Ysolda walked into the Bannered Mare, plotting to get some dinner for the night. What greeted her was not the warm, comforting tavern she was used to. It was chaos. A pile of animal furs sat in front of the fire. Empty bottles and daggers were strewn about the room, and food was splattered everywhere. She moved quickly to Hulda, who was busy picking up a smashed apple pie.
“Hulda! What in Oblivion happened here?!” she asked, moving to help the older woman.
“The Dragonborn happened,” Hulda said, placing the smashed pie on the table before moving to pick up a goblet.
“What do you mean? Was there some kind of fight?” Ysolda asked, picking up an empty wine bottle.
“No. First, the Dragonborn comes in, and asks about some rumors. I told her about that Aretino boy trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood. Then she tried to sell me all those animal furs and daggers, and when I couldn’t afford them, she just began dumping them on the ground.” Hulda moved over to the pile of furs and kicked them once in frustration. “What am I going to do with fifteen wolf pelts? Why didn’t she tan them and sell them to Adrienna?”
“But what about the food?” Ysolda asked, looking around at the food still on the floor. “How did the food get everywhere?”
“Oh, the Dragonborn jumped up and down on every table for five minutes,” Hulda responded, as if she was used to that. “She does that every Tirdas. It’s nothing new.”
“Is the Dragonborn mad?” Ysolda asked as she moved to the window.
“I’m beginning to suspect it, but what can we do?” Hulda said, shaking her head. “She’s the Dragonborn.”
“Well, she appears to be coming back,” Ysolda said, moving quickly to a corner of the tavern. The Dragonborn strode quickly through the doors of the tavern, storming directly to the counter.
“Hulda, how much will you give me for this,” she asked, holding out a crystalline object. It glowed with a blue tint, and had eight wavy arms branching off of one large, blue tinted gemstone. Hulda looked at it in surprise.
“Is that…is that Azura’s Star?” she asked, awe in her voice.
“Yeah. It’s taking up room in my pack,” the Dragonborn responded. Before Hulda could answer, however, the woman strode purposefully away from the counter. She moved to the back of the tavern, standing herself in the corner, and simply stared, lifelessly, straight forward.
“…Why is the Dragonborn standing in the corner?” Ysolda asked, moving cautiously towards the counter.
“I’ve found it’s best not to ask questions. Did you want some food, deary?” Hulda responded, content to go back to pretending nothing was amiss.
“…That may be the smartest thing I’ve heard all day. Yes, I’d like some dinner,” Ysolda responded with a small smile.