[center][code]Five of One Thousand Steps: Loss[/code]
[sub]by [@Spoopy Scary] and [@Gcold][/sub][/center][hr][center][b]26th of Sun's Height, Morning[/b][/center][hr]

Sleep came to Wylendriel far easier than she had expected the previous night. She expected to be up all night wondering if she had made the right decision in joining these mercenaries. Wondering if in doing so, she had forsaken any of her values or if this new fork in the road would lead her down a path that would direct her away from her pilgrimage. After all, her soul was on the line. However, the day's events had taken more out of her than she had expected. She was whittled down from the long journey from Whiterun to Dawnstar, to the amount of magicka she has spent healing the argonian refugees and the mercenary Niernen, and speaking of whom, she only had enough energy to spare to report to Ashav before resigning to bed. In exchange for letting him know of Niernen's improved condition (and hopefully improved spirits), he let her know of her first assignment to Bleakrock Isle. It was east of Skyrim, nestled between the nord country and Morrowind. In other words, it was the front. The stories of the Kamal were just a boat ride away from being reality.

The day Wy had woken up from bed, refreshed and ready to go, she did her typical morning rituals: her prayers, for starters. Thanks to Kynareth for the beauty of life, and to Y'ffre for the privilege of breathing the air. Then maintaining her hygeine, consisting mostly of swishing a mixture of hot water and lots of salt in her mouth to both grind the plaque off her teeth and cleanse her mouth with the salt's antibacterial properties. Then she went downstairs of the inn so that she could eat. Sharp and aromatic goat cheese and similarly pungent smoked fish, along with a mug of water that was flavored with a dollop of honey - that was the best bang for her buck she could get out of the ten gold pieces she had left and Dawnstar's already paltry food shortage. Still, she wasn't picky and enjoyed the meal all the same after a brief prayer of thanks over her plate. Also, of course, after hesitating to grab the food with her bare hands before remembering what Skyrim classified as table manners. She picked up a fork and knife with some reluctance.

"It looks like those mercenaries are finally leaving Dawnstar for good!" One of the two nord women said at a nearby table. She was redheaded and freckled, and wore her hair in a long braid down the middle. The other was stark blonde and carried a little more weight. Wylendriel wasn't ordinarily the nosy sort, but with as little as she knew about the comings and goings in the Pale, she couldn't help but figure she could learn someting. She continued to eat, seemingly minding her own business. "It's about time if you ask me. I've nothing against them, but food around here is scarce enough as it is without them, thanks to the refugees. Again, nothing against them."

"Don't be so sure," said the blonde one, "just half of them are sailing off. Word is that some of them are staying behind to help investigate those murders."

The murders... Wy thought she had heard of them lately, they were one of the two jobs she could've been assigned to. It was disconcerting that she had just spent the night in a town that had a serial killer lurking in the shadows. It reminded her of that old giant, disrespecting the circle of life and profaning nature's bounty... it was for that reason that part of her felt somewhat responsible for taking care of the situation. If she were on that job, she could likely provide autopsies for the town guard, but for now it was out of her hands. 

"They are?" Replied the redhead. "Well, I guess it's for the best. Damn, it makes me nervous. I can't help wondering if I'm going to be next - or [i]you[/i]. They already found another one."

Either assignment were gruesome cases. On one hand, she could be sent to the front lines to patch up wounded soldiers with injuries as ghastly as she'd ever seen. On the other, the murder spree was getting highly out of hand. It targeted civilians and with there being only one enemy and a bunch of friendly faces, it became very personal. Any one of those faces, those friends and neighbors, could be the killer. What could be more nerve rattling that that? The priestess finishes her food and drink and stacked the mug on top of the plate got up to bring the dishes to the innkeper at the other side of the inn as a courtesy. The two nord women continued their gossiping.

"Did they?" The blonde gasped. "Who was it?"

"It was one of the argonian refugees. He was an older lizard... Climbs-From-River, I think."

The sound of a silver plate and pewter mug crashed together on the floor with a wooden thud, alarming a couple of the patrons including the two women. The innkeeper was visibly surprised, as his hand was already reached out to take them before they fell from Wylendriel's hands. She stared at the two women with her mouth agape and her eyes fixated on them. Her chest felt tight.

"W-what... what did you say?" Wylendriel asked.

The redheaded nord softly stammered, "Uh... an argonian refugee, Climbs-From-River. He died last night. Murdered, under the same MO as the other victims. Are you...?"

The woman hardly had the time to finish her sentence before Wy stormed out the front door in a furious march. Outside, her breathing was ragged, fast, and sharp. Nearly hyperventilating even, but her hands were tightly clenched, ignoring the stinging pain of her pointed nails digging into her palms. Her teeth - grinding together; her eyes - dilated, and although her heart was filled with sorrow and broken from grief, she felt consumed by rage. Her mind was a burning whirl of emotion, namely hatred and... offense? For whatever gods-forsaken reason, she felt [i]slighted[/i] and [i]stolen[/i] from.

[i]'How dare they?'[/i] She was thinking. Whoever had done this, awful, terrible act, she wanted to hurt them. Not even kill them, no, that felt too... [i]merciful.[/i] There had to be justice befitting of the Green Lady.

[i]'When I find them, I'm going to[/i] punish [i]them.'[/i]

It was only justified.

