The road to Riverwood was a tapestry of frost and fire—autumn leaves clinging to skeletal trees, smoke rising from distant bandit camps. Gilgamesh trudged ahead, Lyssia's hand in his and Edla's dagger-eyed glare burning holes in his back.
"Why's your name *Gilgamesh*?" Lyssia chirped, kicking a pebble. "Sounds like a sneeze."
Edla snorted.
"It's from a dead tongue," Gilgamesh said, side-eyeing the Dragonborn. "Means 'the guy who has to put up with nosy children and grumpy warriors.'"
"Liar," Lyssia giggled.
"Truth. I carved it into my first victim's shield. He died confused. Good tactic."
Edla rolled her silver eyes. "Your jokes are as sharp as a butter knife."
"Says the woman who named her dagger 'Fluffy.'"
"It's *Flíðr*," Edla snapped, twirling the blade. "Old Tongue for 'storm.'"
"Fluffy suits it better. Look, it's even got a little wolf engraving. *Aww*."
Lyssia laughed, the sound brittle but bright, until a howl cut it short.
**[Combat Alert: Frost Wolves x3]**
Gilgamesh shoved Lyssia behind a rock as the pack lunged. Edla's dagger flashed, but he was already moving, sword swinging with gamer-enhanced precision. A wolf's fangs grazed his arm—**[Health: 85%]**—before he lopped its head off.
"Slow, old man!" Edla taunted, gutting a second beast.
"Says the woman using a toothpick to fight!"
The last wolf pounced at Lyssia. Gilgamesh hurled his sword—hilt-first—into its snout. The creature yelped, and Edla finished it with a boot to the ribs.
"You're welcome," she said, wiping blood on her wolf pelt.
"*I* disarmed it!"
"You *threw* your weapon. Idiot."
Lyssia peeked out, trembling. "Are… are there cookies in Riverwood?"
**Guardian Stones**
The three standing stones loomed ahead, their carvings glowing faintly. Gilgamesh nudged Lyssia toward the mage stone. "Touch that. You'll get… uh, magic candy powers."
"Magic *what*?"
"Just do it."
The girl pressed her palm to the stone, which flared blue. **[Companion Lyssia: Mage Stone Blessing Activated. Magic Regeneration +20%]**
Edla eyed the warrior stone. "You believe in these fairy tales?"
"Says the woman who curs at wolves." Gilgamesh slapped the warrior stone. Golden light engulfed him. **[Warrior Stone Activated. Combat Skill Progression +20%]**
Edla hesitated, then touched the same stone. It brightened again.
"Copycat," Gilgamesh muttered.
"It's practical," she said, but her shoulders relaxed slightly.
As they walked, Edla's past spilled out in clipped sentences. Born in Hammerfell to a Nord mercenary father. Trained with swords before she could walk. Family land in the Reach stolen by Forsworn.
"I'll cut out their hearts and reclaim what's mine," she said, as casually as discussing the weather.
"Charming hobby," Gilgamesh said. "I'm from… a place with talking rectangles and spicy chicken wings. Can't go back. Got isekai'd here. Don't ask."
Edla stared. "You're *mad*."
"Says the woman who thinks Fluffy is a valid weapon name."
**Riverwood**
The village was a postcard of rustic chaos—chickens scattering, blacksmiths hammering, and Ralof waving from the inn. His sister Gerdur greeted them with bread and suspicion.
"Imperial spies could be anywhere," she warned. "You must warn Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun!"
Edla nodded. "We'll leave at dawn."
Gilgamesh raised a finger. "*After* I do something first."
"What?"
"*Mysterious protagonist things.*"
He dumped looted gold on the Sleeping Giant Inn's counter, rented the forge, and unlocked **[Smithing Level 1: Can craft iron daggers… poorly]**. Alvor, the local blacksmith, watched in horror as Gilgamesh "accidentally" melted a wagon wheel.
At the trader, he bought sweetrolls, a lute ("for bardic intimidation"), and a leather helm Lyssia immediately drew whiskers on.
Returning, he found Edla sharpening Fluffy while Lyssia braided her hair into a lopsided crown.
"You look… festive," Gilgamesh said.
"The child is a menace," Edla growled, but didn't stop her.
The Sleeping Giant Inn's ale-stained tables groaned under the weight of Gilgamesh's loot: gemstones, rusted daggers, and a suspiciously sticky sweetroll. Lysia poked at a soul gem, her ash-streaked face lit with curiosity. "Is this a magic egg?"
**Lucan Valerius**, Riverwood's perpetually frazzled trader, burst in, eyes wild. "My Golden Claw! It's been stolen by bandits in Bleak Falls Barrow!
**[Quest Updated: Golden Claw – Retrieve the artifact from Bleak Falls Barrow.]**
Gilgamesh pocketed the trader's advance payment. "Don't worry. I'll return it… probably."
"*Probably?!*"
"I'm morally flexible. Now, about a discount on those lockpicks…"
Edla dragged him outside by his collar. "Focus. Whiterun first. Dragons before trinkets."
"Says the woman who licks butter knives clean."
**Road to Whiterun**
The plains of Whiterun stretched golden under the sun, but peace died as a guttural roar shook the earth. Ahead, a mammoth-sized giant swung its club at three warriors—the Companions, their wolf-crested armor gleaming.
