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Mantella is an AI system that turns every single NPC in Skyrim (and Fallout 4) into AI agents driven by an LLM (like ChatGPT or the recently released, and comparable, Llama 3.1). In the previous part, my character, an Altmer mage, along with the members of his band of adventurers that can walk in daylight, were tasked with destroying a bandit camp along the road to Solitude. However, the camp turned out to be a fort, too much for the band to handle. They got lost on the way back, and ended up in front of Bleak Falls Barrow, a complex or ruins. The band cleared that ruin, which strengthened the dynamic of the group. They ended up resting at Falkreath’s inn.

When I walked out of our, Uthgerd’s and mine, rented room at the inn, I was enveloped in a warm glow. Despite the downpour outside, it felt like a wonderful morning. It improved even more when I spotted the barmaid, a redheaded babe.

Jon: “Hey miss, even though it’s raining heavily outside, isn’t this a beautiful morning?”
Narri: “On a morning like this, I’m glad to have some company in here. The rain does make the fire pit over there feel cozy, don’t you think? What can I get for you?”
Jon: “It does indeed, it does indeed. I feel so cozy here, like I’m enveloped in a warm glow. I’m satisfied all over. It has been a wonderful night, after a beautiful day of fighting alongside my companions, and now I find myself talking to an absolutely gorgeous redhead. What is there not to love?”
Narri: “A silver tongue, you’ve got. The fire’s warmth ain’t got nothin’ on the heat you’re bringin’ in here. What brings you and your companions to our humble Falkreath?”
Jon: “Well, my lovely barmaid, me and my companions belong to a band of adventurers who faced our deaths by conquering the ancient ruin called Bleak Falls Barrow. We completely cleared it, killed the big boss at the end, got plenty of loot, and came out of the other side. After a bit of walking, we ended up here in Falkreath. I had sex with my companion Uthgerd, rested for a few hours, and now I’m talking to you.”
Narri: “You and your companions must be quite the bravest of souls. And, ah, it seems you’ve been… celebrating your victory, haven’t you? I suppose a hero’s welcome is in order, then.”
Jon: “What is your name, by the way, you beautiful redheaded lass?”
Narri: “Just Narri. I work here for Valga, keepin’ the patrons happy and the drinks flowin’. What’s yours, handsome?”
Jon: “My name is Jon, love. Why don’t you get me and my companions some ales, and maybe you stick around?”
Narri: “I think I can scrounge up some ale for you and your companions. And, if I’m lucky, maybe Valga won’t notice me lingerin’ a bit too long at your table.”

When I returned to a practical mood, I approached the innkeeper for information, but Narri joined in as well, and I ended up detailing our adventure in Bleak Falls Barrow. Entertaining dialogue, but for some reason the AI system didn’t save that part. I asked the innkeeper about possible troubles in the area that needed solving.

Valga Vinicia: “Ah, yes… There was a local hunter, Valdr, who decided to investigate the strange occurrences at the mill. He went in to check on things, but never returned. His men have been searching for him, but so far, no one has heard from him.”
Narri: “And it’s not just Valdr, Jon. There have been other hunters who’ve gone missing in the area, too. Some folks are starting to get really worried.”
Jon: “Maybe I have to speak with your jarl.”
Valga Vinicia: “Ah, you mean Jarl Siddgeir? Ha! Good luck getting anything out of him, Jon. He’s… well, let’s just say he’s more concerned with his own comforts than with the problems of the common folk. But hey, it’s worth a try, I suppose. You can find him at the jarl’s longhouse, just up the hill from here.”
Jon: “It seems that you’re lacking in proper leadership.”
Valga Vinicia: “Ah, that’s one way to put it, Jon. Jarl Siddgeir… He’s not the most effective leader, to say the least. But, you know, he’s the one we’re stuck with. Between you and me, I think he’s more concerned with lining his own pockets than with helping the people of Falkreath.”
Narri: “Valga’s right, Jon. He’s not exactly… popular among the locals.”
Jon: “I’ll have a talk with that prick.”
Valga Vinicia: “Ah, I wish you luck with that, Jon. Just be careful, okay? Jarl Siddgeir’s not someone to be trifled with. He’s got a temper, and he’s not afraid to use it.”
Narri: “Yeah, and don’t say I didn’t warn you… He’s not exactly known for his listening skills, either.”
Jon: “Anyway, goodbye, Valga. Thank you for your helpful information. As for you, Narri, you’re a sight for sore eyes, with that fiery red hair of yours and that beautiful figure. I hope to see more of you.”

