The road from Riverwood to Whiterun was a winding slog of mud, wolves, and the kind of scenery that made Gilgamesh miss Earth's greatest invention: *asphalt*. Beside him, Edla marched like a Nord carved from ice, her red braid whipping in the wind like a battle banner. Gilgamesh, meanwhile, was busy negotiating with his left boot, which had apparently developed a personal vendetta against his toes.
"You realize," he said, kicking a pebble into the White River, "this whole 'heroic journey' thing would be less miserable if your people invented *wheeled luggage*."
Edla didn't slow her pace. "You'd whine less if you stopped looting every cheese wheel we find. You smell like a mammoth's backside."
"Says the woman wearing a dead sabre cat as a hat."
A snort escaped her. "It's stylish. And warm. Two things you'll never be."
By the time Whiterun's gates loomed ahead, Gilgamesh's pack felt like it was stuffed with bricks (thanks to the Dragonstone) and his patience had thinned to a thread. A notification blinked in his vision: **[Fatigue: 85% – Suggestion: Stop whining.]**
"Finally," he groaned. "Civilization. Which, here, means *mead* and *not freezing to death*."
Edla adjusted the strap of her axe. "First, the Jarl. Then, the wizard. *Then* you can drown in a vat of Honningbrew."
"You're my favorite killjoy."
By the time Whiterun's gates loomed ahead,
with high-pitched squeal. Lysia, the eight-year-old disaster they'd adopted-slash-kidnapped from Helgen, barreled into Gilgamesh's legs, nearly toppling him into a mud puddle. The girl had the energy of a skooma-addicted skeever and the survival instincts of a sweetroll.
"Gil! Edla! Can I keep the spider?" Lysia thrust a frostbite venom-dripping frostbite spider the size of a melon toward them. Its legs twitched.
Gilgamesh recoiled. "Why?!"
"She's cute! Look at her little fangs!"
"That's not a pet, that's a lawsuit," Gilgamesh said, swatting the spider into the river. Lysia pouted until Edla tossed her a dagger hilt wrapped in rabbit fur.
"Distract yourself with this," Edla said. "And if you stab Gilgamesh, *aim for the thighs*. They're soft."
"Traitor," Gilgamesh muttered, though he smirked when Lysia giggled.
"How'd you Know we are here, *Rabbit*?" he grumbled, using the nickname he'd coined after watching her loot a bandit camp with the speed of a hyperactive hare.
She stuck out her tongue. "A nice lady with horns Told me! She said I'm 'adorably feral.'"
Edla sighed. "That was a *Daedra worshipper*, Lysia."
"She gave me candy!" Lysia brandished a suspiciously glowing sweetroll
Gilgamesh plucked it from her hand and tossed it into a bush. "Rule one of apocalypse parenting: *Never accept candy from cultists*."
After bribing a guard to ignore Lysia's "pet" frostbite spider
they dropped her at the Temple of Kynareth. Priestess Danica looked like she'd aged a decade just *seeing* the girl.
"She tried to baptize a skeever in the holy font," Danica whispered, traumatized.
"Rabbit's just… enthusiastic," Gilgamesh said, dodging a thrown prayer candle.
Edla knelt, handing Lysia a dagger wrapped in linen. "Practice *carving wood*, not flesh. And don't set anything on fire."
"But Uncle Gil said fire is 'nature's glitter'!"
She's… lively," Danica said weakly.
"Lively's one word for it," Gilgamesh said, tossing the girl a stolen sweetroll. "Don't burn the place down. Or do. I'm not your dad."
Edla rolled her eyes. "*Practice your letters.* And no summoning Daedra."
"But Uncle Gil said Daedra are just 'spicy friends'!"
Gilgamesh shot Edla a grin. "She's learning."
after that thay headed to dragonsrech
Dragonsreach's grandeur was lost on Gilgamesh, who was too busy side-eyeing the Jarl's throne like it was a tax auditor. Balgruuf greeted them with the gravitas of a man who'd never had to scrape frostbite venom off his boots.
"You've done Whiterun a service," the Jarl intoned, as Farengar, the court wizard, practically drooled over the Dragonstone.
"Yes, yes! These markings—they could predict dragon movements!" Farengar said, oblivious to Gilgamesh using his robe to wipe off a suspicious green stain.
"So it's a rock calendar," Gilgamesh said. "Do we get a prize? Gold? A lifetime supply of firewood? *A thank-you note?*"
Balgruuf ignored him. "There's another matter. A dragon attacked the Western Watchtower. I need you to—"
"Let me stop you there," " Gilgamesh interrupted. "We're retired. *Forever*. Edla's starting a meadery. I'm opening a brothel."
"A *what*?" Edla hissed.
"Fine, a *bookstore*. Happy? We'll sell… *adventure manuals*. With pictures."
Edla stomped on his foot. "*We'll go.*"
The Jarl ignored Gilgamesh's groan. "Good.
Later, at the Bannered Mare, Gilgamesh slumped into a chair, nursing a tankard of mead that tasted like regret. "Why'd you agree to the dragon hunt? You *hate* nobles."
Edla peeled off her gauntlets, her red hair glowing in the firelight. "Because dragons mean answers. About Helgen.
Gilgamesh's system pinged. **[Quest Accepted: Investigate the Western Watchtower]**. He grimaced. "You're using me for my charm, aren't you?"
"Your charm died with the Draugr."" She flagged the bartender. "But you're decent with a bow. When you're not staring at Hulda's… *assets*."
"I was *reading the menu*!"
"The menu's on the wall. Her cleavage isn't."
Hey, Edla. Serious question."
She didn't look up"If it's about Nords and sheep jokes, I'll stab you."
"Where's the *bathroom*?"
Edla paused. "...What?"
"The *bathroom*. Toilet. Latrine. Hole-in-the-ground you people use to drop yesterday's sweetrolls. I haven't seen one since Helgen."
Edla stared at him like he'd asked how to summon Molag Bal. "You… go outside."
"*Outside*? You mean where the *bears* are?!"
"Or a chamber pot. Empty it in the gutter."
Gilgamesh gagged. "That's *medieval*. And not in the fun 'knights and festivals' way. In the 'plague and dysentery' way."
Edla smirked. "You're welcome to hold it until we fight the dragon."
"I'll explode! Do you want me to explode? *Because this is how you get explosions.*"
She shrugged. "The river's free."
"The river's full of slaughterfish! I'm not getting my ass nibbled while I—"
"Finish that sentence," Edla said, "and I'll feed you to the dragon myself."
Later, after Gilgamesh "braved the wilderness" (and sprinted back inside, swearing a skeever had winked at him), they haggled over mead and bad life choices
At dawn, they saddled up, Lysia waving wildly from the temple steps. "Bring me a dragon tooth!"
"Rabbit, we're not your personal shoppers!" Gilgamesh yelled back.
Edla nudged her horse forward. "Stay close. And try not to scream like in Bleak Falls Barrow."
"That Chaurus *licked me*!"
A roar split the sky. **[ALERT: Dragon Detected. Suggestion: Write Will Now.]**
Gilgamesh nocked an arrow, grinning. "You know, Rabbit's gonna be pissed if we die."
Edla hefted her axe. "Then *don't die*." .