Chapter 240: Blood-Hounding
The look on Nenya's face when he'd dragged the prisoners before the Jarl was priceless. It was somewhere between confusion, surprise, and glee, though Michael couldn't nail what she was thinking to express such things.
Michael stood in front of the prisoners before the Jarl, he did have to suppress a chuckle from the Jarl's bruised and battered face. Seems like he'd lost the battle he'd picked at Lohir's funeral. "Jarl, I've completed my task and brought the bandits harassing your land." he diplomatically explains, stepping to the side to allow the Jarl a better look at them.
...
The Jarl stares at the bandit leaders face for a long moment until a look of recognition strikes him, "I remember you... You're that spineless disgraced son of Kells. What, did his death put enough fire in your belly to strike at me?"
The bandit leader spits on the floor at the Jarl's feet, his right eye swollen from Michael's earlier kick, "Fuck you and damn your Thalmor wench to Oblivion. I know it was you who had my father's crops poisoned! You always hated us, I promised myself I'd get revenge!"
...
Michael tilts his head to the side in annoyance as he watches this drama go on, he glances around the Longhouse and wonders why the Jarl didn't have a court mage like the other Jarls... Did he just not trust magic enough? Even if he was paying the one using it? Maybe Nenya also served that purpose? He wouldn't be surprised if most High Elves possessed an intricate knowledge of magic... They were racially attuned to it after all.
His attention is brought back when the Jarl slams his hand on his throne's armrest and stands, "I see no reason to hold any trial for savage dishonourable brigands! Nenya! Bring me my axe!"
The High Elf steward nods, leaving for a moment before returning again with a heavy-looking steel battleaxe. Dengeir doesn't waste any time and kicks the bandit leader over, one of his guards quickly shoving some wood under the man's neck to both protect the floor and the Jarl's axe.
"Damn you to Oblivion you damned-*CHATTCH!*
The axe drops on the man's neck, beheading him and embedding itself in the wood, forcing Dengeir to kick the wood off to free it. The other bandits beg for their lives, but it was their misfortune to be grouped with someone who was determined to piss the Jarl off. Their heads are removed as well, leaving a pile of bodies and a large puddle of blood just lying there.
Dengeir hands the axe back to Nenya and sits back at his throne, ignoring the gore before him. "Tekla! Have this scum removed from my presence!" he shouts, and an elderly woman runs in and starts dragging the bodies away, though, with much difficulty due to her frailty... No one cared enough to assist her however.
Valdr looks uncomfortable after witnessing this all, but Michael had seen worse. Done worse. The Jarl calls for him and he stands back in front of the throne, the edge of his boot getting licked by the large bloody puddle behind him.
"You've shown your worth, Michael. It seems that beasts are not the only thing you're good at hunting. Nenya, grant him his reward, he's removed a pest from Falkreath, for that he should be rewarded." he says, waving his hand dismissively before slouching back in his chair in the typical 'Jarl' manner.
Nenya nods and walks over with a box in her arms, opening it for Michael to see, allowing him to examine the reward they'd agreed on. There he was greeted with 650 Septims, not as much as you'd expect for eliminating a group of bandits, but it was far better than her initial offer...
The High Elf had initially wanted to pay him 250 Septims for the job, which had him laughing in her face in response. Bread cost 2-5 Septims each, getting someone to take you from Whiterun to Dawnstar was 50 Septims...
So, Nenya essentially wanted him to murder a group of dangerous warriors for around five coach rides... A regular warrior would need companions to complete such a task, so split those three or four ways, and you can see that the pay was piss poor. Only the truly stupid or demented would ever accept such low sums for such a task, especially one that you could potentially lose your life while doing.
It'd be like being sent to wipe out a violent gang for five taxi rides, nowhere near worth the time, effort, or risk.
He nods and takes the box, "Thank you. If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way, Jarl, Nenya." he says, offering them a slight bow and leaving.
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Dengeir watches as Michael and Valdr leave, sniffing once they were out of sight. "Hmph, maybe you were right. He seems talented enough, dealt with the task a day after he received it, with little to no injury.
Nenya nods with a small smile, "You're only saying that because he complimented you at Lohir's funeral. If the other Jarl's knew how easy you were to please, they'd pat you on the head in an attempt to be gifted Falkreath..."
"Watch your tongue, Nenya, I am still your Jarl. Even if you tend to forget it." he grouses light heartedly, not taking her mockery seriously.
She rolls her eyes, "Yes my enlightened Jarl... Shall I have another outstanding task assigned to him?" she asks after a moment.
Dengeir shakes his head, "Let the boy rest for now, we are not desperate enough to dump all of our problems on his shoulders as soon as he shows himself willing. Send notice to any of the other available bounty hunters, see if they want to try their luck against that damned dark mage."
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