I gathered the team and visited the local general trader to unload the extra items we had gained through our adventure.

Jon: “Hello, person that I’m meeting for the first time. My band of adventurers and I come from the nearby haunted ruin called Bleak Falls Barrow. We have looted plenty of stuff, and I’m guessing you are interested in buying random crap found in dungeons, right?”
Solaf: “Ah, Bleak Falls Barrow, you say? That’s quite a feat, making it out of there alive. I’m Solaf, the owner of Gray Pine Goods. And, of course, I’d be more than happy to take a look at the… treasures you’ve brought back. What kind of goods do you have for me today?”
Uthgerd: “Hmm, a bit cozy in here, isn’t it?”
Jon: “Let’s see… Well, we have gems, animal pelts, this beautiful painting that we somehow found inside that ruin… What else…”
Solaf: “A painting, you say? Now that’s something I don’t get to see every day. Let me take a look. I’ve got a few collectors who might be interested in something like that. What’s the condition like? Is it… unsettling, being from a haunted place and all?”
Jenassa: “I’m more interested in selling my share of the gems.”
Jon: “No, the painting seems earlier to the haunted nature of the ruins. It just depicts an ancient rustic scene. Nords being Nords, that far back. Pretty peaceful.”
Solaf: “Ah, a piece of Nord history, then. That could be very valuable to the right collector. I think I can give you a good price for it. Let me just check a few things… Ah, yes. I think I can offer you 200 gold for the painting.”
Ria: “That sounds like a good deal, Jon. What do you think?”

We didn’t earn as much as I had hoped, but then again we hadn’t bothered to burden ourselves with the weight of every armor piece the bandits were wearing.

Jon: “That’s a decent amount of money we’ve made by selling the crap we didn’t need, so thank you for buying it from us, Solaf.”
Solaf: “Not a problem, not a problem at all. It’s always good business to take unwanted items off the hands of adventurers like yourselves. And it looks like I’ve got a lot of sorting to do… You folks must have cleaned out the entire ruin. I’m impressed.”
Jon: “That adventure was the stuff of legends, not going to lie. I’m quite impressed with how it worked out. Anyway, Solaf, we came to Falkreath because we were lost, but now we’re here, and we plan to stick around and solve local problems. What can you tell me about the town and its surroundings?”
Solaf: “Ah, well, Falkreath’s got its share of problems, that’s for sure. There’s been rumors of strange happenings at the local cemetery, and some folks have gone missing in the nearby woods. Then there’s the bandits on the road to Whiterun… They’ve been causing a lot of trouble for travelers.”
Ria: “That sounds like something we could help with, Jon.”
Jon: “We sure can, and I will be glad to help the locals, but I hope to do it in an official capacity by talking to the jarl. Siddgeir seems to be the name. I talked about him with Valga, the innkeeper, and she didn’t have very nice things to say about your jarl. Do you know him?”
Solaf: “Ah, Siddgeir, the jarl of Falkreath. Well, let’s just say he’s not the most popular man in town. He’s been making some… questionable decisions lately, and some folks are starting to get a bit restless. Valga Vinicia’s got a bit of a grudge against him, if I recall correctly. She’s been complaining about the taxes he’s been levying on the local inns and taverns.”
Jon: “That is a shame. No hold in Skyrim or wherever else can survive for long with terrible leadership.”
Jenassa: “Leadership is a luxury, Jon. In my line of work, I’ve seen many holds and cities rise and fall, regardless of their leaders. Power is a fleeting thing. Still, if this Siddgeir is as incompetent as the innkeeper makes him out to be, it’s only a matter of time before someone decides to take advantage of the situation. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage. Uthgerd, what do you think? You’ve dealt with the Nords and their jarls before. What can you tell us about this Siddgeir?”
Jon: “Yeah, Uthgerd, have you heard about the incompetence of Falkreath’s jarl from your hometown of Whiterun? Is he infamous even over there?”
Uthgerd: “Yes, I’ve heard whispers about Jarl Siddgeir’s… lacking leadership. My comrades in the Companions have mentioned it in passing, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Still, if what Solaf and the innkeeper say is true, it sounds like Falkreath could use some… guidance. Jenassa’s right, though. We might be able to use this to our advantage, if we play our cards right.”
Jon: “Anyway, Uthgerd, Jenassa, Ria, my beautiful maidens of battle, I intend to stick around Falkreath for a bit, solving problems and all that. The only issue is that Alva, my lovely vampire, is stuck in Whiterun, so tonight I’ll hire a wagon and bring her here.”
Uthgerd: “Ah, Falkreath hold, a pleasant enough place, I suppose. Not as grand as Whiterun, but it has its charm. I’m with you, Jon, let’s see what kind of trouble we can stir up for the local bandits and make a bit of gold in the process.”