"Stay with Edla," Gilgamesh ordered Lysia, tossing her a sweetroll. "If I die, eat this and pretend you never knew me."
Edla rolled her eyes. "If you die, I'm looting your boots."
The giant's club cratered the ground as Gilgamesh dove, sword flashing. **[One-Handed Skill: 7 → 8]**
A Companion—a red-haired huntress with a bow—nocked an arrow. "Distract it, stranger!"
"*Distract it?* I'm not its ex-wife!" Gilgamesh yelled, barely dodging a swing that launched a sheep into orbit.
The huntress's arrow pierced the giant's eye. It bellowed, swatting her aside. Gilgamesh leapt onto its leg, stabbing upward. "Hey, ugly! Ever heard of *pedicures*?!"
The giant staggered, and the third Companion—a hulking man with a warhammer—slammed its kneecap. **[Critical Hit!]** Bone cracked, and the colossus crashed down. Gilgamesh drove his blade into its throat.
**[Giant Slain! XP Earned. Loot: Giant's Toe (Gross).]**
The red-haired huntress limped over. "Aela the Huntress. You fight well… for a jester."
"Gilgamesh. You shoot well… for a backup dancer."
Aela's smirk was all teeth. "Come to Jorrvaskr in Whiterun. We'll test that mouth of yours."
The Companions escorted them to Whiterun's towering gates, where a guard barred their path. "City's closed. Dragons about."
Edla stepped forward, silver eyes sharp as her dagger. "Riverwood burns, and your Jarl cowers? Let. Us. In."
The guard faltered. "I-I'll lose my post!"
"You'll lose your teeth if you don't move," Gilgamesh added cheerfully.
Lysia piped up, clutching her sweetroll. "The dragon's *scary*! It has… fire breath and… and *sparkly* scales!"
The guard sighed, waving them through. "Fine. But if the Jarl skins me alive, I'm haunting you."
Whiterun sprawled like a drunken poet's dream. The Gildergreen's skeletal branches clawed at the sky, its once-majestic form now a scarred sentinel. The market buzzed with argonian traders haggling over spices, while a bard's lute dueled with the clang of the Skyforge's hammer.
"Look! A talking cat!" Lysia pointed at a khajiit caravan.
"That's just Ri'saad," Gilgamesh said. "He sells skooma and life regrets."
Edla grimaced at the smell of mead and manure. "This place reeks of *Nord*."
They climbed the stairs to Dragonsreach, the palace's wooden spires piercing the clouds. Inside, Jarl Balgruuf sat throne-side, his brow furrowed as his steward, Proventus, droned about taxes.
"Riverwood calls for aid!" Gilgamesh announced, bowing with a flourish. "Also, there's a dragon. You're welcome."
The Jarl's son, Nelkir, snickered. "Father, the *peasant* has a pet child."
"And you have the charisma of a wet skeever," Gilgamesh shot back.
"Jarl Balgruuf *His gaze lingered on Lysia, who hid behind Gilgamesh, clutching his tunic. "A child travels with you to speak of dragons?"
"She's my emotional support arsonist," Gilgamesh said. "Also, she's seen the dragon. *And* she's great at fetch quests."
Edla elbowed him. "What he means, *my lord*"—she shot Gilgamesh a death-glare—"is that Riverwood is in danger. The dragon burned Helgen. It'll strike again."
Balgruuf leaned forward. "And you expect me to mobilize my guards on the word of a… *colorful* stranger and a child?"
Before Gilgamesh could retort, a reedy voice called from the shadows. "Ah, but dragons *are* real, my Jarl! The signs are all here!"
Farengar Secret-Fire, the court wizard, swept into the hall, robes billowing like a paranoid bat. His spectacles perched precariously on his nose, and he clutched a tome titled *Dragons: Oh Gods, Why*.
**[NPC Identified: Farengar Secret-Fire. Occupation: Court Wizard. Obsession: Dragons. Personal Hygiene: Questionable.]**
"You!" Farengar pointed at Edla, ignoring Lysia's squeak of fear. "You've seen the dragon, yes? Its *Thu'um*—the power of its Voice! I must know more!"
Edla's hand twitched toward her dagger. "I know nothing of 'Thu'ums.' I just kill things."
Farengar scoffed. "A brute. Typical. But no matter—I've discovered a way to track the dragons. A stone tablet in Bleak Falls Barrow, the *Dragonstone*! It holds maps of ancient dragon burial sites. Retrieve it, and we might predict the beast's next attack!"
**[Quest Updated: Bleak Falls Barrow – Retrieve the Dragonstone for Farengar.]**
Gilgamesh raised a hand. "Hold on. Let me get this straight. You want us to loot a creepy tomb, fight undead monstrosities, and fetch your nerdy rock… for free?"
Farengar adjusted his glasses. "For the *safety of Skyrim*, yes."
Edla crossed her arms. "And if we refuse?"
Proventus sneered. "Then rot in the dungeons."
"We'll go," Gilgamesh said, eyeing the steward. "But if I die, I'm haunting *you*. I'll whisper *tax evasion* in your sleep."