Earlier that morning...
"Hmph. Seems to be in order, but.." The blonde officer shuffled through the infirmary release papers and fit-for-duty reinstatement, squinting at the ink as if it would give way and reveal the truth. His men flanked either side of the road and kept a tight fix on Liudolf, sword-arms poised to split the air and draw his blood. A bowman, not too far back, notched a casual arrow and rested it at his side for a clear and accurate shot.
A decade or two ago, one might argue these men were being overtly paranoid and cautious, even for nords, to a kinsman who was laughably outnumbered no less. They might do well to remember the creatures that took travelers from roads and tore families from homes, all in darkness. Or the plague that rippled an agony through the lands, culling entire villages in a matter of days. Nor the Imperial bandits caught between, no hope of going home and no chance of settling peacefully this side of the border.
And now came the almost customary high summons, a call to all corners of the land for those wishing to help and get glorified along the way. Strangers, mercenaries, heroes; it never mattered. Liudolf knew these tales of victory well enough to know it was luck. With the odds stacked as they were, the night darker than ever, it was a bad time for that luck to run out.
The blonde officer shook his head and handed the papers back over. A soundless sigh as the group lowered their weapons and recognized a comrade. "I just don't see them letting you go in this condition, after what you'd been through. Let the mercenaries bloody themselves, I say. Take rest while--"
"Yea, and while I sleep, people are gonna stop dying, huh? Sickness is gonna just disappear in a puff of smoke, Night-Wolves too, right?" Liudolf glanced across at him, then around to each of the men. Most looked none too amused, though a few looked away, in shame or guilt he didn't really care. "
All due respect, I owe something to those men. Don't expect anyone to understand that, or help me pay it back. So long as you're not in my way. I have do this myself, and if I have to do it alongside sell-swords and cut-throats, so be it."
After a long breath, he shrugged and fished in one of his saddle-bags. "Alright, alright. It was worth a shot in any case. Here," He tossed a silver medallion over to Liudolf. "It's warded for disease, no harm in having it. Rorikstead is a couple hours behind us, but the group looked about ready to ride last I saw them. You might ask around, see which way they went and catch them before dark."
"Yea.. I'll find them. Won't be hard to spot, I imagine." Rolling the medallion over in his hand, a tinge of disbelief to his tone.
"Ride safe, hm? Night's coming faster than you think, and it's no place to get caught with your pants down. Take my word for it." Liudolf dryly jested, then shoved the medallion in his pack and stirred his horse into a brisk gallop for the distant village.
The officer shouted something after him, but by then, he'd already crested the hill.
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Karthwasten was the last place Liudolf expected to go. Not because it proved a troublesome post, or gave plenty trouble to those who'd taken post here before. No, he was simply surprised it was still standing after all this time. It'd always been in a tough spot, too deep in the Reach for support, just far enough to isolate it from patrols for days or weeks at a time. Now, with bandits, demons, and a plague, he was certain it'd be wiped off the map altogether, or converted to a rough hideout, a feeding den maybe.
Yet as he rode in, he realized that wasn't the case. The town was more alive than ever, as villagers flooded from the mines with what he assumed were mercenaries escorting them. Looks like he'd missed the rescue, but even still, it didn't seem like all the people were accounted for. He thought he saw another Stormcloak in the mix, but with the small crowd it was hard to be sure. Two of them, a Breton man and woman, stood at odds as the woman looked ready to blast the man's head from his shoulders. Even while her comrades, minus a Khajiit woman, seemed unbothered by the whole ordeal. The stranger didn't look especially dangerous, but that didn't mean he was harmless.
A lover's quarrel, he thought distastefully,
or some ole' fashioned paranoia? Unable to hide the irritation in his voice as he dismounted, Liudolf made himself known and attempted to disarm the situation.
"Guessing now's a bad time. Well.." He nodded to the breton man, going to shake his hand. Liudolf's cloak hid his hands well enough, so If the stranger tried anything, all it would take was a twitch in his finger to ensure fire was the last thing he saw. The same went for the others, once the villagers cleared.
"Name's Liudolf. So, you're not with them, hm? At least, as far as she cares."
He took a quick look between the three of them, and called out to the opposing breton.
"If you're gonna keep pointing it at me, you damn sure better not miss."
The more he watched her, how bothered and uncomfortable she was, the more he was convinced she was having an episode. This tended to happen, even to men under his own command. War had a nasty aftertaste, and in times as chaotic as this, it was no wonder that people would start to break down, lose their minds. All he questioned-- how did someone like her end up on a mission like this? Especially if she couldn't handle strangers. Blackmail?
After a tense silence, Liudolf decided she wasn't blasting anyone, and turned to the man once more.
"If you're not sticking around, better keep on your way. She's not your friend, but I doubt she'll shoot you in the back. You got a couple hours anyway before you're fumbling in the dark... Unless you need directions?" He could have assumed from the man's accent that he wasn't exactly a local. But surely, this whole mess wasn't caused over something so trivial, right?