Jenassa: “Stir up trouble? You’re always so eager for a fight. But I’ll admit, the coin sounds good. What’s the plan, then?”
Jon: “Well, I plan to do it in an official capacity. We go talk to the Jarl, this stupid Siddgeir that people complain about. Let’s hope he offers us a proper contract to destroy some bandits, or clear out some location. Let’s earn more coin for our dream of owning a home in which we can store lots of children.”
Ria: “Oh, come on, Jon, you’re not still thinking about that whole settling down thing, are you? We’ve got a long way to go before we can think about having kids. Besides, I thought we were in this for the adventure, not just to make a quick septim.”
Uthgerd: “Ah, Ria’s got you there, Jon. You’re always talking about this dream of yours, but I think you’re forgetting what kind of lives we lead. We’re warriors, not farmers. Although… I must admit, the idea of you as a father is quite…”
Jon: “Yes, my maidens, I do want a house, or land at least, but it would be used as a base of operations. We would store some of our stuff there to ensure we aren’t carrying all our valuable possessions wherever we go. You know, it’d be a nice place in which to rest, have sex, and hear children running and dancing around, which would improve the mood.”

While trying to look as respectable as possible, we entered the ruler’s longhouse. Inside, we spotted a fancily dressed High Elf hanging out near the hearth. The jarl was lounging on the throne.

