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The Boy in the Ragged Robes - pt. 3I had thoughtfully recovered the two halves of my broken lockpick and pieced them together with a bit of thread that I had plucked off the rim of my night shirt - but I realized that trying my luck with this pathetic little contraption would be rather risky. What if the thread was not enough to keep it intact? I definitely could not afford to let that happen.The Boy in the Ragged Robes - pt. 3 by NorroenDyrd
After twirling the pick in my hands a few times as I lay awake in bed, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps there could be a potion that would increase my chance of prying the lock open. At least, I vaguely recollected reading something of the sort in an adventure book, before it was confiscated by Father for being 'uneducational'. Which made me quite upset, incidentally; especially since Hallacar's books always seemed to miraculously escape each and every one of Father's raids on our bedrooms - and they had pictures in them; pictures of Dark Elven women who, judging by the way my brother slapped his hand over them when I tried
The Boy in the Ragged Robes - pt. 2It was my first ever attempt at blackmail, and I felt terrible, taking advantage of the old Khajiit's guilty secret and fear of being discovered.The Boy in the Ragged Robes - pt. 2 by NorroenDyrd
I had bumped into him by sheer accident – though, come to think of it, so many things have been happening to me by sheer accident ever since I was small that I am beginning to wonder whether they really are accidental.
It had happened while I was stumbling along some dimly lit corridor, in the dead of night, woken yet again by the haunting vision of my mother and seeking out my father or Ondolemar, longing for the reserved, almost reluctant comfort they would give me at times like this. Even Hallie’s snarling, contemptuous, ‘Stop being a sissy already!’ would have been better than nothing – because it was always followed by a furtive, reluctant one-armed hug, which made me wonder if, for all his deliberate rudeness, Hallacar missed our mother too.
But instead of my father or brothers, I had ended up crossing path
The Boy in the Ragged Robes - pt. 1'You aren't with the Thalmor Embassy, are you? No, it can't be right...'The Boy in the Ragged Robes - pt. 1 by NorroenDyrd
The Imperial soldier falters, his eyes darting from the record book in his hand to my face and back again, as if he is hoping that this list of his will give him some sort of answer as to why I lack the obligatory sleek, arrogant look of my kind.
I give him a reassuring smile.
'Oh no, sir, I am not with the Embassy. Far from it. You can be sure of that'.
The captain, a stern-faced woman looming over the soldier’s shoulder like a judgmental shadow, glares at me. I wonder vaguely if this is the same look she gives her children when they are misbehaving at dinnertime – say, picking out those icky, soggy greens and hurling them at one another, they way my brothers and I used to do when we were little...
'Speak only when you are spoken to, prisoner!'
The soldier makes a quiet sort of sheepish, apologetic sound - he must be afraid that his superior's attitude is not doing a lot of good to the image of the Em