us, its once grand pillars cracked and eroded with age.
I guided Snuffles to a gentle halt, stroking his thick fur reassuringly. Arindor caught up a moment later, bringing his horse alongside cautiously.
"This is the place," I said quietly, keeping my voice low as I eyed the shadowed entrance. Snuffles shifted slightly, letting out a low rumble deep in his chest. He was alert but calm, focused on our goal.
Arindor nodded slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the ruin. "It fits his pattern. He'd pick somewhere remote. Easier to hide his work."
I gave a short nod, slipping carefully from Snuffles' broad back, boots landing softly in the dirt. I took a moment to scratch the warg affectionately, running my hand gently down his flank and underbellygiving him a belly scratch. Snuffles let out a pleased, deep-throated sound, pressing gently into my touch.
"We should move carefully," I said finally, turning away from Snuffles and glancing toward Arindor. "Our target will be inside, and gods only know what other surprises these ruins hold."
Without another word, we cautiously moved forward, the dark silhouette of the ancient Ayleid structure looming ahead, beckoning us toward whatever secrets lay hidden within.
[okay ladys, gentlemen and eldergods. This story orginaly was made to dive into kinks, so i plan to do just that. fun smut while also keeping things within a fun story. debating about making a off book that has the taboo stuff on it or should i just make a chapter warning?]