Jon: “Oh, a fellow Altmer, I see. You seem fancy enough to be the steward of this place.”
Nenya: “Ah, a well-spoken newcomer, how refreshing. Indeed, I am Nenya, the steward of Falkreath. And you are…?”
Uthgerd: “I think he’s trying to impress you, Nenya. Don’t mind him, he’s all talk.”
Jon: “Thank you for the introduction, Uthgerd, as well as the vote of confidence. Nevermind, Nenya, my name is Jon. I’m glad to introduce myself to you, such a beautiful and tall High Elf. We are a band of adventurers hailing from the neighboring hold of Whiterun. We want to know if you have some perilous tasks that need to be solved by the means of violence.”
Nenya: “Ah, Jon, the charming one. I must say, I’m intrigued by your… audacity. As for tasks, well, we do have some issues in the area that could use your particular set of skills. Bandits, wolves, and the like have been causing trouble on the roads.”
Uthgerd: “Oh boy, here we go again. Jon’s going to try to sweet-talk his way into getting us a job.”
Jenassa: “What kind of pay can we expect for taking on these tasks, steward?”
Jon: “Yes, I’m afraid, Nenya, that even though we are very kind-hearted and compassionate adventurers, we require money to live, as everyone does. You know, we have to pay for lodging and food. We’ll gladly take care of your bandit and wolf problem, and maybe other stuff, but we do require some reward of the monetary kind.”
Nenya: “It’s only fair that you’re compensated for your trouble. We can offer a modest sum of gold and some… let’s call them privileges in Falkreath. However, I must warn you, our treasury isn’t as… overflowing as it used to be.”
Uthgerd: “Saved by the greed, as always. I’m sure we can come to some agreement, Nenya.”
Jon: “Miss Nenya, do you think it would be worth it for us to introduce ourselves to your employer?”
Nenya: “Ah, you mean the jarl, Siddgeir? I suppose it couldn’t hurt to pay your respects. Though, I should warn you, he’s not exactly… the most… involved leader. He has his interests, and governance isn’t always at the top of his list.”
Ria: “That sounds like a delicate situation. I’m not sure if we should get involved with the local politics, but it might be good to know more about the jarl and his priorities.”
Jenassa: “Information is always valuable.”
Jon: “Nenya, I’m glad that you spoke so candidly with us complete strangers, newcomers to your hold, about the shortcomings of your boss jarl Siddgeir. I must say, we have spoken to the populace, and they seem rather troubled about your leader’s incompetence.”
Nenya: “Ah, I see you’ve already gotten a taste of the local sentiment, have you? Well, I suppose it’s no secret that Siddgeir’s rule has been… questionable, at best. As his steward, I’ve tried to… mitigate the effects of his inattention, but it’s a difficult task.”
Uthgerd: “It sounds like the jarl is more interested in enjoying his power than actually doing his job.”
Jon: “Well, Nenya, steward of Falkreath, if your administrative abilities are equiparable to your beauty, I’m sure you’re doing a tremendous job.”
Nenya: “Ah, Jon, you’re as silver-tongued as you are bold. I assure you, my abilities as a steward are not simply a matter of aesthetics. I have served Falkreath for many years, and I take my duties very seriously.”

We approached the jarl, who didn’t seem impressed by us.

