Disclaimer: What's Bethesda's is theirs etc. Chapters not in chronological order.

- WINDHELM JUSTICE -

"Your wife, where is she?"

Revyn Sadri blinked, taken aback by Brunwulf Free-Winter's uncharacteric lack of courtesy. But he heard the urgency and anger behind the question. "I'm sorry, serjo, but she's away on White Phial business. Master Nurelion's last fit of illness finally convinced her that his project needed some priority. She should be back in two or three days. May I ask ..."

"Bandits. They attacked an ore caravan to Windhelm. The Jarl's men arrived in time to salvage the shipments but wagons were damaged and two drivers were left behind to try to track what went missing. Two Khajit boys. They never reported in. The mine owner has appealed to the Jarl but he's refused to investigate the missing Khajit. No manpower to spare, he says."

"Ah," was all Revyn could say.

"I was hoping Helsette was here, that she could speak with Hagrid, the mine owner, before he leaves Kynesgrove."

"The inn at Kynesgrove?"

"Aye. Couldn't stomach staying in Windhelm after the Jarl refused his appeal for aid."

"I see. Yes, perhaps I'll speak with him, collect information for my wife should she not make it back before he has to leave."

"I'd appreciate that, Revyn. As usual, if she takes this on and brings justice to those scum, I'll see she's rewarded."

"You're too kind, serjo, as usual."

Hagrid Icebear was an old Nord gone thin and bent after a lifetime of heavy work. Years curled his hands into stiff claws and there was a shadow of pain in every movement. "Kittens, barely ten years when I found 'em curled under the wrecks of their family's wagons. Bandits, y'know. More bloody, bedamned bandits. J'Rone and Jain. When my sons left to join the Stormcloaks, my cat sons insisted on staying to help me keep the family business going. This season they were to learn transporting goods and dealing with buyers. I'd left before them to wait in Windhelm where I was to teach 'em how to deal with hostile buyers and clients. Then I'd gotten the pidgeon telling me the caravans were getting hit by bandits. Oh, the Jarl was fast enough to send troops, but some of the wagons had taken damage and had to be left behind. The loads were redistributed but I was told there weren't enough men to leave behind to guard empty wagons. Other, lighter goods the bandits had taken but the soldiers didn't want to go after those so my sons took it upon themselves to track the bandits. Soldiers let 'em. Khajits were naturals at sneaking to survive, they said. When they never showed up, Stormcloaks told me they most likely ran off to find other easier work. Maybe even joining the bandits themselves."

As the old Nord talked he idly played with a Khajit-style bracelet made of fanciful twists of dyed leather cords interwoven with beads of polished stone, carved wood, and nuggets of gold. Revyn also noted two small combs tucked into the Nord's gray hair. Tiny wood combs from which hung tiny strips of beads and long, silky hairs of striped gray and black. Mane hairs Kjajit males sometimes gave as tokens of love and respect to older family males. Although no expert on Khajit jewelry and ornaments, Revyn thought them of very high quality that sadly wouldn't sell for the price they deserved in this part of Skyrim.

And if such jewelry walked into his shop a week later, well, even he wouldn't buy for fair price, especially not to such a smelly, scruffy specimen who was selling. The Nord wasn't one of the usual Nord customers who deign to walk the Gray Quarter to get to his shop. But then, non-Dunmer found in the Grey Quarter weren't usually the wealthy, respectable Nords. This Nord was dressed in a random mix of cobbled together armor. There was the smell beyond bad personal hygiene that came from poorly tanned furs and belt still sporting the silky grays and black of the unwilling donors.

"A nasty cough you have there," said Revyn with a hopeful, friendly smile. "I do sell some health potions. Not as expensive as you'll find from the White Phial because my wife makes them and she's self taught. She supplies a great deal of base ingredients to the White Phial though. Master Nurelion say's if she weren't so flighty she has the potential to be a decent alchemist." The Nord merely grunted and Revyn smiled again as he sorted through the other items for sale - more random jewelry, armor pieces, small weapons, waggoneer and mining tools, and some clothes, purses, and bags in fair condition. The stuff had been rough cleaned but Revyn had, thanks to his wife, become an expert at spotting blood, recognizing degrees of freshness, and grave goods.

A regular came in, one of the city guards coughing in much the same manner as the other Nord who had slunk into the shadows at seeing a guard uniform.

