[center] “A closed line is not open."-by Frandar Hunding[/center]

Quarivier wasted little time in calling the party together and passing around the letter that held their mission. Kiania had seen the letter detailing their objective before, but a refresher wouldn’t hurt. As the group slowly split off into individuals, Kiania waited a moment before doing the same herself. She calmly walked down the well-trodden path at a relatively slow pace, she even pulled her hood back, revealing he war paint tattoos and clearly marking her Yokudan heritage, her long braid swaying in the wind. Kiania decided the best route of action in entering Falkreath itself was not jumping over a wall, or sneaking in with a crowd. Her dark skin and armament made he stand out to much for her to keep hidden for long, so she opted to hide in plain sight as it were. 

As she neared the gates she even brazenly shifted her cloak so as to reveal her beautifully crafted swords strapped to her waist, her bow in its sheath on her back with her quiver of arrows attached to her right leg. It did not take long for the guards at the gate to spot her as she approached. One guard elbowing his companion to get his attention and point in her direction. She worried for a moment they might intervene and approach her, then one guard spat to his side before shaking his head. “As if Skyrim didn’t have enough problems without sell-swords from Hammerfell strutting about.”

Kiania hid her smile, deciding her disguise as a simple mercenary would work for now, after all she technically [i]was [/i] a sellsword, and they were hardly uncommon in Skyrim. Kiania took the time to fully take in the city as she passed through the gates, the guards begrudgingly allowing her entry without molestation. The city had a strange…air to it Kiania could not quit put a thumb on, like it was simply lifeless. The city lacked a market square as it would seem, leaving the largest flux of people to huddle around what Kiania would guess by experience to be a recruitment station, not to mention the sign was a dead giveaway. She made a bee-line for the booth, noting all the eager young nord men among the crowd. In her mind’s eye she mapped the position of every guard she had spotted, her warrior instincts allowing her to fully take in her surroundings without making it evident to those watching. 

It took a bit of waiting in line before her turn came next, the recruiter stood behind a wooden table of shorts; a few documents well organized were sorted atop the easily mobile piece of furniture. He was rather a surprisingly fat fellow, a large nose and big ears adorning a round head. He had beady eyes for a nord, his bread was cut low, give him the appearance of a cultured man. He looked Kiania up and down, the hint of a lewd smile on his lips as he said. “Welll, aren’t you sweet, you’ve got the wrong place honey, tavern wrenches sign up at the Dead Man's Drink down the roa-”

Before he hardly was able to finish the sentence, and quicker than the guard standing off to the booths left side could hope to react in time too, Coldfang sang as it swung through the air faster than the eye could follow. The fat man’s eyes bulged in their sockets as his heart skipped a beat, staring down at nearly 34 inches of cold Ra gada steel. 

“Show me yours tough guy, but I’m guessing mines bigger.” Her voice void of emotion, all the while the guard stood dumfounded at the sudden threat. The big man recovered quickly enough as he gulped down nervously. 

“I-I meant no disrespect of course,” He said while waving the guard away, who by now was readying to pull his sword free. Kiania eyed the man and gave the guard a side long glance before slowly placing Coldfang back in its sheath in a calm manner as if nothing had happened. A few others in the back were murmuring with some apparently impressed with the show of skill. The guard moved his hand back to his sides, but it was obvious he was on edge now. Which was fine for Kiania for now, a nervous man was a predictable one. One of Hundings many lessons. 

Rubbing his neck where her sword had just nicked him, the man continued. “Well, impressive, I take it you here to fight then?”
 
“Sure, if this is the place to go after the empire and the knife ears.” 

“This is the place, of that you can be certain of- so are your seeking to join as part of the Alessian forces?”

“That I am, why else would I be here,”

“Excellent, well then, standard fee is 500 septims a week, you get paid at the end of each week, if you die any companions you bring with you don’t collect your share, you must provide your own weapons and armor.” His eyes flicked to her scimitars at that before he continued, “Looks as if you have that covered, and no; this does not make you an official member of The Alessian Army. Not until you have served at least two months of faithful service.” 

Kiania fought off a sigh of frustration at that, but she did not expect to be welcomed into the fold so quickly. Even if she had she doubted the common foot solider would be privy to much information on The Alessian forces and their operations. Still this was a step in the door, which might at least get her close to people who did know the information she needed. The fat man began to ask her a few basic questions, in turn she offered him a false name and place of birth, and then was shepherd on her way. 

Heading to the barracks she was suddenly stopped by a call from someone, she turned around and was surprised to see a well-dressed older nord sporting the Alessian’s blood diamond and colors flagging her down. With a smile on his lips the man introduced himself. “Hello there, I see you’re another new recruit, and a redguard no less, I’m the Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn. Glad to see so many willing to remove the power of the old and dying Empire.” 

Kiania returned the friendly smile quickly enough, and even managed a half bow of respect. “Jarl Dengeir, an honor, and I thank you for the warm greeting; I only hope I can do my part. The Empires callous disregard and abandonment of Hammerfell must not go unpunished, nor the crime of the thalmor. I suspect with time more of my folk will follow my example.” She spoke with what she hoped was convincing conviction, it helped that she generally did hold a little resentment to the Empire and the Dominion. 

The act seemed enough to convince the Jarl however, as his suspicious look melted into another warm smile. “Ah, yes, it’s good to meet another kindred spirit who too has felt the harsh hand of the false Empire. But I must make my leave; perhaps we may continue this discussion later, at my longhouse perhaps? I’m hosting a small dinner of shorts as a kind of congratulation for those brave new recruits into the Alessian army.”

Kiania bowed again before responding. “Of course, I would be happy to attend.” 

Dengeir gave another eager congratulation before turning back to the recruitment center to do the same to another new recruit. Kiania turned and made to head to the barracks, glad she had obtained what seemed the perfect excuse for entering the Jarl’s longhouse later. If Tava continued to smile kindly, perhaps the rest of her group would meet equal or better luck. In fact a plan to further gain the Jarl’s good grace was forming in her mind even now…

For it to work however she was going to need the aid of one of the merfolk in her party, that is if she could find them.