Jon: “Jarl Siddgeir, sire, I present myself as the leader of a band of adventurers that is, at the time, unnamed. Anyway, we have met your steward, Nenya.”
Nenya: “I’ve had the pleasure of making their acquaintance. They seem quite… eager to prove themselves.”
Jarl Siddgeir: “I am Jarl Siddgeir, the ruler of Falkreath.”
Jon: “Well, let me tell you, Mr. Siddgeir, we have spoken to the populace, and they seem to be very happy about your rule. So, congratulations about that. A jarl should always be respected and thought that he is awesome.”
Uthgerd: “Oh, spare us the flattery, Jon. We’re here to discuss potential work, not to kiss up to the jarl.”
Nenya: “Actually, Jarl Siddgeir, I think Jon’s sentiments are… misplaced. The people of Falkreath are indeed happy, but it’s more due to my own efforts in maintaining the hold’s affairs, rather than your… leadership.”
Jarl Siddgeir: “Ah, Nenya, always so blunt. Yes, well, I suppose it’s true.”
Jon: “We don’t want to interfere in the argument between a jarl and his beautiful steward, but my band of adventurers have come to your longhouse because we are capable, we can exercise violence against evil, and we were wondering if you, Jarl Siddgeir, as the ruler of the Falkreath hold, can offer us some work that involves killing monsters or people.”
Jarl Siddgeir: “Ah, yes, yes, of course. Well, as it happens, we do have some issues that require attention. Bandits on the roads, wolves attacking travelers… that sort of thing. I’m sure Nenya can provide you with the details.”
Nenya: “Indeed, I can. We’ve had reports of a particularly vicious group of bandits operating near the old ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow. They’ve been attacking merchants and travelers alike. If you’re willing to take on the task, we can offer you a modest reward.”
Jon: “Near the ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow, you say? We came from Bleak Falls Barrow. We cleared out that ancient complex of ruins, and we killed every single bandit we saw there.”
Jenassa: “Yes, and we took out a few draugr and a giant spider for good measure. It was a productive day.”
Ria: “And we found some great loot, too! That ancient Nord ruin was filled with all sorts of treasures.”
Nenya: “Ah, well, in that case, it seems you’re a more capable group than I initially thought. Very well, I suppose that particular task is no longer necessary.”
Jon: “Listen, Jarl Siddgeir, I see you have the standard fare of problems: bandits and wolves on the road. We’ll patrol the area and kill anything that attacks us. If we see any bandit camp, we’ll clear it out.”
Uthgerd: “What’s with the cheese wheel antics?”
Jon: “It is midday already, and I haven’t eaten anything since I woke up. I was hungry and I remembered I had a cheese wheel in my backpack. I thought it would be great to eat some cheese. It was delicious.”
Jenassa: “Ah, I see. Well, hunger can be a powerful motivator, can’t it, Jon?”
Ria: “And it looks like you’re quite the cheese connoisseur, too. Smuggler’s Cheese Wheel, no less!”
Nenya: “I’m glad to see that your priorities are in order, Jon. Hunger is, after all, a pressing concern. But, if you’re quite satisfied now, perhaps we could return to the matter at hand?”
Jon: “Yes, the monster of hunger has been vanquished. My final point I wanted to make to you, Jarl Siddgeir, is this: we’re a capable band of warriors and we shall vanquish your foes. For a modest fee.”
Uthgerd: “Ha! I like your spirit, Jon. And I’m sure the Jarl appreciates your… colorful way with words.”
Jarl Siddgeir: “Ah, yes, well, I think we’ve established that you’re a capable group. And I’m willing to pay a modest fee for your services, as you put it. Nenya, see to it that they’re compensated fairly for their work.”
Jon: “Well, I guess that is all. We’ll stop bothering you now, Jarl Siddgeir. Thank you for your attention. I must say, you’re quite the chill dude. You seem like you have a good time around here.”
Nenya: “Ah, yes, well, the Jarl does have a… certain reputation for being… laid back, shall we say.”
Jarl Siddgeir: “Ha! Chill dude, I like that. Yes, I try to keep things… relaxed around here. It’s not always easy, of course, but I do my best.”

Uthgerd: “Well, I think we’ve wasted enough of the Jarl’s time, Jon.”

I didn’t want a repeat of the Bleak Falls Barrow situation, when I found myself lacking magicka potions, so I headed to the local alchemist’s shop. It was time, if not to buy potions, to mix my ingredients into some. To my confusion, we found an Argonian dude browsing the ingredients.

Jon: “Hey, hello, Mrs. shopkeeper. I was going to ask you the standard fare about potions and ingredients, but I have noticed the Argonian. Rare to see one around these parts.”
Zaria: “Ah, yes, good day to you! Not many travelers come through here asking about the locals, but yes, Thrice-Bitten here is indeed a rare sight. We don’t often get Argonians in Falkreath.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, yes, just passing through, trying to… uh… acquire some… rare ingredients. Lovely shop you have here, Zaria.”
Uthgerd: “What’s all this I hear about rare ingredients?”
Jon: “I must say, Thrice-Bitten, that you sounded a bit suspicious there.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Oh, no, no, no, nothing suspicious at all! I assure you, just a… a nervous habit, that’s all.”

