- Middas, 19th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201
As I lie exhausted atop this fur-strewn bed in The Bee and Barb, the inn in the city of Riften, I cannot help but wonder where the Fugitive is. I know he is here in the city, I watched him stroll straight through the front gates! But the guards did not stop him to collect the "Visitor's Tax" they forced me to pay!
A lot has happened since I left the Sleeping Giant Inn Tirdas morning. I bid farewell to Delphine, hoping our paths would cross again someday, then set out for Windhelm. I followed the White Road east for about an hour or so, dispatching packs of mangy Wolves and gruesome Skeevers as I went.
As I approached the vast, snowy city with its enormous walls, protecting its inhabitants from the dangers of Skyrim, I could not help but notice the movement and commotion on the bridge connecting the front gates of Windhelm to the rest of Eastmarch. A closer inspection revealed a plethora of guards chasing a single man.
From his height, I could tell he was a Nord. Most Nords I had seen in Skyrim were muscular and light-haired, but he was quite scrawny and dark-headed. I could tell he was not one for swinging swords, indicated by the bow strapped to his back and the blade absent from his hip. His armor was rather nice as well. He sported a sleek light-gray leather cuirass with various bags and pouches strapped to it, a pair of greaves just darker than his cuirass, leather bracers on each wrist, and a duo of dark leather boots drenched in snow.
As the Fugitive made it to the end of the bridge, the guards gave up their hopeless pursuit. When he bolted past me, I felt some kind of push... a spiritual push drawing me towards him. I allowed him to get a good ways away, then began the chase.
With butterflies bubbling around in my stomach, I watched him from behind a snow-engulfed rock as his desperate sprint turned into an anxious, fast-paced walk, then to an exhausted stroll. I used the various boulders and foliage of Eastmarch to remain undetected and unseen. For what seemed to be hours, I crept from tree to stone, stone to bush, bush to tree as I shadowed the Fugitive. Finally, in the dead of night, he arrived at his destination. The town of Riften.
After he pushed through the light-wooden gates of the city, I casually followed his footsteps not to arouse suspicion. I had almost made it into the town when a rough hand met my shoulder and a Nordic voice commanded me to pay the "Visitor's Tax" or forfeit the right to enter the city.
As anger and desperation arose from within, I fished one-hundred Septims from my coin purse, completely aware I was being robbed by the corrupt guard. After the transaction was complete, I hastily entered the city, scanning the vicinity for the Fugitive. Alas, it was no use. It was too dark and I had given him plenty of time to slip away. I let out a sigh of disappointment and dragged my feet towards what looked to be the inn.
I am not quite sure where to begin searching, but I must find the Fugitive. I truly feel as if I have no other purpose... no other reason to keep going except finding him and getting some answers. I suppose I will simply ask around. I really have no other choice. Perhaps I will make a quick sketch of him in case I forget his appearance.
