» Tue Jun 05, 2012 1:15 pm
Harold Thornsburg was a good man.
He stole sometimes, but he was a good man. Everyone he stole from, he always paid back ten-fold.
All those iron weapons he pilfered from Warmaiden's? He paid them back by dropping off two stacks of Dwarven Armor.
All those minor healing potions he swiped from Arcadia's Cauldron? Restocked her store full of elixirs he'd found in a dungeon two days later.
But there was one man who drove him off the edge. One man who Whiterun would not be seeing come daybreak tomorrow.
"Belethor," he brandished his sword, waiting by the house opposite to said merchant.
2 Weeks Earlier
"Isn't it nice to take a break?" Harold asked Lydia, as he walked briskly along the river than ran nearby Whiterun, "I've decided we're going to take a vacation - not a long one, mind you. I've got to get back to the Greybeards - shout training, of course. But I was thinking we could rent out a little room in Solitude."
"To do what?" Lydia was afraid to ask. She admitted Harold was rather attractive... But the fact remained: he was an old man.
"Nothing much," Harold replied, much to her relief, "I'll be sleeping in, mostly. Gotta rest the old bones. Here."
He tossed her a bag filled to the brim with coins. She gasped in surprise.
"1500 gold," he said casually, keeping his eye on the path, "Feel free to spend it. I'd suggest you save it for when we reach Solitude, though. I hear they have a wonderful clothing shop. Radiant Raiment was the name, I think."
"Stop right there," Harold looked up at the gruff man who'd interrupted him, "We're here to teach you a lesson."
"What?" Harold looked on, confused, then wheezed suddenly as he was hit, right in the chest, by a steel mace. He reeled back, stumbling to pick himself up. Lydia drew her sword and charged in.
"Agh!" he got up, unsheathing his Imperial-issue sword and sowing destruction in his wake. By the time it was over, his Imperial armor was distinctly more red than he remembered... He'd have to wash that later. Tullius would kill him if he saw his armor like that.
"Wonder who sent them..." Lydia mumbled, picked at the bodies. She spotted a contract note and picked it up...
Here is the agreed upon amount. I trust you to faithfully carry out my request to teach a lesson to the thief Harold Thornsburg. You need not kill him, but I have no qualms about it if you deem it necessary.
- Belethor
Present
"Evening, my friend," Belethor waved at Harold nonchalantly, as if he knew nothing, "I'm all ears. How's it going?"
Harold strolled up to him, a friendly grin on his face.
"I'm just fine, Belethor," he let the contract note, smeared in blood, slip out of his sleeve. Belethor grinned nervously.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll just be-- HUH!" Belethor wheezed as his chest spewed blood, "W-why?"
"You know full well why, you sick bastard," Harold yanked his crimson sword out and began walking away. A guard noticed the incident and ran up to him.
"I'm a Thane," Harold dismissed the guard, "Don't worry about it."
"Huh," the guard began walking away. He paused, deep in thought, then mumbled to no one in particular, "I used to be an adventurer like you..."
Fin.