Zaria: “Actually, Thrice-Bitten has been acting a bit… unusual since he arrived. I’ve never seen anyone so… anxious to acquire certain ingredients.”
Ria: “Unusual, you say? What kind of ingredients is he looking for?”
Jon: “Yes, Thrice-Bitten, please answer my beautiful companion Ria. Are you looking for specific types of ingredients?”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, no, no, nothing in particular, I assure you! Just… uh… browsing, yes, that’s it. Although… I did hear that Zaria might have some… rare mushrooms in stock.”
Zaria: “Rare mushrooms? Which ones might you be referring to? I don’t recall showing you any particularly rare or exotic specimens.”
Jon: “Oh, I see what this is about. Rare mushrooms, huh? Of course, we all want rare mushrooms if we can find them. Nothing wrong with flying in your mind to have a good ol’ time.”
Uthgerd: “Oh, Jon, please. This isn’t about your… recreational activities. Thrice-Bitten’s hiding something.”
Thrice-Bitten: “No, no, it’s nothing like that! I just… need them for a… a medical purpose, yes.”
Jenassa: “A medical purpose? What kind of medical purpose could you possibly need rare mushrooms for?”
Jon: “I don’t know if this is any of our business, but yeah, Thrice-Bitten, I’m curious enough to know. Do you have a disease, perhaps a contagious one that everybody else should stay away from?”
Thrice-Bitten: “No, no disease! Nothing contagious, I assure you! It’s just… a personal matter. Something I’d rather not discuss in public, if you don’t mind.”
Ria: “A personal matter? That sounds even more suspicious. Maybe we should be careful around you, Thrice-Bitten.”
Zaria: “Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions. Thrice-Bitten’s been a good customer, and I’m sure he means no harm.”
Jon: “You see, the issue here, Thrice-Bitten, is that me and my companions, my beautiful Uthgerd the Unbroken, Ria the Companion, and Jenassa the sellsword, we are professional solvers of problems. Those problems usually involve excessive amounts of violence. We don’t have any issue killing people and doing all kinds of nasty stuff to their bodies. So now that we’re dealing with you, I have to wonder… is this a problem to be solved?”
Thrice-Bitten: “Oh dear, oh dear… This is not good, not good at all. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. You see, I’m not a problem to be solved; I’m just a… a person with a problem. A problem that I’m trying to fix before it’s too late.”
Uthgerd: “What kind of problem? Spit it out, Argonian. We don’t have all day.”
Jon: “Yes, Thrice-Bitten, the beautiful Uthgerd, whom you see here frowning, she’s constantly aching to cleave someone in half, and I’m eager to see her do it, as it makes me aroused. So, Thrice-Bitten, out with it. If we can help you, we will help you, and if we have to hurt you, we will hurt you.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, please, please, I beg of you! Don’t hurt me! I’ll tell you everything! I’ll tell you all about the letter!”
Zaria: “A letter? What letter? What’s going on, Thrice-Bitten?”
Thrice-Bitten: “I wrote a letter… to Ingun Black-Briar… in Riften. I said some… unpleasant things about her and her mother, Maven Black-Briar.”
Jon: “You said unpleasant things to the most powerful person in Riften, who is basically a mob boss? I’m sure she can send assassins against you, Thrice-Bitten. That wasn’t a wise thing to do.”
Thrice-Bitten: “I know, I know! I was a fool! I was trying to… burn bridges, you see. I’ve been too agreeable in the past, and I wanted to make it clear that I wouldn’t be taken advantage of anymore. But I went too far, and now I’m sure Maven will have me killed.”
Jenassa: “Burn bridges? What do you mean?”
Jon: “Oh, I know all about burning bridges. That’s when you destroy your relationship with someone you used to care about, destroy it to an extent that it cannot be repaired. You can no longer look at this person in the face and expect any kind of respect from them.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Yes, exactly! That’s what I was trying to do. But I think I may have gone too far this time. Maven Black-Briar is not someone to be trifled with, and I’m sure she’ll stop at nothing to make an example of me.”
Ria: “So, what do you want from us, Thrice-Bitten? You want us to protect you from Maven’s wrath?”
Jon: “Well, Thrice-Bitten, you have put us in… How to say it? A quandary. Now we know that Maven Black-Briar may offer money for your corpse.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, please, you have to help me! I’ll do anything! I’ll pay you, I’ll give you anything you want! Just please, you have to stop that letter from reaching Ingun! If it reaches her, I’m a dead man! Maven will have me killed, and I’ll never be able to show my face in Riften again!”
Jon: “Well, you wouldn’t be able to show your face in Riften if you’re killed, so you have that sorted out, but how is anyone supposed to stop a letter? I don’t know what you mean. Does a letter have legs?”
Thrice-Bitten: “No, no, of course not! I mean that the letter is being carried by a courier! He’s supposed to deliver it to Ingun Black-Briar in Riften. If we can intercept the courier, we can stop the letter from reaching her!”
Uthgerd: “Ah, a courier, you say? That’s a bit more manageable. Do you know which route the courier is taking?”
Jon: “Yeah, please, Thrice-Bitten, first answer my lovely companion Uthgerd here, but I have to say, you want us to murder a courier just because you’re an idiot and wrote a really nasty letter?”
Thrice-Bitten: “I… I didn’t think of it as murder, exactly… I just want to protect myself from Maven’s wrath… But, I suppose it’s true… I did write the letter, and now I want you to kill someone to fix my mistake…”
Uthgerd: “Stop stammering and answer my question, Argonian! Which route is the courier taking? Is he going through the mountains or along the main road?”
Jon: “Hey, Thrice-Bitten, stop stalling and answer my big, sturdy, gorgeous companion here.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, forgive me! The courier… he’s taking the main road… from Falkreath to Riften. He should be passing through the forest just east of here.”
Zaria: “Ah, now that’s a coincidence. You’re in luck, Thrice-Bitten. That’s the same road Jon and his companions were heading down anyway, weren’t you?”

