On the Whiterun Plains, heading West. The morning after the wedding.

"How far to Rorikstead?" Jordis asked, as they passed yet another giant's camp.

"According to my map, we should be nearly there," Alarik said, "it's just over this hill."

The pair of them half-jogged up the hill as they were keen to see if Rorikstead was indeed at the bottom. Sure enough, when they reached the top of the hill, they found themselves looking down on a quaint little village, consisting of a few houses and villagers walking around and working in the farms.

"Well, it looks pleasant enough," Jordis asked, "are you sure he lives here?"

Alarik looked at Jordis.

"Murderers aren't all bandit chiefs, mercenaries, or members of the Imperial Legion," he said, "many of them tried to get on with their lives after what they did. Not that that's an excuse – they carried out a massacre and need to face retribution.

"Now, my darling wife," Alarik held out his hand to Jordis, who took it, "If you'll follow me, we'll head to the tavern first. In a place this small, the innkeeper is bound to know the whereabouts of everyone. And besides, I'm thirsty."

They walked down the hill towards Rorikstead and went straight to the tavern. Alarik opened the door to the Frostfruit Inn and went inside, Jordis close behind. The tavern was full with people, drinking, eating, talking and laughing. The place truly seemed like the hub of the community. They noticed that the bartender seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with somebody else so they sat down by the fire and waited. As they waited, a young Nord man with bright red hair sat down in a chair next to Alarik.

"Excuse me, I hope you don't mind me talking to you, but are you two adventurers?" He asked, his eyes wide open. Alarik nodded.

"Oh, then please, allow me to get you both a drink? Mead okay?" Erik asked. Not waiting for their response, he got up and went behind the bar. He pulled out two bottles of mead, uncorked them and gave one to Alarik and one to Jordis. Alarik looked dumbfounded at the fact that this man had just gone behind the counter and taken two bottles of mead without the barkeep saying anything.

"How did you do that?" He asked Erik.

"Do what?" Erik replied.

"Take two bottles of mead, just like that?"

"I work here," Erik said bluntly, "my dad, Mralki, he's the publican. I'm working here – until I earn enough money to buy my own sword and armour and become an adventurer like you two!" He smiled, and motioned for them to drink up.

"Um, dear, can I have a word, please?" Jordis said. Alarik nodded. "Excuse us," Jordis said to Erik.

Outside the tavern, Jordis rounded on Alarik.

"Mralki – his dad! That's the name on the list!" Jordis whispered, "He must be the one behind the bar. We could do it now – be in and out, just like that!"

"Or," Alarik said slowly, "we could wait till night time. When nobody else is around and we wouldn't have to face a small army. Come on, let's go back in – I am not giving up free drinks."

They went back inside the tavern and saw Mralki talking to Erik. When he heard the door open, Mralki turned round to face Alarik and Jordis.

"Ah, there you two are. I saw you talking to my boy Erik and then you left – wasn't because of him, was it?"

"No, no," Jordis quickly replied, "on the contrary, we were just about to start talking to your son about the adventures we've had across Skyrim."

Mralki rolled his eyes.

"Has my boy been telling you about his quest to become an adventurer? I keep telling him, 'the world is a dangerous place'. I'm an ex-Legionnaire, see-" Alarik physically felt Jordis' hand tighten round his own at that point, "and I've seen the worst that Tamriel has to offer. I try to protect him but it seems like he doesn't want it. Please, sit back down – I'll not disturb you."

"Actually," Alarik asked, "before you go – could we rent a room for the night? We've been travelling a long way and we need somewhere to rest before we collapse with sheer exhaustion."

"Of course sir!" Mralki grinned, "if you leave 10 Septims on the counter, you can have the room on the right."

"Thank you!" Alarik called out, before he and Jordis sat back down. They talked well into the evening about dragons they had killed and bandit hordes they had defeated. They were careful, however, to omit anything about the real reason they were in Rorikstead, so as not to alert Mralki, who from time to time would wonder in or even listen to a story.

After several hours of this, the once-roaring fire had burnt down to a crisp and the only people left in the tavern were Erik, Mralki, Jordis and Alarik. It was dark outside and Alarik yawned.

"I think we've told enough stories," Jordis said, pointing out Alarik's yawn to Erik and laughing, "we'd best go to bed. Good night Erik, Mralki."

"Have a good night!"

"Sleep well!"

The well-meaning shouts from Erik and Mralki followed Jordis and Alarik into their room, where they shut the door. Immediately Alarik sat in the chair and Jordis knelt by the door. She found a small crack in the wood that allowed her to spy on what was going on in the main taproom.

"What can you see?" Alarik asked her.

"Erik is getting up... he's speaking to his father... sounds like they're having an argument... Erik's jabbing his finger... it's probably about not letting him be an adventurer... Now he's going into his room... and he's slammed the door."

"Give it an hour, to make sure he's truly asleep, then we can go in and take care of Mralki."

They stayed in the room for an hour, Alarik reading a book he had found on the table and Jordis sharpening her sword with a whetstone. After an hour, Alarik stood up.

"Quick and clean," he said to Jordis, "I'll watch the main door."

Jordis nodded and opened the door into the taproom. Mralki was tending to the fire in the middle of the room, stacking up more logs and poking the embers. Jordis crept up behind him and stabbed him through the neck with her sword. He gurgled slightly and blood exploded out his neck before Jordis lifted her sword up and Mralki slid off the end, hitting the stone floor with a thud. He didn't get up.

Suddenly a door opened in the corner of the tavern and a young Nord man with bright red hair stepped out.

"Father, I've been thinking and I'm sorry that..." his voice trailed off as he realised his father was not behind the counter where he usually was. He looked round the taproom and finally his eyes rested on Mralki's body on the floor, still pumping blood.

"Father," he whispered. He started to walk over to his father's corpse, but Jordis swung her still-bloody sword right at him.

"Stay back," she warned, "or you'll end up on the floor as well." She started cautiously stepping towards the door out of the inn, Alarik following behind, his sword drawn too.

"Your father was right, Erik," Alarik said, just before he opened the door outside, sword still pointing at Erik, "the world is a dangerous place."

With that, he stepped outside and he and Jordis began to run south, towards Falkreath.