In Love and War

Chapter Four: Mara's Eyes

Leaving the gates of Windhelm in Stormcloak armor brought me more respect than I realized. Even in a city were the rebels were a common sight, the people treated them like heroes. I was mistaken by nearly everyone as a full-fledged Stormcloak, not that I was going to complain. I was awarded endearing glances and praises by passersby. While I wanted to believe differently, I doubted the people would treat me to those affections if I remained in my Penitus Oculatus uniform. Even if I had the best intentions, my armor choice would affect how they saw me.

As I walked the short distance across the bridge to the stable, I took one of the red vials of liquid that Ulfric's court wizard had given me. Since I didn't follow his directions and drink them the night before, my entire right side was stiff and sore. The blistering and bleeding had stopped thanks to his salve, but I still regretted not downing at least one bottle of potion. I reasoned later was better than never though and uncorked the vial.

The sweet and sour scents of Blue Mountain Flower and Blisterwort drifted from the glass top as I brought the vial to my lips. I downed the potion in a single gulp, frowning faintly at the unpleasant taste. While the liquid hinted at an alcoholic flavor due to the wheat, the mushroom was far too pungent for my liking. I did, however, feel the aches in my limbs begin to ease as the liquid reached my stomach. I corked the bottle again, putting it back in the pouch. I still had another to drink, but I wanted to give the first enough time to begin working.

I approached the stable, looking around for Galmar. To my surprise, he wasn't there yet. It made me question whether I was late. He said sunrise, I was certain, but he could have left earlier. I definitely wouldn't have put it past him. I looked at the eastern sky, making out the faint rays of Mundus through the snow flurries. It was still early, so I would give the Nord the benefit of the doubt.

I decided to take a seat in front of one of the stable doors to wait for the man to reveal himself. From the amount of snow that covered the ground and the amount still falling, concluded the storm that came in the night before had been massive. The only visible footsteps in the banks were the ones I had made, and the lanterns that lit up the path previously had been blown out. There was no sign of any animal, save for the horses, and the only sound was of the whistling wind in the tall trees. The river itself seemed to be frozen over in the wake of the storm.

The only reason I wasn't chattering at that moment was because of the Stormcloak armor. The Nords sure knew how to make warm clothing. The thick leathers were insulated with cozy furs. Even the boots and gloves somehow managed to hold in warmth without being too bulky.  I rightly reasoned that if I had stayed out in the storm in my personal armor, I would have frozen to death. I was extremely grateful for the Jarl's compassion.

I felt a warm puff of air on my neck and looked over my shoulder. A smile crossed my lips as I stared up at a ruddy brown muzzle. The horse, enormous in size, leaned far over its stall door to sniff at my hair and helmet. I lifted a hand to rub its nose and coo softly, "You're a big one, aren't you?" The only form of reply came as a snort from his nose, his breath freezing in the small space between us. I rose to my feet, patting the creature's cheek. "What's your name? Hmm?"

"Glaer," a smooth voice called from nearby. I turned to look for its source, smiling slightly as I saw an elf approach. The woman, an Altmer, walked over from the house that stayed beside the stable. "His name is Glaer. He's probably the only horse we have that isn't completely boring."

I laughed lightly. "Is that so?"

She nodded, propped a hand on her hip as she looked the animal over. "He's an escape artist. You'd never know from his size, but he's slipped out of every pen we keep him in." She tutted. "We have to keep his gate locked because he's figured out how to open the handle."