I didn’t like that this was beginning to feel like an obligatory quest.

Jenassa: “What business do we have in Riften, Jon?”
Jon: “We have no business whatsoever in Riften, Jenassa. I think this is a waste of time.”
Uthgerd: “Hold on, Jon. I think this is starting to get interesting. We’ve got a courier to intercept and a letter to retrieve. It’s not every day we get to cause a bit of chaos and mayhem on the roads.”
Ria: “I’m with Uthgerd on this one, Jon. It sounds like a challenge. And who knows what kind of reward we might get from Thrice-Bitten if we can pull it off?”
Jon: “Yeah, what kind of reward is Thrice-Bitten going to give us? One of his scales? Uthgerd, are you seriously considering murdering a courier for this scaly bastard here?”
Thrice-Bitten: “No, no, I’ll give you gold! Lots of gold! I’ll give you everything I have! Just please, please stop the letter from reaching Ingun!”
Uthgerd: “Hold on, Jon. No one said anything about murder. We’re just going to… intercept the courier. And Thrice-Bitten’s gold is as good as anyone’s.”
Zaria: “I’m sure the courier’s life is worth more than all the gold in Skyrim, Uthgerd.”
Jon: “Alright, Thrice-Bitten, I guess we’ll consider this quest of yours, even though, I must say, this is entirely your fucking fault. If you weren’t such a nasty, idiotic Argonian, you wouldn’t have created this problem that may end in someone’s death.”
Thrice-Bitten: “I know, I know… I was a fool… I said things I shouldn’t have, and now I’m paying the price… But please, don’t lecture me anymore, just… just help me…”
Uthgerd: “Shut up, Thrice-Bitten. Jon’s right, this is all your fault. But we’ll help you anyway. Because that’s what we do.”
Jon: “Uthgerd, when you act so heroically, I feel such a tingling in me… I’m like swooning at you.”
Uthgerd: “Oh, Jon, stop it. This is no time for your… romantic nonsense. We have a task to discuss, not to mention the fact that we’re in a public place.”
Jenassa: “Indeed, let’s focus on the task at hand. Thrice-Bitten, tell us more about the courier. What does he look like? When was he supposed to leave?”
Jon: “Thrice-Bitten, you better answer Jenassa here. As you see her, with her crimson eyes and full lips, she’s an assassin of real competence, so you better be careful, and measure your words.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, yes, of course! I’ll be careful, I promise! The courier… he’s a middle-aged man, a bit on the heavier side, with a dark beard and wearing a leather tunic with the symbol of the Rift’s couriers on it. He was supposed to leave early this morning, heading towards Riften along the main road.”
Jenassa: “I see. And do you have any idea how many guards he might have with him?”
Ria: “Yeah, and what kind of cargo is he carrying besides the letter?”
Jon: “Thrice-Bitten, how come you said that the courier is on the heavier side, if he spends his life walking from place to place? Are you saying that walking constantly from place to place doesn’t make a man slim?”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, well, you see… I didn’t mean to imply that the courier is… unfit or anything. It’s just that… well, couriers often have a bit of a… privileged lifestyle, shall we say. They get to eat and drink well, and they don’t always have to walk as much as you’d think. Sometimes they get to ride horses or carriages, especially if they’re carrying important or valuable cargo.”
