Chapter Text
Anvil, Gold Coast
In the cool of the shade, Rif studied the spyglass, running her thumbs along the adorning gold patterns of each piece. It was wonderfully crafted, and she ached to test it out, but its previous owner seemed in no hurry to finish loading his ship, probably so he could continue being an insufferable lecher around her.
"Your break ended nearly half an hour ago, little elf." Bahva's voice made her jolt, but she composed herself quickly before turning to meet her boss.
"Urada," Rif apologized. "I would've returned sooner, but this freighter is most unpleasant to work with."
Bahva sighed at that, her ears wilting momentarily. "This one noticed. Unfortunately, that oafish Niden cut his day short. Said he was feeling ill. You are the only one on the docks."
Lovely, Rif thought with a frown, especially since she was certain she'd seen Niden casting lines on the northern banks around midday.
"Can't you stick around, keep company?" She was practically begging, a rare occurrence since she loved the docks and the work that came with it. Bahva was stunned at this, a twitch of her whiskers giving her away. She would relent; Rif just needed to push a little harder. "I'll stay late to fill out the logs for you. Please."
"Peh. Fine. But only because the sooner we get that poor sailor away from here, the less likely he is to notice his expensive spyglass is missing." Yffre's tits. "Aha! Don't gape at Bahva, little elf. Even an infant khajit makes a much better thief than you. Now come, do your job."
At the khajit's motion, Rif rose to follow her, condensing her prize with a satisfying snap.
"Th–that's not true, you know. He didn't notice a thing!"
"Infatuated fools never do. He is too easy a mark. You could've gone for his coin purse if you really wanted." That drew a giggle out of Rif, but Bahva merely shot her a glance. "Be aware, that was not a suggestion. This one does not wish to show up at your grandmother's house with the news you are in jail."
"So little faith in me?"
"Stick to what you are good at, dockhand."
Rif dragged her gaze from the looming masts to her boss, catching the amused twitch of Bahva's tail as she smirked.
—
Indeed, with Bahva around, the freighter captain was less…sleazy, and with the cargo loaded within the hour, Rif could relax and enjoy the weight of the scope in her pocket. Of course, as soon as the ship was nearly out of sight, Bahva slapped a heavy journal in her hands, effectively dousing her enthusiasm to test out her trophy.
Resigned, but still comforted by the sound of the waves, Rif sat herself and the book on a nearby crate, and kept true to her word.
—
When the sun dipped deep enough into the sea and the light became too scarce to continue, Rif closed the log shut.
Come morning, Bahva should be satisfied to see she'd even worked ahead, allocating and labeling spaces for the expected ships in the next few days. Maybe she'd even pay her an extra coin or two.
Rif was a tad fatigued, and especially hungry, but the dying amber light over the water absolutely demanded her new spyglass's attention.
Out in the open, the warmed metal felt good her hand, and she couldn’t suppress an excited laugh as she raised it to her eye.
Needless to say, the craftsmanship did absolute justice to the performance.
She swept her gaze from one end of the port to the other, slowly, absorbing every distant wave, twinkling star, and flying gull. Probably foolishly, she squinted at the last bit of sunlight on the horizon, watching until it sunk entirely, leaving the sky dark and vast.
"Aaaannnriffennnn!" Her name sang out in the night, and she swung around to point the glass at the disturbance. A row of glinting teeth crowded her field of vision, and she shrieked as she recognized the smile of her second favorite person in the world.
"What are you doing here?" Rif sprinted forward to throw herself around the dunmer's neck. "I thought you were still in Deshaan for another fortnight!"
The courier laughed in her ear as she swung Rif off the ground. "Yes well, the Pact needed something hand-delivered to Skywatch, so I decided to plan my route through my favorite port in all of Tamriel."
Rif pulled back slightly. "The Pact? As in Ebonheart? Sonni…this sounds dangerous." The world was troubled, and history books held no reprieves for the heralds of war. No one loved the messenger who brought bad news.
"It's not dangerous, I promise you. The Alliances pass correspondence amongst themselves all the time."
"But they're at war!"
Sonnilah shrugged. "Maybe they just exchange petty notes like schoolchildren. Their letters could just say a big 'fuck you.' Either way, I get paid."
