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S’kir’ril darted down the stairs and made a beeline for Arcadia’s Cauldron. He made a point of stopping here any time he hadn’t been in Whiterun for awhile; it was a good place to stock up on alchemy ingredients, and he knew Arcadia was grateful to have someone else in town with an interest in alchemy.
As he approached the door, a fellow Stormcloak soldier stepped up beside him, clearly intending to talk. S’kir’ril didn’t usually mind these sorts of impromptu conversations—he could certainly relate to being on duty in a boring job, and wanting to speak with someone who clearly had a number of interesting tales to share—but at this present moment he just wanted to get in to the potions shop and get on with his business; he had need to speak with Aela, and the sooner he finished his errands, the sooner he could meet with her.
The guard followed him inside.
S’kir’ril turned around and gave him a Look, causing the guard’s mouth to snap shut, swallowing whatever comment he had been about to make.
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, and then Arcadia spoke from her post by the counter. “Did you need something, Guard?”
The guard cleared his throat. “Err, I was just-…” he paused, thinking better of it, and straightened his shoulders, drawing himself up in an obvious attempt to save his dignity. “I was just…checking on your shop, making sure there was no trouble. You’re- not? Experiencing any trouble?”
Arcadia rolled her eyes. “No. Everything’s fine.”
”Good! That’s good, well. I guess I’ll just…look around a bit just in case, make sure there’s no thieves lurking in the corners.”
He walked through the shop, making his way towards the door to the room at the side which led to the back entrance.
S’kir’ril watched him go, amused.
Arcadia snorted. “Lad just doesn’t want his friends to see him embarrass himself.”
”Mhm.”
”So, what have you got for me today?”
S’kir’ril turned to her with his most charming smile. “Weapons and armor!”
”Again? You rarely sell me anything else!”
”Well now, I can’t help it if there’s a much greater chance of coming across a decent piece of armor rather than a rare alchemy ingredient when I’m out adventuring, can I? And besides, I need my ingredients for my own potions.”
She sighed. “That’s the curse of trading with a fellow alchemist, I suppose. We both want the same things.” A twinkle of humor entered her eyes. “I suppose it gives me something to offer to poor lost soldiers who enter my shop when they’ve no interest in my potions, at the least.”
S’kir’ril grinned. “Indeed it does, and I’ll even give you the stories to go with them! Now,” he pulled out an ancient Nord war axe with an anti-daedric enchantment, “How much for this?”