It also only took a minute for Wy to reach the large field tent in front of the docks where she first met Ashav. Unlike last time though, she abruptly ripped open the entrance that was uncharacteristic of her typical disposition and her face was flushed red.

"Ashav!" She barked.

The redguard was already gearing up in preparation for today's departure to Bleakrock and consulting with Edith about the state of their supplies when the company's newest hire entered. Though he winced at the ruckus being made so early in the morning, he still maintained the professionalism he exhibited when the priestess first met him.

Edith's hand flew to her sword as soon as Wylendriel walked. She stepped forward to intercept like a loyal housecarl protecting her thane. "It's alright, she is the chaplain I hired last night." Ashav calmly explained in a way that extruded easiness and authority the same time.

"It's [i]commander[/i] now." Ashav corrected the Bosmer sternly. There was something about what he said that stoked her ire, like as though he were exercsing his control. That must have been it, he was expecting her to answer to him now. It just made sense.

[i]"Ashav."[/i] Wy repeated. "Put me on the murder investigation."

"Why?" Ashav asked in a neutral tone, lacing his fingers together. The priestess was about to answer with outage on the tip of her tongue, but the simplicity of the question stopped her in her tracks for a moment. Why? She was forced to think for a moment, and for that moment, she was trepidatious. She was losing control of herself! The implications of her sudden breakdown agonized her, and though she still felt sorrowful over the death of her new friend, she was now forced to confront of herself and had to ask herself what she planned on doing - she had to seize back her control. While her rage had not entirely subsided, she managed to center herself a little and looked calmer than she did moments ago.

"...The last murder was of a friend." Wy admitted. She plucked the feather that was adorning her hair and held it gingerly in both hands. She continued to explain, "The Saxhleel pakseech, Tzinasha. I helped his people recover just before I entered Dawnstar. He was very kind to me."

"Sorry for your loss." Ashav's eyes softened for a moment, his fingers briefly unlaced. Then he was back to his typical stern self, however, his expression showed something empathetic on its blankness. "Let me tell you something Edith and I have learned on this job." He said in his raspy voice. "You can't go forward when you dwell on the past, and when you're stuck on your losses, you will easily lose yourself." Ashav glanced down to the table and then at Edith, who traded a worried look with him but ultimately nodded.

Wy dipped her head solemnly, as though in understanding of what Ashav was telling her, but something didn't feel right. She was absolutely distraught, just... perhaps not as much as she felt she should be. She felt angry, too, but she hid those feelings to instead convey an appearance of melancholy. Needless to say, it was in no small part to her grievous experiences that it came to her with little difficulty. She still felt she had a sense of justice guiding her hand, twisted though it may be, and she knew she would've chosen to stay in Dawnstar anyways. There was more on the line here than just revenge.

"Now, what can you do for the investigation?"

"I'm a priestess... commander." Wy replied simply. Her conduct seemed to have found its way back to her. "As a restoration expert, I can perform autopsies and find the cause of death, which'll give us a lead to further evidence. Also..." Wy cleared her throat and, after some hesitation, continued, "I understand that the front lines will need medics, but what good is fighting a war to protect civilians when the civilians are dying anyways? The guard doesn't have the situation under control. The sooner the situation is resolved, the smaller the death toll."

It was Edith who responded first. She coughed uncomfortably, her eyes darting between Ashav and the Bosmer as if alerting him to the very being of Wylendriel. Ashav picked her meaning and addressed it accordingly. "You are aware that the locals, Nords, are hesitant to let Bosmer access their honored dead. They have concerns of your dietary choices."

"Ashav, the ship..." Edith gently reminded him about briefing the Steelhead mercenaries, however, Ashav waved her down again.

"Dawnstar is the bastion of Stormcloak nationalism." Explained Ashav. "The people here hate foreigners; there were lynching, even against Nords, for simply speaking in favor of the Empire. Everybody is more on edge than ever, and many will see you as a cannibal instead of a priestess. I fear not only for your safety, but also disruption to the investigation process. If the authorities as much as see you look at a corpse funny, they will likely turn you into a convenient scapegoat."

"Ashav, we don't have time for this." Edith said more firmly this time.

"Please, sir." Wy pleaded.

"Fine, if you insist, priestess." The Redguard took out a sheet of paper and started writing on it. "I do owe you a favor for repairing my nose last night. With that said, you should keep your head above personal confrontations and act low-key when conflict arise from this investigation."

"Sign here." Ashav slowly inched the paper forward, giving Wylendriel her last chance to back out.

"Thank you commander." She muttered. She took a quill from Ashav and was about to sign her name in Bosmeri, but carefully considered what her commander had just told her of Dawnstar. It might be best to get into the habit of writing in Cyrodilic more often. As she wrote, she looked at Edith carefully from the corner of her eyes. As far as she was aware, the quartermaster was just trying to get in the way. Still, they had a point. Perhaps it was best to harken back to her first days in Skyrim and speak when spoken to - she wasn't in Whiterun anymore, after all. Though she had to wonder how much harder that must be than before. She wasn't cursed back then. She clutched her stomach with her spare hand.

"I'll make sure we settle these murders once and for all." Wy grimly promised. With that, she turned around and started heading back out the tent, but before she truly vanished from their sight, she turned around and peered in once more for a few parting words. "By the way... fixing your nose is what you pay me for, isn't it? You'll owe me once I give you an actual favor."