The short summer air was still nippy and cold from a hard thawed spring and even harder winter. Today the prisons slept full with new arrivals, it was squat, squashed and cramped as civil rebels and innocent bystanders were locked away behind cold bars. Many of the people were being questioned by the guards in their thick armor. The innocent were handed a sorry and allowed to go. It felt the line was taking forever, for those claimed themselves innocent. All though were those who slumbered in the prison that were not so innocent. These were common criminals, others less so common, and others were mere myths and whispers coming to the surface.
They watched those who howled in protest with hungry eyes. Like wolves locked in cages, their eyes snarled like wicked beast. All though some simply refused to go in the line. Rothion for one hand sat back and watched the line of protested shrieks, at least now he had a free bed and roof. He'd claim and even prove his innocence by tomorrow. But he still felt uneasy staring at the few others in the prison. It seemed as if an eternity had slipped by, the line of people claiming their innocence and wrong doing were gone. Only criminals and a coward lay together in the night of the harsh Skyrim lands. Everything seemed to be winding down until the doors opened.
A man rushed in, he was large and muscular more like a giant than a Nord. His skin was pale, but his hair was thick and wiry. Black hair grizzled and matted in both sweat and old blood, his eyes were sharp and stern. Behind were low commoner guards, whom both didn't look surprised of the large man's presence, but also as if they were enjoying themselves.
"Which ones of you took it?" he snarled, "I know it must been one of you."
"Excuse me," Rothion said calmly.
"What do you want, criminal scum?" he snarled.
"Well actually," Rothion paused, "I have never committed a crime in my life, I quite prefer not getting involved in needless violence. But I digress, coming in here with an accusatory tone will not help you find anything. What are you looking for exactly?"
"Aren't you a little dandy fellow Breton," the man venomously, "It must have been you then. It's the only explanation."
"Won't you ever shut up," said a voice coming from the door, "I said these people could help us. Not that these people were thieves."
"Reaver," the man growled.
"Remember I asked for your help," he paused, "I never said anything about me helping you. Hello hello, people in this....hideous place."
A man came into the light. Those of Imperial or Nordic blood would recognize the shrewd businessman Jacques Reaver. His curly blond hair descending down to his shoulders. His bold red clothes and that smug smile on his face.
"It appears one of dear lords is missing an amulet," Jacques said, "I don't know where it is and I'm sure since many of you were caught on the streets you have no clue what I am talking about. Listen to me prattle on it's droning. I make you an offer, join The Grey's Company and find the amulet. You'll be allowed out of these cells and you might live a little longer or not. I really don't know. But make your decision fast because I'm getting sick in this place."
"What is The Grey's Company?" asked a woman in the back of the cells.
"Name?" Jacques asked.
"Leonora Jensen," she snapped.
"Yes, Ms. Jensen what were you asking I didn't hear you the first time around," Jacques said.
"What is The Grey's Company?" Nora asked tight lipped and annoyed.
"Why yes, that is a valuable question," Jacques paused, "The Grey's Company helps find things, protect things, or well those matters cannot be discussed in front of guards. It is funded by I Reaver. The Grey's Company is like any noble one of the guilds, just more noble. Basically, I collect you, you work for me, you become heroes or that's the marketing of it all. Don't join. You don't get out of here it's as simple as that. I have been asked by one of my noble associates to find this heirloom amulet. Don't worry you get paid before one of your greedy driving type have slippy gold fingers."
The light flickered. No one liked the option of working with Reaver, but no one liked the option of living in a cell for the rest of their life either.