- Sundas, 16th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201
I stored my beautifully-crafted bow, a quiver of nine Dwarven and seventeen steel arrows, and both mine and Faendal's daggers in a wooden chest in my temporary room in Dead Man's Drink. A strong feeling of guilt came across me as I blatantly lied to Valga, telling her I was heading out for a midnight stroll. The guilt was accompanied by fear and anxiousness as I made my way through the crowd of people toasting around Valga's fire and out onto the porch.
Drop after drop, the rain plummeted from above. Few stars were visible under the thick blanket of clouds stretched across the sky. Propped against the wooden walls of Dead Man's Drink, I scouted the barren, drenched street. The precipitation made it difficult to see even a few paces ahead of me, but the guards carried torches to assist their vision, making it much easier for me to survey their patrol patterns. One guard walked a short route from the front door of Jarl Siddgeir's longhouse to the guard's barracks, while another went back and forth between Dead Man's Drink and Falkreath's massive cemetery.
When both guards had their backs turned, I crept over to Lod's front door and retrieved a single lockpick from my satchel. I knew I had to make it quick for if I was even somewhat spotted by a guard, they would be forced to investigate. Luckily, Lod had not invested in a good-quality lock and I bypassed his without much hassle. As the adrenaline pumped through my body at uncanny speeds, I took a quick look around to check the guards' positions. The coast was clear. I infiltrated his home silently, double-checking to make sure the door was sealed shut.
The interior of his small, wooden home was quaint and cozy. The heads of a pair of unfortunate elk were mounted in his house. One over a stone fireplace covered in pots and pans of various sizes and another over Lod's bed, which he snoozed soundly in. After a bit of searching, I found a small piece of parchment laying precariously on an end table next to Lod's bed. I snagged the note and slipped out of his home and into the cool, windswept night. I was overjoyed at the fact that no one besides Valga had even noticed my absence. I treated myself to a cool ale, then returned to my bed where spent the rest of the night in an unhealthy state of paranoia.
I felt as if every eye in Falkreath was on me and I walked the cobblestone path to Dengeir's home this morning. The letter laid in my satchel accompanied by a few dead flowers and a handful of fungi. After a few knocks to his front door, he arrived and ushered me inside.
The meeting was rather brief. He offered no ale, or any refreshment for that matter. He went on no rants or raves expressing his hatred for the Empire. Instead, he merely scanned the letter and gave a disappointed grunt, then handed it back to me. He assured me he would speak of me highly to Siddgeir, then hurried me out of his home.
I cannot help but wonder whether he will actually do it or not, but to be quite honest, that is not my largest concern right now. I am waiting for the moment Falkreath's Captain of the Guard breaks down the door of Dead Man's Drink to arrest me. After all, I have this blasted note sitting right in front with no where to conceal it. I would be caught red-handed. Perhaps it would be in my best interest to leave town until I can return it Lod's tonight.
