Well, after learning that the Orsmer mercenary was really only a warrior in the bedroom, i took my leave. I decided I had better keep my word and pay Speaks-Too-Soon the alcohol I promised her, so I went in search of something other than the piss-watered ales and meads this city is famous for.
I tracked down a woman who had some trade connections with a Khajiiti caravan that had just made its way from Hammerfell. Her stall was packed with assorted wines and cordials. I bought every bottle she had. I also inquired about the best place to procure a lute. In light of my large purchase, she said she will contact a music maker who works up in Solitude, but is currently in Rorikstead for business. I do hope he is able to make the soundboard in the Dunmeri fashion, the sound is just so much richer than in the Altmeri style. I swear those pale skinned fetchers prefer as much reverberation as possible and it makes the notes sound awful.
Anyhow, the merchant sent her apprentice to help me carry the first two crates back to the inn. The other crate will be coming tomorrow morning. But the crates that we carried have a selection of different spirits, so our–that is, my bodyguard and I can sample our way across a good chunk of Tamriel. Not that I expect with all her drug use that she will have the palate to appreciate it all. But I must grudging admit I have become rather used to having company and drinking alone when one does not have to seems a bit pathetic.
Nevertheless, Speaks-Too-Soon’s look of surprise when the first crates of alcohol were set down was worth it. I have become rather tired of being looked down upon as someone poor and living beyond their means.