"All the health potions you've got. Whole damn barrack's catching this damn cough."

"I've only 13 in stock that are ready for selling. My dear wife is adventuring and Azura only knows when she'll be back or if she'll even have time or supplies to brew more.

"I'll take 'em. White Phial's too damn expensive for mere guards." As soon as the guard had the lot, he popped a bottle open and took a mouthful. "Gah! No matter who makes it, still tastes like sewage."

"Try dumping the rest into a keg of sujamma or dark beer. I've found that some medicines actually work more effectively when combined with alcohol." The guard left with his bottles and additional purchases of two silver rings with petty enchantments for health.

Revyn went back to sorting the bags of goods for purchase. He then offered to buy the lot at the lowest end of a decent price range. "I can see you're not happy, but I pay steady suppliers more. Still, let's not end this on a bitter note. Here, a couple of health potions that I didn't sell the guard. Now mind you, these are not quite ready for drinking until after 2 or 3 more days of fermenting, but after that, well, as you heard me tell the guard, dump them in some dark beer or ale."

He escorted the Nord out the shop and as the Nord disappeared down the street, Revyn waived to one of the young farmhands linging outside of the New Gnises Cornerclub. "A quick job if you want," he told the boy. "I need you to discreetly follow that Nord there outside the city. Try to stay out of sight though because I suspect he's a robber and will kill you if he sees you. Just follow him as far as Hollyfrost farm to see what direction he heads. If he does spot you, you can always claim you're making a delivery for me. And here, for further help, here are some tools you can show. Should he remark that those are the tools he just sold me, tell him that I had buyers on my waiting list for new tools. Here's half pay for now. Get moving."

The boy returned the next morning, reporting the bandit had headed towards the abandoned building between Hollyfrost and the border outpost and that insane lot of Boethiah cultitsts. Oh, and Tulvar at Hollyfrost appreciated the new tools in return for sheltering him for the night.

Another two days went by. Brunwulf told him there was another raid. Revyn wasn't surprised when the Khajit pelt wearing Nord came by with more goods and a demand for health potions. Weapons and armor of Dunmer make; perfumes, ornaments, and books from Morrowind. Revyn bought the lot, paying a better price to the happy Nord, and warning him that the new batch of potions, though strong, were still experimental mixtures and harsher tasting. He sold them along with a keg of flin which he promised would mask the taste and had higher alcohol than beer. As the Nord left, Revyn said by way of goodbye, "Boethiah inspire you."

"Who?"

"Boethiah. She's, well, you could say our Daedric prince of battles."

A two days later the guards were talking about the reports from Hollyfrost farm. Hillevi Cruel-Sea had been up at the farm to pay Tulvar and collect the produce for the marketstall when she heard ungodly yelling and screaming from off in the distance. She'd called out the guards, afraid there might be bandits or Imperial troops settling in. Guards found dead bandits. Seems they had a falling out and butchered each other. And it must have been quite a quarrel by the way the bodies were shredded. Or maybe they said some nasty words to those insane cultists in which case they got what they deserved. On a bright note, there was enough evidence to mark them as the lot who'd been robbing Dunmer travelers and Khajit caravans. The guards questioned the proprietor of Sadri's Used Wares after finding potion bottles with his shop's seal on them. The proprietor merely remarked that he didn't question the origins or intents of his customers. As for what was in those bottles? Well, with all the illnesses this season, as they well knew, health potions were in short supply and one of his best selling items.

Helsette finally came back from her mission to find Master Nurelion's legendary White Phial. The mission was a bust though because the artifact was already broken when she found it. She also brought in a haul of Dwemer artifacts, which was the reason why it took her so long to return because she had taken some time after finding the broken phial to explore a nearby ruin. As she was rummaging around in the bedroom, she said, "Revyn, dear, what happened to all the potions in the chest? I hope you didn't use them. The new formula ..."

"I'm sorry, beloved. I know they were meant to be health potions but they smelled funny and I took them to Master Nurelion to test. He said that some of the new ingredients did enhance healing but also caused bad side effects of excitability and paranoia. 'All you would get is a screaming, murdering maniac that would be damn hard to kill because his health would be regenerating like a troll's.' Sorry. His words. I had to, um, toss the lot."

"Oh."

"Don't feel bad, beloved. Master Nurelion said the formula has potential once you find out what caused the frenzy side effects. Now here's your soup, eat up, and get some rest."