Uthgerd: “Ha! A privileged lifestyle, you say? I’ve never met a courier who didn’t look like they’d been run over by a horse.”
Jon: “If being a courier is such a privileged career, why didn’t you become one, Thrice-Bitten? In that case, after you wrote that cursed letter, you could have delivered it yourself. Along the way, when regret hit, you would have simply stopped the delivery, and nobody would have to murder you.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, well… I… uh… You see, I’m not exactly… suited for that kind of work. I’m more of a… a… Oh, I don’t know, a scholar, I suppose. I like to think, not walk all day.”
Jenassa: “A scholar, huh? Well, maybe you should have thought twice before writing that letter, then.”
Jon: “A scholar?! An Argonian scholar?! I bet you can’t even read. Well, I suppose you can read and write if you wrote a letter, but anyway, my point is that you, Thrice-Bitten, failing to become a courier is the source of all your troubles.”
Thrice-Bitten: “Ah, yes, I can read and write, thank you very much! I may not be as… physically gifted as some others, but I have a mind, and I know how to use it! And, I suppose, in a way, you’re right. If I had become a courier, none of this would have happened. But, alas, fate has a way of playing tricks on us, doesn’t it?”

I took my warriors aside for a moment.

Jon: “Well, my beautiful team of murderous women, are we seriously going to follow the road to Riften in pursuit of a courier, to retrieve this bastard’s letter?”
Uthgerd: “I think we’ve come too far to turn back now, Jon. Besides, it’ll be a nice change of pace from the usual bandits and dragons. A little intrigue and espionage could be fun.”
Jenassa: “I agree with Uthgerd. It’s not every day we get to play at being spies. And who knows, maybe we’ll learn something new about the inner workings of the Rift.”
Jon: “Well, it seems I don’t need a house to be surrounded by children, because this is childish. Any mission that doesn’t involve disemboweling people is unworthy, as far as I’m concerned.”
Uthgerd: “Oh, come on, Jon. You’re not going to start with that again, are you? We can’t just go around killing people all the time. Sometimes a little subtlety is required.”
Jenassa: “Besides, Jon, this mission may not involve bloodshed, but it’s still a challenge. And who knows, maybe we’ll find some… opportunities for violence along the way.”
Jon: “Hey, Uthgerd, you understand it, don’t you? If I don’t manage to kill someone every few days, I start feeling this itch in me, you know… the itch to shed blood and destroy a life. You surely feel it as well, don’t you, Uthgerd?”
Uthgerd: “Ah, Jon, I… I understand where you’re coming from, but no, I don’t feel that itch. I’m a warrior, not a murderer. I fight for honor, for my city, and for my people. I don’t crave bloodshed for its own sake. And I think you need to be careful with that itch of yours. It might consume you one day.”
Jon: “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find an ointment or something for it.”