Chapter 50: Omake: A Redguard’s Misfortune

Disclaimer: I don't own Nasuverse or Skyrim or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 1058

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read way more than 10 Episodes in advanced plus my other fic: Ars Goetia– Antichrist here.

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

A/N: So I wrote another Omake to celebrate me reaching my P a treon Goal at last, but that has spoiler in it and I suddenly remembered another I wrote a month back, maybe two? This premise is courtesy of Blake- One of my Patron. Hope you guys like it. <3

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We were too late.

The moment Ciri blinked in for the kill, blue portals opened everywhere.

“Shit… How did they respond so quickly?” I cursed, glaring at the armored Riders.

It was supposed to be a quick mission, yet it had now devolved into a giant mess.

“Ciri, take us away, quick! We can’t fight both the Crones and the Hunt!” We could try, but regardless of how disappointing the Crones had been, I was still wary of their Curses. ‘Once bitten, twice shy.’

I could definitely win fighting head-on, and should I fail, escaping was well-within my ability.

But, I could not leave Ciri to fend for herself. Although I was a fucking prick for sure, I wasn’t that far gone. “Leonis, to me!”

I grabbed her by the hand, and just like that, we disappeared in a hail of tortoise-green particles just as hundreds of spikey icicles shot at us from all sides.

—— [Fate: DML] ——

“… And that’s how we ended up here.” I spoke leisurely, grabbing the cup of water from the table. “How you got here is none of my business! Evacuate our farm immediately, you bums!”

Nazeem– The famously hated Redguard roared.

“I- I think we should go, Leonis. It doesn’t seem like we’re welcomed here.” The Witcheress grimaced at the Redguard’s tone. This little bastard, I just shared him an adventure worth two, three songs and he spat on us like that? “Yeah… No. As you can see, my friend’s badly injured, and I’ll be eternally grateful you two let us stay the night, we’ll even pay you good coins–”

I grinned toothily as lightning began to rage in my palm. “– If not...”

I let the silent threat hang over Nazeem and his wife Ahlam.

I gotta give it to Bethesda, they had managed to create a character universally hated thanks to the perpetual misery he seemed to revel in. “Let the poor lad and lass stay, my love–”

She didn’t even bother keeping the disgust out of her voice, yet the Redguard remained as oblivious as ever.

Hell, I most definitely caught a proud smirk on his face seconds ago. It was brief, yet noticeable due to how rare it was to see the miser have even a hint of a smile.

With that settled, we parted ways. Ahlam had been kind enough to assign us a room together.

Unfortunately, there was only one guest room and one bed, which was why I had decided to spend the night on the floor. ‘What a gentleman I am.’

Or I would have, if Ciri didn’t take pity on my poor soul and quite literally dragged me with her onto the bed. “Ciri… You awake?”

The ashen-haired Witcheress moaned as she turned away, a frown marring her beautiful expression due to the wounds she had sustained.

Hopefully, she would be alright.

I sighed, carefully getting up as to not wake her, but just as I set foot on the floor, waves upon waves of Mana, or was it Magicka? We’re in Skyrim after all.

No, focus Leonis!

Waves upon waves of Mana stormed through us, familiar Mana, then came the coldness. “Princess, I know you’re sleepy but you gotta wake up! The Wild Hunt’s here!”

Thus, we ended up leaving again when it was close to morning, but before we went, Ciri and I decided to bring Ahlam– The kind, if somewhat bitter woman with us.

As for Nazeem? We didn’t know where the bastard had run to, but we couldn’t find him anywhere.

You are reading story Fate: Dead Man’s Lament at novel35.com

Left with little choice, Ciri and I took Ahlam and disappeared in a burst of tortoise particles.

—— [Fate: DML] ——

Nazeem ran.

He ran until his lungs hurt, and his heart thumped erratically.

Ahlam was still in the house, but his life was more important.

She was just a trophy-wife anyway, he could get a better one at a snap of a finger.

That’s just his wishful thinking, of course. No woman could stand Nazeem for long, he wasn’t even good in bed, having wasted most of his stamina in menial things like berating people for no reasons, or sucking up to better men like Jarl Balgruuf.

But, Nazeem didn’t care.

He must tell the Jarl of the Spectral Riders.

Jarl Balgruuf would surely know what to do.

He had to, it’s his duty to the people.

Nazeem didn’t know how long he had run, or how far he had gotten.

He just knew that by the time Whiterun got into view, he was crawling forwards on his knees.

His expensive sleeping gown– Yes, Nazeem wore gowns– Was dirty and torn.

He looked no better than the bums and beggars of Whiterun, whom he so often berated and cursed at.

It's early morning, Nazeem was exhausted and hungry.

Thus, rather than making straight for the Jarl, the Redguard stumbled into the Inn, and with what little coins he still had, paid for a stale bread and ale.

He just got out when he stumbled into Brenuin.

He hesitated to call the bum one of his own, the Redguards were a proud people.

They didn’t have bums and beggars like this, this fool. “Ah, if it isn’t the Great Nazeem! Fallen on tough times, have you?”

Nazeem scowled, face red with rage. “I’m here on important business with the Jarl, not like you will be able to understand!”

“Oh, I understand. I understand it very well–” The beggar smirked evilly, flashing his rotting teeth to the rich Redguard. “– You’ve me foods and drinks! How nice of you…”

“What- What are you doing?” Nazeem stumbled back as the beggar approached. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m robbing you, obviously.”

“Get away! I’m ordering you to stop, I’m Naze–!”

Before he could finish, a broken bottle was shoved into his stomach. “No, you’re not. Nazeem’s a rich merchant who owns a successful business… You’re just another bum.”

It's only then that Nazeem realized how badly he had fucked up.

He shouldn’t have dawdled, he should have gone straight to Dragonsreach.

But it was too late.

Nazeem never managed to meet Jarl Balgruuf.

By the time morning came, people only found a corpse with its face scratched bloody and several holes in his stomach.

Thus, ended the tale of Nazeem.

A miserable end, for a miserable man.

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