The Demands of the Divines Chapter 1 in The Demands of the Divines

“All right, now. Settle down a second,” the bard shouted over the voices of the rowdy crowd. “You know I would never get in the way of a good time, but it isn’t every day that we here at the Bannered Mare are graced with a visitor from the Cloud District.”

Mikael, the bard, chuckled and indicated with his hands that the crowd should be quiet as sporadic claps and boos came from the patrons of the tavern.

“And we are certainly lucky to have a visitor as beautiful and talented as this one. Fakhriya, Thane of Whiterun, won’t you please join me?” Mikael alternately applauded and waved his hands to encourage the Thane to come to the far end of the firepit in the back of the tavern.

“Help me out here, guys,” Mikael said to get the people near him to clap their encouragement as well.

At a table near the entrance of the tavern sat two women, a Redguard and a Dunmer. The Redguard looked at the floor and held her hand in front of her eyes as if she were embarrassed. The Dunmer applauded and tilted her head towards the back of the tavern to encourage the other woman to concede to the bard’s wishes.

“If you had wanted to be inconspicuous, we could have stayed home,” said Jenassa, the Dunmer. “You may as well give the people what they want.”

Fakhriya, the Redguard, got to her feet, placed her left hand lightly on her chest and extended her right hand towards to Mikael in a gesture that suggested she was both surprised and flattered by the invitation.

Mikael clapped with renewed strength as the Thane weaved her way to the back of the tavern. He turned slightly to his left to order a young man sitting on the floor behind him to get a lute for the Thane and then quickly met the Thane’s gaze again as if he were afraid that she would return to her seat if he failed to maintain eye contact.

“Fakhriya, Thane of Whiterun,” Mikael announced again as the Thane took a position next to him in front of the firepit and accepted the lute from the young man.

Fakhriya, who appeared to be in her late twenties, was a half foot shorter than the blond bard. She wore a simple dress in a rich brown that nearly matched the shade of her skin. A bright white neckline drew the eye up to her face. Her hair was loosely tied back in a ponytail that extended from the back of her head to the nape of her neck. Short, black bangs hung just above her hazel eyes. The fire light danced on the gems of the Amulet of Dibella she wore around her neck and the circlet she wore on her head.

“This is a local favorite and the first song I ever learned,” Mikael said as both he and Fakhriya put their instruments in playing position. In harmonizing unison they sang:

There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead.

Mikael and Fakhriya played an extended set that included well known drinking songs and bawdy ballads and a few local songs that extolled the exploits of the Companions. Near the middle of the set Fakhriya did a solo piece about a ghostly woman who wandered the shores near Dawnstar in search of a lover who never returned from sea.

The final number of the set was a relatively new song that had circulated the province of Skyrim after the death of High King Torygg and was gaining popularity as hostilities between the Empire and the rebellious Stormcloaks escalated from isolated skirmishes to full blown battles. A group of eight or ten Imperial Legionnaires crowded around a small table recognized the song from its first notes and sang mightily with the bards:

We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone. The Age of Aggression is just about done.

With the end of Mikael’s final set the crowd at the Bannered Mare started to thin. The late hours of Loredas had become the wee hours of Sundas. A different bard, a Breton, played a flute as Fakhriya returned to the table where Jenassa sat.

“Whew! What a night!” Fakhriya sighed as she slumped into the chair and fanned herself with her hand.

No sooner had Fakhriya sat down than Mikael appeared at the table with three Honningbrew Meads. He placed the bottles on the table and opened his arms to Fakhriya. She stood and accepted his warm embrace.

“By the Eights, how long has it been?” Mikael asked as he lifted Fakhriya to the tips of her toes. When he returned Fakhriya to her feet he kissed her lightly on both cheeks and then took hold of her hands to hold them out as he examined her outfit.

“You look positively stunning,” he exclaimed.

Mikael released Fakhriya’s hands, turned towards the Dunmer and extended his right hand.

“Jenassa,” he said curtly as the Dunmer stood and accepted his handshake. Mikael pulled her into a backslapping embrace and pecked her left cheek before he released her.

“You are as lovely as always,” he said as Jenassa backed away from him and wiped her cheek.

“You know she hates that,” Fakhriya scolded jokingly.

“Can I help it if I’m Dibella’s gift to beautiful women?” Mikael asked with a rakish grin as he took a seat at the table.

“It was quite a crowd in here tonight, wasn’t it?” Fakhriya asked.

“It’s been like this for a while now,” Mikael said. The smile melted from his face as he surveyed the length of the tavern. “It’s all the soldiers. The Imperials aren’t stationed here, but they come into the city to drink. The Jarl may not have picked a side in the war yet, but the people of Whiterun have.”

Mikael turned his attention back to the women at the table.

“But enough talk of the politics of the Hold, my Thane,” Mikael said in a mockingly serious tone. His smile returned as he took Fakhriya’s right hand into his own.

“When did you get to Whiterun? What have you been doing?”

Fakhriya slipped her right hand from Mikael’s grasp and took hold of her mead.

“Jenassa and I have just recently arrived in the city. We’re down from Windhelm.”