Unease made Rif shake her head, but an incredulous laugh still escaped her. "You're mad. Madder than Sheogorath, for you never take anything seriously."
Sonni sighed and tapped her on the nose. "You are only afraid because you don't see the world out there as I do. This 'war' is nonsense, buffoonery. If you only knew the pompous drivel and bureaucracy that fuels the rumors. You'd care a lot less, then."
Rif opened her mouth to object, but just as quickly shut it, for she realized she really did not know enough to support an argument. As much as she liked to claim the world came to her on these docks, she was but another of Anvil's indoctrinated. Like the rest of the citizens, she did not speak of the Dark Brotherhood lurking outside the city, nor of the droves of Dominion Marines that trotted through the streets some nights on their way to the Heartlands, and she pointedly ignored the only remaining trace of Count Ephrem's futile assaults against Kvatch—which was that the guard count had never recovered. The Golden Coast shined brightly as ever; the sea breeze sang, the pale sands gleamed, and life was a delightful vacation. Praised be Dibella.
"Then tell me," she finally said. "Since I do not know, tell me."
Her friend took a step back to blink warily at her. "Come now, Rif. I haven't seen you since winter and you want to talk politics? How about instead, you show me thing shiny thing you've been waving around."
Rif felt her temper flare mildly at the misdirection. Sonnilah was her closest friend whom she greatly adored, but that did not mean her flaws were overlooked. She had Indoril blood, and all the pride and cunning that came with it. Was it that pride and cunning now, that chose to keep Rif in the dark? Then Sonni smiled loosely and Rif wavered; indeed it had been months since they'd spoken face to face, and she did not want to start the night with anger.
"Fine, but we'll continue this later."
"Fine," the dunmer echoed, winking one of those inky-black eyes.
Rif rolled her eyes. "You're damned lucky I'm way too excited about this." She raised the spyglass to eye level, twisting and turning it to display how beautifully it reflected the warm glow of the city. Sonni was just as awestruck as she was, and the two huddled close to study it reverently. The tale of its acquisition earned Rif an approving laugh, and she felt her spirits lift ever slightly.
"Let me try it out?" Sonni asked.
"Of course!" Rif eagerly led her friend back to the docks, pointing out the faintest of stars for her to look at. They chatted excitedly about the twin Black moons, a rare event that was enhanced by the seeing glass. With the warm breeze and lull of the low tide—as well as Sonni's soothing narration of each and every small event she saw—Rif felt the remains of her earlier unease drain away.
"Rif…you expecting any ships tonight?" Sonni suddenly asked, and all the nerves and dread flooded back to sit heavily in Rif's gut.
"W-what? The logs are closed," she stated definitively.
"And what is a little ledger to a great ship?"
"This port is very strict, and we don't keep the dockworkers into the night. Everyone knows this. The ships come as scheduled or stay out of the shallows until dawn." Unless they carry soldiers, she reminded herself, but Bahva would not have left her alone tonight if that were the case. Right?
"I think such common knowledge is lacking in this one then. Here, have a look."
Rif took the scope hesitantly and directed it where Sonni pointed. Sure enough, less than a kilometer out, nearly obscured in the dark, sat a faint silhouette of a vessel. A large one. She strained to see the crest on its sails, but it was still too far away.
"Maybe...maybe it'll stop," she hoped. "It's still out deep enough."
"And if it doesn't?"
The question was a bit unnerving. Rif had worked the seaport since she was a child, loving the ocean and the boats and the visitors. She was confident in her abilities, just as confident as Bahva was to let her handle a docked vessel on her own. This was different though. A large ship in the dark of the night. Rif pulled up the spyglass again to check the ship's progress. In such a short time, it loomed closer, sails now visible and detailed. They were moving quickly then, and yet the crest was unrecognizable. Shit.
"Sonni…you see more of the world than I do. Do you recognize that coat of arms?"
After a pregnant pause, Sonni shook her head. "Not any of the Alliances or countries. Not anything I've ever seen, and I've read the records, viewed the Akaviri clan crests. This is unknown to me." Shit, shit, shit. Her closest friend in the world turned to her, wide eyed, and whispered, "What are you going to do?"